Thoroughly Modern Manchester

(This was written ages ago but it's not until now that I've had a chance to transfer it from my laptop to a computer at an internet cafe. More stories to come...)

These Northerners are quite proud of their city, aren’t they? The Manchester folk that spoke to us after our opening night at the Lowry were insistent that I check out the centre of town, after I had dared to suggest that I didn’t have the energy to be a tourist as London had tired me out. I didn’t need to see another old building or some slanting wall of glass or whatever. Besides, there was enough Modern going on around Salford Quays where we were staying and performing, with the colourful The Lowry and the oblique curves of Libeskind’s Imperial War Museum across the water. My favourites were the NV Buildings, apartments that seemed to be bending in the wind. But, apart from that, the Quays were as desolate as Homebush, not quite on the same scale but similarly dearth of any form of life. Planned to death. There’s a ghostly outlet mall and cinema complex, a few restaurants, but nothing that would actually sustain any kind of community.

Manchester was described to me as the “cradle of the Industrial Revolution” and, without the governmental and cultural significance that London had through its history, it looked very mediocre indeed. Old factory buildings are rarely architectural masterpieces. Part of my disappointment was that, being described as England’s second city, I was expecting a lot more. Melbourne is Australia’s second city. Los Angeles (or Chigago?) is America’s second city. Despite its significant contribution to the UK music scene, Manchester seems to define itself in terms of London, albeit in its staunch declaration that it is able to “look London in the eye and show it how it’s done” (or something like that, I forget how the quote goes). It’s a city that has an inferiority complex, that it’s constantly trying to prove itself. I only had a few hours on our last performance day to check out Manchester and places like Oldham Street (and, reportedly, Affleck Palace) showed some promise of an alternative, stand-alone identity from the long shadow of that great southern city. But further wanderings up through Arndale and Deansgate and Cathedral destroyed all that potential, covered it up with concrete, slabs of grass and your standard fare of high street fashion labels that you can get along London’s Oxford Street. I also came across the Urbis, which tried so very hard to convince me that, yes! Manchester is a vibrant and modern city. The more it tried, the less I was convinced. The music: yes. Everything else: no.

On the plus side, the Mancunians seem to be much friendlier than their World-City counterparts down south, and they were much more open to what we had to offer (well, the few people that did bother to turn up!). Also, to get some perspective on the matter, I guess I was mistaken in my assumption that the city was bigger that it is; for a city of less than half a million, I guess it’s doing pretty well for itself. And I do tend to reduce my evaluations of cities in terms of visual elements, the available shopping options, and quality of expresso.

Tags: Manchester