A bitter divorce, a huge hole left in the wallet and free coffee for life. Was it really all worth it for one of the greatest song-writers of all-time?
I have been on the phone to O2 for the best part of two weeks now. Maybe it is my own poor research skills, or maybe it’s just because I’m bitter but I have failed to turn up the results I was looking for.
A few weeks ago Paul McCartney announced his return to the live scene with a small European tour, including only one date on his home turf. Baffled as to why, the self-proclaimed, ‘world’s biggest music venue’ did not book a string of performances I happily applied for my ticket willing to part with one hundred of my whole English pounds. As I mentioned I’m bitter so I’m quite sure you have already figured out where I will not be spending the evening of the 22nd of December.
Naturally the conspiracist nestled somewhere in my psyche grouped the ageing Beatle in with those ‘money grabbing sell-outs’ citing his previous involvement with a worldwide coffee chain. Why McCartney felt that Starbucks’ own label would be a step forward for music is nothing short of confusing, but it more than proved that everyone has a price, evidence of which can be seen on certain adult websites. Or so I’m told.
Quite perturbed I cried foul, and so here I sit talking away to a very nice, yet slightly defensive representative of the offending venue. I am enquiring as to the size of the ticket allocation made available to O2 customers 48 hours before the event.
O2 have certainly launched themselves into the music venue business with concerted gusto. Having begun with the Wireless Festival, the two venues, Hyde Park and particularly Leeds, coupled new acts with big names in an altogether more personal atmosphere to other major summer events.
Now controlling the empire that was the Carling Academy brand they enforce the iconic Brixton location and beam with pride over the new jewel-in-the-crown site in Birmingham, amongst other sites across the country. I myself had the good fortune of frequenting the new Brummie Academy only a week or so after its inauguration and can vouch that little has been spared by way of coupling a good venue with a hint of living room.
The matter of fact is the O2 Arena really is just that special. There is no corporate obligation forced on an artist by the name hanging above the door just a sign-of-the-times, modernist theatre for which thousands of contended fans can bask in their harmonious weapon of choice.
My contact at the arena, who shall be called Laura simply for the fact I forgot to ask her name, assures me that it is a minimal allocation offered to preferred customers, covering a range of seating prices. Annoyed at not being able to blame my tariff I suggest that this allocation is enough to stop ordinary folks from being able to access tickets, and that by performing at the old Millennium Dome artists actively support the organisation rather than the right to perform. Laura laughs at me. I hang up realising that on this occasion the boat simply sailed without me.
So I apologise for anyone who was looking to read an in depth report into the Liverpudlian’s endeavours in frugality only to find a brief example of one companies forays into unfamiliar territory. One thing is for sure though, O2 are here, they are very much in charge and they aren’t going away for some time. It is certainly not a bad thing seeing so much funding going into promoting live music on a nationwide scale, even if for some it is an exclusive club with entry fee being a minimum twelve month contract. My service provider’s cheaper cinema tickets are certainly starting to look a little paltry by comparison.
“O2, see what you can do.” Thanks for nothing Sean Bean.
I like him