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Meltdown blues - The World in Winter

Mary Finnigan's experience of the financial crisis in the framework of the music festival The World in Winter in Bristol, UK.

See also our online space dedicated to the financial crisis.

Meltdown blues

by Mary Finnigan

I was stretched out on a lounger, coated in factor 25, on the roof terrace of my friend Helen's house deep inside the medina of the ancient city of Fez. I knew I had come to the end of my time as a PR person for the Fes Festival of World Sacred Music – and I knew I had to put what I had learned during five years in this role to good use.

Thoughts drifted into focus -- and out again. I dozed off – and then woke up to a Eureka moment: why not start a new world music festival in Bristol -- my home city? A festival showcasing the performances I had grown to love with an intense passion during my time with Fez. Music that comes into being from the heart and the soul of communities around the world – inspired by their romance, their sorrow, their joy and their spirit.

Perfect performances of music familiar to the European ear delivered by master musicians is part of the Fez experience, but the way my appreciation acquired fresh breadth and depth was in making the effort to accept the challenge of unfamiliar tonalities. This prompted a paradigm shift, which opened up a whole new panorama of musical delights.

I realised that it was entirely possible that music lovers in and around Bristol would be open to the same experience – and was suddenly and unexpectedly consumed with a burning desire to share my enthusiasm for some of the recondite ensembles I heard for the first time sitting beneath the branches of a giant Barbary oak in the gardens of the Batha Museum in Fez.

Said Hafid for example, the great singer from Egypt who brings tears to the eyes of his audiences, the Iranian diva Parissa who left Bono from U2 struggling to find words to express his appreciation and the Aissawa Sufi brotherhood with their blaring horns and hypnotic drumming, who had us dancing until the anxieties of daily life dissolved into ecstasy.

There are more – many more. Julien Wiess the Swiss kanoun maestro and his Al Kindi ensemble, the sublime Mohammed Reza Shajarian and Dimi Mint Abba, the wild woman from Mauritania. The prospect of giving up my annual pilgrimage to Fez was painful, but after five years it was time to bring it all back home.

This was how The World in Winter was born in the summer of 2007. Returning to England, I checked out the idea with people like Simon Broughton editor of the world music magazine Songlines, Andy Morgan who lives in Bristol and manages the magnificent Saharan rockers Tinariwen, Lucy Duran the grande dame of ethnomusicology, Suzanne Rolt, Director of the St George's concert venue and the mercurial Vic Ecclestone from Bristol City Council. The response was overwhelmingly positive – in particular because it would be a February festival that would not compete with everything that happens during the summer months and also because February is the dreariest time of the year in Britain, when we need some excitement to cheer us up.

The initial encouragement I received from these people and others developed into a tsunami of support. We held a series of meetings and just before one of them, it turned out that WOMAD had sacked half its production team and several experienced festival organisers were out of a job. They came to the meeting. The sound engineer from the Fes Festival, Chris Ekers, agreed to be Technical Director and my friend Susanna, who used to be a feature film production accountant, undertook to work on the finances. Siobhan Kierans who has been running a summer school called The Tribe of Doris for 17 years became my co-director.

The DAB digital radio station Passion for the Planet signed up as a media partner. When David Whitelock, who was Festivals and Events Manager at Bristol City Council, indicated that council funding would be available, it seemed like we were poised for lift off.

Our plan was ambitious and to some extent modelled on Glasgow's long running winter festival, Celtic Connections. We envisaged a 10-day spread, with solo artists and small ensembles at the 500-seater, acoustically brilliant St George's, big-name performances at the much larger Colston Hall, together with events featuring local artists from Bristol's thriving music scene and ethnic communities, a festival club, master classes, a waterfront torchlight parade and a dance party.

We registered The World in Winter as a Community Interest Company and opened a business bank account. We applied for funding to take our star performers into some of the city's comprehensive schools and I started to look for commercial sponsorship, media partners and individual donations.

The first hint of trouble came in the autumn of 2007, when rumours about the effects of toxic debt started to filter across the Atlantic and there were rumblings of discontent in the housing market. At this time were riding our wave of optimism and none of us involved in launching The World in Winter paid more than casual attention to mortgage problems in America. I was cheered on by the Sponsorship Director of Manchester's bi-annual New Music Festival, who told me that his city council was supporting it to the tune of £6 million.
“Bristol will understand that attracting visitors in February, when the restaurants and hotels are at their lowest ebb, makes sound commercial sense”, he assured me, “Manchester makes a profit on the deal”.

It took until the autumn of 2008 for the tide to turn. Shortly after the Northern Rock debacle, David Whitelock emailed to say that all arts funding had been frozen and the best we could hope for was a very small amount of money for the festival. This was a shock, but I should have seen it coming.

By this time the extent of the banking crisis in America was becoming obvious with the collapse of Lehman Brothers and government bailouts for a raft of other financial institutions.

I called a crisis meeting and we decided to downsize our plans and go for a “soft” launch. I circulated a revised proposal to all interested parties and to my relief Suzanne Rolt from St George's offered us four days including the Valentine weekend in 2010.

Another friend experienced in fund raising suggested I send out an appeal letter to everyone I know – asking for modest amounts in return for tickets to the opening night. “I know some wealthy people”, I thought, “this will probably keep us going.”

Another illusion was shattered as the days passed, following the appeal mailout. People I hoped would donate £100s wrote back with cheques for £30 – apologising because they were extremely worried by the economic doom forecasts and the steady decline in the value of their investments. One friend whose late husband was a multi millionaire refused to give anything at all.
Her inheritance included a substantial holding in one of the British banks that was close to meltdown.

The appeal raised £1,000 – barely enough to commission a logo and set up a web site – but I went ahead and made both happen, thanks to IT wizard number 2 son and graphic designer Steve Byram who was willing to be paid in instalments.

Towards the end of 2008 it still seemed likely that we could raise enough money to launch the World in Winter on a reduced scale in February 2010.

Then media pundits started to utter dire warnings about the British economy being among the worst hit by recessionary forces that were sweeping across the world. As January 2009 approached, we woke up each morning to a litany of economic misery on the radio -- jobs being lost in all sectors, house re-possessions rocketing, the credit crunch destroying long established businesses on a daily basis.

I try to stay optimistic, but accept that we may have to postpone the launch for a year or two. Commercial sponsorship is hard to obtain at the best of times – now its seems like it is as rare as hens teeth. “Almost unobtainable” is the message from professional fund raisers. I am still exploring all possible funding avenues, but time is running out. On the up side, the people connected with The World in Winter remain supportive and there's an awareness that in periods of economic hardship we need to be entertained. At a more reflective level, the festival would celebrate values that are reasserting themselves as we retreat from consumerist priorities -- well-being rather than wealth for example, companionship and community spirit.

If I had been able to read the financial runes would I have embarked on this adventure? Almost certainly not, but by the time the full extent of the meltdown became clear it was too late to reverse the momentum. And I keep telling myself there's not one single good reason why a bunch of irresponsible bankers should stop me from realising my dream.

- Mary Finnigan

 

Getagged als:

bristol, festival, financial crisis, music, story, uk

 

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