KNOCK MIDEM DEAD!

THE BAR of the swanky Majestic Hotel is packed with music industry executives. Some of them are socialising, engaging in an annual bonding exercise that makes it easier to screw one another long-distance for the rest of the year. Others are actually doing deals, figures bouncing back and forth across the table, advances against percentages, as margins are being tweaked up and down and ’round the house.

Three wheeler dealers are at one table, batting dollars back and forth, arguing over currency rates and who’s going to get paid in what form of legal – and maybe even some kind of illegal – tender. This is a crucial moment on which tens of thousands of beautiful, reliable German Marks may depend. Maybe even hundreds of thousands.

But you can see that the man with the beard and the calculator in his hand has lost his concentration. He lets out a long low whistle and the others follow his gaze across the room before resting their eyes on the fantastic objects of his surprise. “Look at fucking that,” he says in clipped Germanic tones and the others shift uncomfortably in their seats. For there are two chocolate-coloured laydees, dressed like extras from a Robert Palmer video, perched atop the most precarious of high heels and exuding everything that is everywhere depicted as appealing to unbridled male lust.

“They import hookers from Paris every year to fulfil the demand at MIDEM,” somebody had said the previous day. Maybe he was right. The women certainly had an air of not quite being sure where they were, of hanging around. They wandered across the bar, turning heads as they went, and out into the foyer.

There they were quizzed by an elderly gent who looked as if he might have been hotel security.“We are singers,” they told him, “we want to meet producers. Can you help us to get badge to get into MIDEM?”

Another gent stepped forward to offer assistance. “You want to meet producers? The best place to start is right there in that hotel bar. I don’t think you’ll have much problem getting people to talk to you. Have you got any tapes?”

One of the women is clutching the MIDEM catalogue in her hands by now, a weighty tome with hundreds of contact names and numbers. “No, we have no tapes,” she says. “That’s why we want to meet producers.” There’s an odd air of panic detectable. The singers make their excuses and bolt for an alcove where they will find a dozen phones to make calls out on, but nothing else.

Later that evening the Carlton Hotel foyer is busy with industry movers and shakers meeting and greeting. It’s hard to get through at times without a half a dozen handshakes. A big black dude goes striding so purposefully towards the elevator, however, that no one is likely to get a hold of his large mitt to shake, not a chance. Just behind him trail the headspinners – the same two laydees who had almost caused the Majestic to tilt to starboard earlier in the day. The threesome are heading for his room.

Maybe he’s a producer. Maybe they are singers. Maybe not. Either way, it doesn’t really matter. This is MIDEM after all. Everybody’s got something to sell . . .

This MIDEM is an important one for Ireland, and for the Irish

music industry. That fact is reflected in the highest ever turn-out of delegates, sharing a sense of excitement – of being on the verge of something important – that’s palpable.

And it’s copperfastened by the decision of the Minister for Arts, Culture and the Gaeltacht, Michael D. Higgins, to travel to Cannes to officiate at the opening of the Irish stand, meet and mingle with the assembled industry types and put the best face and foot forward for Irish music at its key world marketplace. Because that’s what MIDEM is – a huge market place, at which the seeds of billions of dollars worth of business are sown, thousands of deals are done and hundreds of cheques change hands.

People come here from literally all over the world. Some of them are very powerful indeed, engaged in the delicate task of plotting the timescale for the introduction of new technologies like DCC, CDI and the satellite diffusion of music onto the global market – in the way, of course, which will see the maximum benefit to their own companies, and their own personal bank balances.

Others are on the fringes, enthusiasts who are at the game part-time but believe that they’ve got a fix on something that deserves a bigger audience.

The Irish contingent reflects the same kind of spread. Which is interesting because there was a time when the entire Irish music industry existed as a fringe element. Well, this year there’s an Irish showcase featuring Stiff Little Fingers, Energy Orchard, The Stunning, Frances Black, The Afternoons and Sean (Dr. to you) Millar. The two videos made by Frontier Films about The Velvet Underground have been nominated for special MIDEM TV, film and video awards. The graphics for the show at which the award winners will be announced have been done by Steve Averill, of Works Associates in Dublin. And Katell Keineg is on the bill at the event, showcasing material from her new album.

Elsewhere Paul McGuinness, manager of U2, is participating in a panel on touring, Dermot Hanrahan of FM104 is doing one on radio and the Minister is being invited as Guest of Honour to a range of bashes being thrown by MIDEM, by Billboard magazine and by the local diplomatic representatives. At MIDEM ’94, the Irish are in the thick of it.

The event opens however with a dinner hosted by the Irish Music Industry, to which the Minister has been invited. It takes place in a funky little restaurant in the beautiful village of Mougins, overlooking Cannes. Here be gathered people from every side, from every shade, from every nook and cranny of the real IMI! That’s Johnny Lappin, a man who looks the same as he did back then when Hot Press was founded. In fact he probably has more hair now. On the other side of the room is Paul McGuinness who’s got less hair than in ’77 but far, far more clout. Tonight he’s in a position to announce the finalisation of a deal with Atlantic Records which will see six Irish records – including a remix of Mise Éire – launched on the US market.

“Clannad have sold 600,000 records here this year,” he explains, “and so it wasn’t hard to convince Atlantic that there was an audience for Irish music. It isn’t a genre. What these records have in common is, I suppose, their Irishness.”

He shrugs. It speaks for itself. The sceptics can eat shit. The Irish music industry is happening.

On my left is Barbara Galavan, the newly appointed MD of Celtic Heartbeat – almost certainly the first woman in that position in a significant Irish record company. The Irish music industry is changing.

Here also is Bill Whelan, composer of The Seville Suite, roused from his bed at 6am this morning with the news of what was happening in Cannes. As a composer and the moving heart behind Irish Film Orchestras, Whelan has made a major contribution to the relative health and prosperity of the Irish music industry. His Seville Suite is one of the records which Celtic Heartbeat will be releasing.

It would be folly to attempt to mention everyone but a representative selection of names should be enough to underline the sense of solidarity that prevails on the night. On the rock front Lir handler David Reilly is present – a small export industry in himself, trading in legal services. So is Robert Stephenson, manager of Dr Miillar and Speranza. Brian Molloy is here from Westland Studios, Mick Clerkin representing Ritz Records and Daniel O’Donnell, Hugh Duffy and Victor Finn from IMRO and the MCPS, John Cooke from Tara Records . . .

In the background are Dermot Hanrahan, Dave Kelly and Scott Williams from FM104 and Colm O’Conaill from 96FM, on hand to hear the extent to which the winds of change are blowing. And upfront there’s Derry O’Brien of An Bord Tráchtala and Brendan Graham, the Chairman of IMRO – the two bodies who have co-ordinated tonight’s activities.

Michael D. makes a speech which is wide ranging but still sharply focussed. There will be a series of tax measures to stimulate activity – to bring international business into Ireland, to make investment in Irish music itself more attractive and to assist those who are in the business of promoting and exporting Irish music.

The areas of copyright control and royalty collection are potentially of crucial importance. New legislation will be required to reflect the changes which are taking place in the technology with which intellectual properties are being stored, transmitted and sold. There are opportunities here for Ireland to take the lead in protecting the rights of the creators – in the context of music, the composers, songwriters, performers, arrangers and producers.

Not only this but the technology itself offers real challenges and new opportunities for the creative community – the government are aware of this and will be aiming to create the educational and training facilities in Ireland to ensure that our artists will be at the cutting edge of developments.

An independent copyright collection agency is essential – if there is unnecessary resistance from the PRS, then the Government will put the legislation in place to ensure that the integrity, the independence and the rights of Irish composers and writers are fully protected.

The support of Irish radio is also essential. Again if this is not forthcoming the Government will support those in charge of regulating the activities of broadcasters in whatever way is necessary to ensure that Irish music is given the support that it needs . . .

Michael D. is on song. It’s a powerful speech which reflects a familiarity with and understanding of the issues that mightily impress a roomful of listeners, many of whom came here as very neutral observers.

The speech is punctuated with applause and at the end there’s a prolonged standing ovation, delivered by an audience reflecting nearly the entire spectrum of political opinion. You could say it’s a triumph for Michael D. but that is to miss the point.

What we’re talking about here potentially is a triumph for Irish music.

It’s certainly a triumph for Derry O’Brien, the man who deals

with the music industry at Bord Tráchtála. For years O’Brien has been battling for recognition for music as an industry, and getting scant response from those in control of the purse strings. But anyone who’s seen him in action knows that he’s a great ambassador, and a great hustler (I don’t think he’d turn up his nose at the word) for Irish music in all its shapes, sizes and manifestations. And even if you haven’t seen him in action, total strangers at MIDEM will come up and tell you how good he is, when they see you’re from Ireland.

Now he has a Minister in town, who knows the business and understands its potential well enough to travel to Cannes to support the cause. It’s a set of circumstances that lends a new sense of confidence and urgency to the Irish mission.

Oliver Sweeney from Cross Border Media, Steve Murrin from Phoenix Distribution, Paul O’Reilly from Dolphin Records, Keith Williams from the Homeboy Agency, John Cooke from Tara – they’re all buzzing, doing deals, and expanding the Irish sphere of influence in the process. There is a real hunger for Irish music, in the strangest of places. Someone does a direct sale into Madagascar. Someone else licenses an entire catalogue into Taiwan and Sweeney, to take one example, has the companies queueing up to get a shot at the next 4 Men And A Dog album. Paul O’Reilly gets A Woman’s Heart away in Hungary. And so it goes.

“Some people will look back on this as a breakthrough year for Irish music,” Michael O’Shea from Velo Records reflects. “There’s an enormous level of interest and you can really make contacts and do deals. The thing operates at two levels. There’s the guys who are all energy, working hard, hustling deals – that’s on this level, in the exhibition area. Then there’s the smoother types, the guys with money, the successful guys and they’re mixing in the hotels, meeting and greeting and doing deals at a higher level. They’re not in such a hurry because the amounts of money are much bigger. But they’re here too, so MIDEM has enormous potential. And I think we’re beginning to tap it.”

One major beneficiary of MIDEM this year certainly will be Sean Millar. His short solo showcase set at the Martinet blows ’em away. A guy from a certain English record company has recently split up with his wife. He squirms through every second of ‘You’re Not Paranoid, You’re Right’, a devastatingly malicious attack on everything that’s sacred in the vows of matrimony. It is uncompromising, pointed and brutally funny – Randy Newman with an ice pick. It’s only one of a collection of brilliant, subversive songs that lay bare the vilest of human emotions and celebrate them. Millar gets a rousing reception not just from the Minister, his special adviser Colm O’Briain and Jim Maguire of the Paris office of Bord Tráchtála, but from the entire audience who are whooping, hollering, creasing themselves and calling for more.

This they get. The MIDEM director of showcases is so taken with Millar’s bravura performance that he’s invited to do a further set on the main stage in the Martinez the following night. It’s another triumph, the crucial moment coming when a heckler in the audience – someone who’s in the throes of serious marital difficulties perhaps – shouts up from the back ‘What a load of bollocks’.

“Oh yeah,” Millar extemporises, “you’re great. You’re down there in the dark and I’m up here in the spotlight. You’re a brave man. You’ve probably got a hairy chest and a dick this fucking big . . . ” and he measures out about 24 inches between his hands . . . “You’re a real tough guy.” The audience applauds wildly, the heckler dies and Millar’s crossing is complete.

Frances Black will benefit too. She’s such a fine, fine, fine singer that only the deaf couldn’t hear it. Not only that, though. Her attitude is so genuinely right, so truly natural that her between-song comments and antics win her fans at every turn. Her performance is beautifully measured and it becomes increasingly obvious that here is a star in the making.

The word afterwards is good on both fronts. The enquiries are rolling in for Sean Millar. They still have to be tested, to be turned into the hard currency of offers and contracts but on the evidence of the impact he’s made, it’ll happen. And Frances has done herself a big favour too – I’d put money on it that her next album will go out in Europe, in Japan, in Australia. Doors are opening.

In fact the showcase has been good for everyone. The Afternoons will get gigs, tours and indie album releases. The Stunning turn in a powerful show, and their sights are set somewhat higher. And as for the Northern contingent, this is an exercise in consolidation: with Dougie Dudgeon at Castle Records already behind them, they’re engaged in the delicate process of winning cross-industry support, creating a buzz, getting journalists, promoters, radio stations and the whole hype machine on-side. They do themselves a power of good.

Which is true of the entire Irish industry on this expedition. Politically, in terms of business and in terms of morale, it’s an away victory of very significant proportions, and one that’ll be celebrated until next June at least. Then we might have other victories on our collective consciousness. We just might.

The show is over. The fat lady has bust her gut.

So too has the fat black man who’s leaning half way over the bar in the Martinez on the night after the real last night of MIDEM 1994.

This dude is hungry, however. He’s making a good fist of chatting the barman up – but not good enough. “Couldn’t you just give me some peanuts,” he asks reasonably enough. “Not unless you buy a drink. You must buy a drink,” the barman responds.

The black man turns to another solitary figure by the bar who smiles sympathetically. “Well it’s all over,” the black dude says, drumming on the counter. “I did some deals alright, but man they got me busted. Twenty-five francs for a glass of Coca Cola is outrageous. It’s fucking outrageous”.

He turns to the barman. “Why don’t you just charge me normal prices?” he pleads. The barman smiles in response. “This is normal prices,” he says.

“Twenty-five francs for a bottle of Coca Cola is outrageous,” he says again to his solitary chum. “All it would take would be for everyone to refuse to buy any more drink until they lowered the prices.”

At this stage however, it doesn’t seem like the most viable of propositions. MIDEM is over.

He drums on the counter again. “They got me busted, man. I’m broke.” He looks at his audience of one. “You know this is as bad as Las Vegas. In fact it’s worse. In Vegas they”ll give you a free drink. All you gotta do is look like a gambler.”

Trouble is that everyone at MIDEM looks like a gambler. Everyone’s got something to sell. Anyone wanna buy a used article? Exclusive rights available for every territory in the world – except Ireland. And maybe even they’re negotiable.

I’ll be at Stand 353 next year if you want to negotiate. In the meantime, call my agent. If I don’t find some work for the bastard soon, he’ll fire me.

MAKE THAT CONNECTION

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