Crowds prepare to enter the Hammersmith Palais for the last time. Photo: Jim Dyson/Getty
I write this, ears ringing slightly, having just returned from the Fall's Sunday show at the Hammersmith Palais. It was a pretty typical Fall gig. Mark E Smith roamed the stage like the world's angriest janitor, adjusting his band's amplifiers. He broke his microphone and got a new one only by dismantling a piece of the drumkit. He glared at his guitarist as he played the solo on White Lightning, ready to slap down any sign of blossoming ego in his new, still-wet-behind-the-ears charges.
For the Hammersmith Palais, however, this was no everyday gig: this was the last chance to dance. Hammersmith Palais de Danse survived the Blitz, lived through rock'n'roll, rave and the NME Awards, and was immortalised by the Clash in their song (White Man) In Hammersmith Palais, but has finally found its ultimate nemesis: property developers. Following the venue's closure, it is due to be demolished and converted into an office and restaurant complex.
This is a depressing story, but an increasingly familiar one. With property prices in central London still skyrocketing, other venues are feeling the squeeze. The Astoria, a familiar stamping ground for future rock contenders on the rise, is under threat following its sale last year. A more intimate venue, the Spitz in Spitalfields, East London, has announced it is due to close its doors in less than six months to be renovated into a gastropub. There's been a lot of talk about how downloading is killing the music industry, but ultimately, the "industry" is expendable: all they really do is sell music encoded on bits of plastic. A good venue, though, is something different. And if, as we're told, the live music scene in the UK is booming, why are all the best venues dropping like flies?
For the Hammersmith Palais, it was a somewhat inglorious send off. As the Fall mooched offstage, a punk in a cream suit struggled onstage and grabbed the microphone to make a speech on behalf of the Palais's loyal supporters: "Get out here and play us some music!" The Fall returned for an encore, but seemingly inspired by the invasion, the stage was now swarming with yellow jackets. Mark E Smith would not tolerate it. "Thank you for letting us into your security area," he barked, sarcastically, and was gone. You got that wrong, Mark. This isn't a security area - it's a construction site.
