Alison Irvine first went into the Barrowland Ballroom with a dictaphone and no fixed plan, working shifts behind the bar and in the cloakroom for a limited-edition book, Barrowland Ballads. Barrowland: The Inside Story of Glasgow’s Beloved Ballroom, keeps the original chapters and adds a substantial new section. Famous gigs get a mention, but the real subject is the people who keep the place running: cloakroom staff called names by drunk punters who’ve lost their tickets, a cleaner who photographs her own work to show the general manager, a promoter who started out on a market stall. There’s a portrait of Glasgow’s East End too, and what the Barras and the Ballroom have meant to Glasgow music lovers for nearly a century.
Jason Barnard spoke to Alison Irvine about the book, and the place.
Barrowland Ballads was published in 2019. This expanded edition returns to many of the same people and places while adding a substantial amount of new material. What drew you back?
There were several reasons why I wanted to revisit the Barrowland. One of them was Covid. I remember when the venue had to close its doors during the pandemic and gigs were stopped. When the venue reopened, it felt like a new chapter. I wanted to document how people coped without live music and how the Barrowland survived.
I went to a few gigs after I’d finished the first book and each time I was in the building I’d think Oh, I’d love to write about that or I wish I’d included that. There were a few staff members I missed the first time round – like resident electrician and rigger Jim, and the bar staff who work in the upstairs bars. There were staff members whose stories I wanted to pick up on, too, like characters in a book. John, the bar manager for example. He began his association with Margaret McIver Limited by selling goods in the Barras market, became nightwatchman then maintenance man, and by the time I interviewed him for the new material he was in charge of all the Barrowland bars. Monika, too, had gone from toilet attendant and overnight cleaner to cloakroom supervisor as well as cleaning supervisor. She’d also had another baby.
Also, quite simply, any excuse to hang about the Barrowland Ballroom again. I felt a real affinity to the place and the staff and wanted to be back.
You describe being given the equivalent of an access-all-areas pass. In practical terms, what did a typical day of research look like?
I spent a lot of time just talking with people. I’d often meet them in the market office which you get to through the main entrance on the Gallowgate. I’d go through the bustling market if it was a weekend or past the shut-up stalls if it was a weekday. From the office, we might go on a walk around the venue. I’d generally turn my dictaphone on, hold it in front of me as we walked and away we’d go. I liked to interview people where they worked. I chatted to maintenance man, Thomas, in one of the work sheds. I watched him spray-paint one of the famous Barrowland stars. I chatted to the bar staff in the bar and on the padded seats in the dimly lit ballroom. I chatted to toilet attendant Monika in her wee cupboard in the pink-tiled ladies’ toilets. On the night of a gig, I’d usually have arranged to talk to people in one particular area – it could be the cloakroom staff, for example – so I’d spend some time with them, but I might come and go and nip upstairs to see what the gig was like. Inevitably I’d get talking to gig-goers. I have the idea of never saying no to a conversation as you never know where it might take you or who it might lead you to, so I often couldn’t predict what material I’d come away with after a day at the Barrowland. I did have the equivalent of an AAA pass, though, and I feel very lucky that I got to go behind the stage during gigs or I got to see inside the security office with all the TV screens, or I got to stand and watch the ticket checks at the door. I observed a morning load-in and had an early start for that but I’m ashamed to stay I didn’t stay past midnight to watch an overnight clean of the venue, nor did I spend a night with the nightwatchman on his shift. Maybe for the next book…
You worked shifts in the cloakroom and behind the bar. What did those experiences teach you that interviews could not?
Seeing the hall fill up from my spot behind the bar was quite something. I don’t think I’d have quite appreciated the whole rhythm of a gig had I not been there from start to finish. And the same with working a whole cloakroom shift – seeing people arrive at the start, perhaps coming back in to get something from their coat pocket – and then returning at the end of the night, elated from the gig.. Those experiences really gave me an understanding of the interactions between staff and audience which was one of the things I wanted to write about. Barrowland is all about interactions – the big one is audience and artist on stage – but what makes a Barrowland night memorable is the interactions that go on within the building, the banter, the jokes, the shared experiences. I saw plenty of that during my bar and cloakroom shifts.
Different people remember the day of the Simple Minds’ ‘Waterfront’ filming slightly differently. When you were gathering those memories, were you interested in establishing exactly what happened, or in what those different versions revealed about the way people remember a shared experience?
It was the latter for me. I love the fact that three people who were definitely there on the day all had different recollections of it. From who said what and when to the order of events on the day – did Simple Minds record their video first or did they perform some live numbers as a ‘thank you’ before that? In my opinion, it doesn’t really matter. From my interviews with Lesley and Howard, two of the young people who got tickets, it was clear that being in the audience that day had a huge impact on their lives. It was a formative moment for them. Lesley went on to become a music journalist. Howard’s experience came at the end of a long and dispiriting job hunt – he got a job shortly after. Billy Sloan’s part in the day was another chapter in his extraordinary career as a journalist and DJ. That’s more important to me than establishing exactly what happened.
After spending so much time researching the venue, do you think that day changed its future, or would the Barrowland have become the Barrowland anyway?
I have often thought about this. I think the Barrowland would have become a music venue anyway whether or not the video was filmed there. I’ve been told that it was on people’s radar as a potential gig venue. And I think what we know and love about the Barrowland would have happened anyway – that combination of venue, audience and artist. But I think that day added to the venue’s legend. It’s become part of the venue’s story, and who doesn’t love a good story? The fact that there are people going to gigs there today who were at the filming over forty years ago; that’s special. And also the fact that it was Simple Minds, a Glasgow band; that adds to the Barrowland legend.
Several people speak about periods when the Barrowland and the Barras felt uncertain or vulnerable. How aware were you, while researching the book, that this much-loved place has also had to fight for its survival?
When I interviewed general manager Tom Joyes, who has worked at Margaret McIver Limited for over forty years, about the impact of Covid he said at no point was he worried about the future of the Barras and at no point was he worried about the Ballroom. I believe him. Of course, there was work to be done, particularly with the Barras in recent years. But look at it now. It’s thriving. I think during the many uncertain times in the Barras and Ballroom’s history, the staff and managing directors over the year have taken good advice, adapted, and developed really good working relationships with promotors, traders and the local community, ensuring that the venue will survive.
Promoters and venue staff often speak about the Barrowland in emotional terms. What is it about the place that encourages that kind of attachment?
Great question! It’s something to do with the fact that the look of the venue has hardly changed. Who couldn’t be excited by the sight of that neon sign on gig nights? And inside, those stars, the acoustic ceiling tiles, the sprung floor. Promoters like the down-to-earth welcome they get. Staff pride themselves on providing that down-to-earth welcome.
Also, a Barrowland gig has the potential to be extraordinary and I guess it becomes self-fulfilling. Bands know they’re in for a good night if they step up. Audiences know they’re in for a good night if they play their part. So people generally have the time of their lives. And that creates the attachment and happy memories and the desire to do it all again next time.
How conscious were you that you were writing about Glasgow’s East End as much as you were writing about a music venue?
I was very conscious. I think part of what makes Barrowland so special is where it is in the city. Recently, the East End has had a renaissance. There have been some key artistic institutions opening up in the area. The market has changed a lot and in amongst the original traders selling bric a brac and furniture or wrestling figures, are the street food units and new traders selling records or clothes. I wanted to be sure that locals weren’t being priced out or culturally forced out but it doesn’t seem to be that way. The Barras is a brilliant mix of people; old-timers and new visitors. I spoke to one woman who had been trading there and living in the area all her life and she expressed pride that this was her patch and it was so popular. I’m painting a utopian picture here and I’m sure there have been struggles and issues along the way, but it does seem to be thriving at the moment, and I think the East End is the better for it.
What are the Top 5 Barrowland gigs and why?
Oh, this was a tough question. In the end, I decided to ask the experts – the Barrowland fans. I put a question on the Barrowland Memories Facebook page (a brilliant forum for gig chat, anecdotes and general Barrowland appreciation). Of course, I was provided with an eclectic array of gigs and it was hard to choose from them. But, here you go, in no particular order:
- * Muse 2015 ‘They performed a secret album launch show at the Barrowland Ballroom that just about blew the roof off the place. They brought parts of their arena production into the venue.’ (Fraser)
- * The Pogues December 1987 ‘The first live playing of “Fairytale of New York” with Kirsty MacColl. Magical. You had to be there.’ (Maria)
- * David Bowie 1997 ‘I’ve seen loads of gigs there, but nothing comes close to seeing David Bowie. Truly unforgettable.’ (Pete)
- * Biffy Clyro 2014 ‘The Saturday night of Biffy Clyro’s three nights was immense. The crowd was fantastic and the boys played their hearts out.’ (Steph)
- * Bob Dylan 2004 He was quoted as saying: ‘I must say you’re the best singing audience that we’ve ever heard. We must have played that song a thousand times and nobody could ever sing with it.’ (Craig)
So many people said it was hard to narrow down their best gigs to only five and gave further suggestions. So here are a couple more answers that I thought summed up the spirit of the Barrowland that I was trying to capture in the book:
- * Metallica 1996 ‘The Load tour. I queued overnight outside Ripping Records in Edinburgh for tickets. A truly memorable gig.’ (Stuart)
- * Mull Historical Society in April 2003. ‘It was my first date with my husband.’ (Eve)
After all the conversations, all the time spent in the building and all the stories you’ve gathered, what do you think the Barrowland actually does to music that other venues do not?
I think it makes music accessible. Yes, the artists are on a pedestal – they’re playing the Barrowland Ballroom! – but the distance between stage and audience feels small. The artists are close up. You can see the sweat and enjoyment on their faces. Any aspiring musician in the audience could make an aspirational leap from dance floor to stage.
The Barrowland promotes the mental health benefits of listening to live music too and I think the atmosphere inside the venue helps. If you want a bit of banter with the bar staff, you’ll get it – actually you’ll get it whether you want it or not! If you want a conversation with the person standing next to you in the queue, you’ll get it. If you want to be part of a shared experience chanting ‘Here we, here we, here we f**king go!’ with 1900 other people, you’ll also get that. It’s great for your mental health.
Further information
Alison Irvine’s book Barrowland: The Inside Story of Glasgow’s beloved ballroom, published by Luath Press, is out now. More details are at alisonirvine.org.uk
See also barrowland.co.uk
