Affirmative action

Sartorial elegance may not be one of Snow Patrol’s more notable qualities, so onlookers would have taken little notice of the t-shirt Gary Lightbody wore while the band swept up at the recent Meteor Awards.

However, on an occasion that was supposed to celebrate the can-do spirit currently energising Irish music, its appearance could well have been the most significant of the night.
Because make no mistake: the ‘Oh Yeah’ slogan Lightbody was so keen to show off represented much more than just a glib designer logo.
For almost a year and a half now, the Snow Patrol singer has been working frantically, with Stuart Bailie, Davy Matchett and Marty Neill, on a project that promises to transform radically Belfast’s musical landscape.
All going well, as you read this, the first builders will be moving into a disused former whiskey warehouse in Belfast’s Cathedral Quarter. When they’re finished the Oh Yeah Music Centre will hopefully be waiting: providing a state-of-the-art multi-media facility, a massive rehearsal and performance space, a number of A-list studios and office space for would-be promoters, managers and designers.
“The Christmas before last, Peter Hain had invited Snow Patrol to meet him at Stormont,” reveals Matchett, a childhood friend of Lightbody and SP’s Jonny Quinn.
“One of those gatherings of the great and good – and I got an email from Gary basically saying that he didn’t just want to go there for the free drink, he wanted to see if there was anything practical that he could ask for.”
“We’d already all met up one afternoon and, over a few drinks had put the world to rights, as you do. But I think we had all agreed that Belfast needed some kind of hub, some kind of physical focus that would help young musicians in the city. Kind of like the Nerve Centre in Derry. So it grew out of that.”
Given the speed with which things have developed, it’s perhaps unsurprising to discover that the building intersects with one of Belfast’s few rock and roll ley-lines. A couple of hundred yards away sits the original site of The Harp Bar, which famously acted as an incubator for the city’s dynamic punk scene, while ‘Teenage Kicks’ was recorded in a studio just around the corner. The building itself also played host to the Outlet recording and distribution company for many years – hence the spookily synchronistic presence of the intact shell of a recording studio.
A (guided) stroll around the place’s cavernous four stories has so far convinced a host of the North’s most significant musical figures of Oh Yeah’s massive potential.
Tim Wheeler, Colin Murray, Duke Special, David Holmes and Mike Edgar are amongst many who have provided testimonials or promised fulsome support.
“It’s been mind-blowing,” says Bailie. “I think they’ve all just seen it as an idea that’s time has come.”
“After Iain Archer walked round it he told me it could give him a reason to come home,” says Matchett. “He’s lived in Glasgow and London since 1993, just because practically speaking he’s had to – that’s where the management is, that’s where the good studios and practice spaces are. Ideally, if this works out, the next generation of Iain Archers will not be forced away. They’ll have everything they need at home.”
Lightbody is keen to stress that the speed with which the project has progressed through official circles can be attributed to more than a few strategically signed Snow Patrol CDs.
“There are probably more signed ones out there than unsigned,” he laughs. “So if you’ve an unsigned copy hold onto it as one day if might be worth something. I guess ink-on-album-cover hasn’t hurt on a few occasions but for the most part people have been very excited about the idea from the get-go and only cared that the people behind the idea were passionate, determined and reliable.”
According to Bailie, though, there was no mistaking the impact that the UK’s biggest selling band had during the many discussions that took place with various funding bodies and government departments.
“Fifty-nine year old blokes in fading suits know who they are,” he says. “Davy, Marty and I would maybe have credibility amongst our peers, but when it comes to convincing accountants and funding bodies, no-one can argue with five million album sales. That’s a lot of money. And, on a financial level, if we could produce another band of that scale, but have them record the record in Belfast, it’ll benefit the entire economy.”
It’s usually a case of Oh No rather than Oh Yeah when word gets out of musicians supping with government ministers, but Lightbody insists it was a risk worth taking.
“Naysayers will chastise us for going to the likes of Peter Hain for money,” he says. “But this project will affect the whole community in Northern Ireland so why shouldn’t the government give to the alternative music scene for once. It gives enough to jazz and classical and when was the last time a jazz or classical musician became an ambassador for our country: James Galway? Indeed. It is our rock and electronic music that is being recognized and respected on a word scale. We have to nurture the next generation. The likes of Ash and ourselves had to move away from Belfast to have a chance. We want the next wave of Northern Irish bands to stay and to do that we have to give them good reasons to.”
“We need a million and a half for the first two years so we can fit the building out properly,” reveals Bailie. “We’re well on out way to getting that. But we’re not going be like so many sad things, constantly holding out the begging bowl. The ethos of the place is all about being self-sufficient. We don’t want to buy into the dependency culture thing.”
Even though word has only recently got out regarding the scheme, the Oh Yeah team have already been shocked by the level of response from the public.
“We’ve been getting phone-calls from parents in the country,” says Matchett. “Telling us they have kids who play drums but don’t know how to make the next move. We want to provide a space where they can come down, rap the door, and know they’ll be treated seriously and given a hand.
Bailie: “I always refer back to when I was a kid and Good Vibes was our Mecca. You’d walk in and there would be Feargal Sharkey folding ‘Teenage Kicks’ sleeves. It’s a different time, but I’d hope that spirit would inform the whole thing. I’d love it to emancipate loads of people, who’ll then take it on themselves while we sit back like benevolent monarchs.
“Dream on, Bailie,” says Neill. “It’ll be 15 hour days for the next three years.”
It’s a work-load none of the team is likely to resent. Even their in-house rock star is looking forward to getting his hands dirty.
“I want to get involved as much as possible,” says Lightbody. “I’ll have an office in the building and will assist in any way I can. Although as far as guitar lessons go I might come up much shorter than people might care to find out. I know the chords! I could teach the five year olds maybe.”b