“Just look around you, mate. It was just a couple of months ago we recorded the first, shaky podcast in my mum’s bedroom. Now, we’re press at a three day music festival headlined by perhaps the greatest post-rock band that’s ever existed.”
I looked around. Damian, my long-time friend and the co-host and producer of the newly formed Bristol Beats Club, was right. We had come a surprisingly long way since we met up in a pub and decided to launch a new website for a laugh. I took a long, satisfying swig of my cider, sat back in my chair and allowed myself a smile. I was going to enjoy this.
The Bristol Beats Club was and is a blog and podcast on the live music scene in Bristol. To date, we’ve interviewed the likes of Fenech-Soler, Half Moon Run and London Grammar. We get nigh-on constant emails requesting reviews, interviews, opinions and comments. Our content goes out to an audience of 20,000-strong listeners on BCFM. All because Daim didn’t really have much to do one day.
He came to see me in Bristol, depressed and jobless, following a sacking from his role as a stock replenishment assistant at Tesco. The sacking was entirely his fault, but he hadn’t really taken it well. After spending far too long withdrawn from the world with an open bottle of booze close by at all times, he’d decided he wanted to do something a bit more rewarding. I was up for a laugh. So we decided we’d become music journalists.
The day after our pub meet I returned from work to find Daim an entirely different man. He’d spent hours identifying the equipment we’d need to get started. He’d drawn up budgets – even though at that point I wasn’t sure the word was solidified in his vocabulary. He’d researched potential initial guests and he’d even sent out emails making enquiries. I never really thought our idea was going to materialise. But in that five minutes, I knew it would.
Two months down the line we were in a sun-filled field in Somerset, drinking cider and rubbing shoulders with some of the biggest names post-rock had to offer. I finished my cider then stood from my chair.
“Come on, mate,” I said to Daim, “Let’s go watch some live music.”