Live and Alive

Signpost in the cellar

Aikman’s, in many ways, often feels utterly decrepit, like it's falling apart at the seams. When I lowered myself into its dingy underbelly, I was transported back into the ‘80s with its charming lighting, lumpy and often broken furniture, foul smell, and walls and ceilings adorned with memorabilia from a St Andrews our parents could have attended. Your phone doesn’t work down there, providing a catalyst for human connection that is all too rare today. 

From 8-10pm on 9 October was the weekly Signpost event in Aikman’s Cellar. I showed up promptly at 8pm and was one of four people there. There was one guy playing guitar, seemingly warming up. He did play it quite well. This went on for about 45 minutes, and the bar downstairs was closed. Almost no one seemed to know that there was an event of any kind going on. I went into this mission solo, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. As it neared 9pm, I was preparing for an early exit, when, gradually, the room began to fill.  

Get ready for a series of cliches. The greatest avenue for human connection could very well be music. It is a universal language that can bring diverse crowds of people together for a shared experience. I believe live shows exist on a spectrum. At the low end is the live equivalent of elevator music. Elevator music should be kept low to drown out any potential awkwardness in still and quiet places. If played too loudly, it takes away from the experience. On the other end is the greatest live concert you can imagine, creating a euphoric, out-of-body experience that nothing natural can quite replicate. DJs exist in between these poles, but can never quite reach the highs that a live band can. Bands can reach unattainable highs, but the bad ones can be unendurable. DJs are safe, reliable, and dependable; they get an important job done. For a lot of people, that is enough, but not for Signpost.

By nature, live music is risky and important to get right. It is for those who wish to chase those unattainable highs. It is a culture that the bubble of St Andrews severely lacks.

Signpost’s Monday events, as I came to discover, are a place for collaboration and improvisation. As the room eventually flooded with people, the music started to fill the space. The songs were often messy as the artists had never played together, but they were coherent enough to recognise. One of the performers was Marco Gil Harris, who plays in The Macaronis. He played nearly the entire time alongside other musicians. They played instrumental covers of songs from Jimi Hendrix, America, Mumford & Sons, and jammed over random chord progressions. The room went back and forth between listening to the performances and talking amongst themselves, and the musicians seemed happy to step into the spotlight and return to the background periodically. Harris mentioned that some of the guys playing alongside him were first-years trying to break into the St Andrews music scene, and Signpost seems like the place to do it. 

The music, much like the cellar, was neither polished nor predictable. It was rough, improvised, and genuine; an antidote to the polished perfection that defines much of St Andrews. Signpost, in its own unassuming way, feels like the perfect incubator for new musical talent. It provides a chance to collaborate with people who have established themselves in bands and a way to meet people with an authentic interest in music.

Photo by Walt Scott