This week is Manchester week, dear readers, as I’m just back from a long weekend’s ‘staycation’ Oop Norf, and I have thoughts.
A friend and I went up for a weekend bookended by two concerts at the new Co-Op Live Arena, a 1990s nostalgia-fest featuring Smashing Pumpkins, Weezer, and Liam Gallagher. Cards on the table, we both forgot that Weezer were even playing. The Pumpkins and Gallagher, on the other hand? Proper pilgrimages to our respective adolescences.
I last saw the Smashing Pumpkins play in 1996, so last weekend marked the first point in my life during which I knew what it felt like to be a Rolling Stones fan, seeing the same band play three decades apart. Liam Gallagher and Oasis were less of a factor in my youth, but were my friend’s teenage obsession, and if you’re ever going to see Liam Gallagher play, why not pick his hometown hero return for the full Madchester experience?
With concerts on Thursday and Sunday evenings, we were left with plenty of time in which to tourist, and so explored both Manchester and Liverpool, which is only an hour away by train. Both cities beguiled me — they were beautiful to look at and heaving with interesting things to do, great spots to eat and drink. But they also provided an interesting perspective on diverging attitudes to tourism.
I need to preface this by saying that everything I’m about to write is based on my impressions as a day-tripper (see what I did there?) — since getting back I’ve done actual research and my gut instincts were factually incorrect, but I don’t think that matters because if you’re selling experiences tourists aren’t seeing then you’re doing it wrong anyway. So what am I ranting about? Read on…
You don’t need to know anything about music to know that Liverpool is inextricably linked with The Beatles. But even if you somehow turned up completely unaware of the Fab Four, you couldn’t leave the city ignorant. Whether or not you book onto a Magical Mystery Tour, you can’t pass a tacky souvenir stand without spotting a Yellow Submarine fridge magnet, you’ve got murals and statues and blue plaques aplenty; Liverpool’s tourist board making damn sure that every visitor to the city is made aware of the musical history whether or not they give two hoots about the Cavern Club.
It just so happened that our day out in Liverpool coincided with the first of Taylor Swift’s several gigs in the city. While Tay-Tay is no Scouser, the city went as mad for Swift as they do for The Beatles, a giant billboard outside Lime Street station welcoming the Swifties to town. As you wandered the city there were endless Instagrammable Taylor props for photos, every bar and restaurant was playing her music, there were themed menus and cocktails… The whole city was in on the Tay-Tay tour excitement, and the money was rolling in with it.
Manchester is a city famous for its music. You’ve got Oasis, obviously, and the massive scene around the Hacienda in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Manchester is the city that gave the world Joy Division, New Order, The Smiths, Happy Mondays, Simply Red, The Stone Roses, The Bee Gees, even Take That. And that’s without going into acid house or rave.
But when we were doing our bimbling about the city, we didn’t really get the impression that Manchester was doing much (anything?) to capitalise on its history. Since getting back and googling Manchester music tours I’ve found that we could have paid to go on a variety of tours specialising in different aspects of music in the city, but from what I could tell they’re all private enterprises and not an opportunity seized on by the council, which feels like a real own goal.
As part of the teenage nostalgia experience, my friend and I spent the day before Liam’s gig scouting out some iconic Oasis spots in the outskirts of Manchester — there was the house in West Didsbury where Bonehead grew up, the living room of which was used on the cover of the Definitely Maybe album; there was Sifter’s Records, namechecked in ‘Shakermaker’; and there was the tiny corner house in Burnage where the Gallagher brothers were raised.
Trekking our way around the city’s outer edges we stopped off for food and drink along the way, spending money well outside the typical tourist areas. Given that that is exactly the sort of tourist behaviour local authorities are trying to encourage, the lack of any real Oasis signposting felt like a real missed opportunity from Manchester city council, and it was only a small sample of where (I think) they’re going wrong.
Yes, it could be argued that the council has no control over the extensive development inside the city that has led to the demolition of loads of once-iconic music venues. (I’d argue that it’s the council that approves developments, but I’m feeling generous so I’ll let them have that one.) But where they’re really falling short is in the public provision of information regarding the city’s massive impact on British music.
The council should have music lists uploaded to GoogleMaps so that visitors are prompted to download their own walking tours. (They should have paper maps too, but I know the local authorities are all strapped for cash.) There should be a lot more signage and blue plaques commemorating the people and places that helped make Manchester the vibrant cultural capital it remains to this day. They should encourage/commission more murals and public art, and signpost the bits they do have.
What little investment it would take to make music a centrepiece of the ‘visit Manchester’ campaign would pay itself back many times over in very little time. Whatever they are doing now is, to the average visitor, largely invisible.
Manchester City Council should put you on its payroll. Plus the city has some of the UK's best Chinese restaurants and supermarkets.