Five Strings, No Wins
- Anonymous
“Call in Sick” EP launch, attended by the author. The author chose to remain anonymous.
This piece should really start with an apology for the number of times it says ‘I’ or ‘me’. Growing up as part of the Drive Thru generation, it just comes naturally for some reason. It’s also cheesier than a Dawson’s Creek story arc, so if that isn’t your thing, maybe just skip to the last few sentences. I should add early on that I openly discuss mental health, so please be aware of that if the topic doesn’t make comfortable reading for you.
I’m going to try and explain why the Exchange, and all small independent venues are so important to me personally, but I’m confident that there are others out there that share similar experiences already. Perhaps more importantly, there are others out there that haven’t had similar experiences, and whose lives would change for the better if they did. For that to happen, the Exchange, and all similar venues need to survive.
Around 10 years ago, I left Bristol to move to another city for work. During my time in Bristol, I met my partner and my best friends, mostly through absolutely sensational shows that took place at the Croft and the Junction (both sadly lost now). I left pretty carefree.
Fast forward 7 mostly miserable years, and after a period of working 16-20 hour shifts, 7 days a week for 5 weeks, I had a breakdown. There is little need to go into the full history and specifics, but ultimately I didn’t see any reason to trudge on, and taking action on that had started to enter my mind.
Months later, a good friend of mine managed to eek out of me what I would spend the next two days doing if I could pick literally anything. My answer - be back in Bristol at a gig, or sitting on the sofa with my partner and being able to focus on a good book without my mind spewing fear and anxiety and ruining it. One of those is easier to organise than the other, and that’s what led me to coming back to Bristol for the Deadpunk All Dayer at the Exchange.
I wish I could say it wasn’t as predictable as having a ‘eureka’ moment, but the truth is, it was. Warren Mallia must have been two songs into his set when for the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt happy. I looked around the room at all of the other like minded people having fun, and thought to myself - this is what I want my life to go back to. This is the solution. You would think that after years of being miserable, the solution would have come to me sooner, but I guess it’s better late than never right? As soon as the set ended, I went outside and text my boss to apologise and let him know that when I came into work Monday morning, I would be handing my notice in, moving back to Bristol and putting the important things and people back in my life.
It’s impossible to know if it is the case, and perhaps dramatic to say that Warrens set saved my life, but let’s leave it as this: beforehand, I had hit rock bottom and couldn’t see a way out. A week later, I had discovered my old self and instead of losing sleep fretting over all of the negative things that might happen, I was losing sleep thinking ‘holy shit, imagine if the Don Ramos Players started playing again and played the Exchange with the Attika State!!’.
It’s so easy when things aren’t going well to analyse every single little thing and think about how long things have been bad, and how there is no hope of change. It’s even easier however to forget to take a moment to pause when things are going well, and realise how good things are. Fortunately for me, not long after settling back in Bristol, I had that positive moment of realisation. I’m sure at this stage, you have guessed it, but it happened at the Exchange. I went to the release show for an EP called Call in Sick. During the set, I picked up on the lyric “maybe we should spend our evening just reading books and drinking tea”. I caught my partners eye and without saying a word, knew that we had found our feet again. I realised in that room that a long and dark period of my life had ended. Watching live music in Bristol is my happy place, and I will fight tooth and nail never to lose it. For that, and many other reasons (remember when Lightyear played Pack of Dogs 3 times?!?), the Exchange will always mean so much to me. It’s also worth pointing out the name of the EP for anyone who is suffering from poor mental health as a result of work. I certainly wish that I did.
When we hear about small venues in trouble, the conversation is often based around successful musicians and bands that have started out in small venues. Using Idles, who at the time of writing this are taking the world by storm as an example. Be it playing at, or working at, the Exchange helped that happen. That is exciting, and can’t be ignored. What excites me more though isn’t who is on the stage, it’s the people attending. There are thousands, and if we start talking worldwide, millions of people who have become who they are today because of small venues. Some of them discovered beliefs and causes to fight for. Some of them found out that there are others out there to encourage and support them in standing up for what they think is right. Let’s also not forget the fun side of things…. Places like the Exchange are where you fall in love, or forge lifetime friendships.
TLDR? The Exchange is integral not only to the music scene, but to society as a whole. Please do anything you can to support them and get involved.
