First They Came for the Drag Queens…
There are certain phrases and events that fill every Londoner with blind terror. ‘Rail Replacement Bus’, for example.
When someone suggests going for a bagel on Brick Lane and you discover they want to go to the wrong bagel shop. Having to be within a two mile radius of the London Dungeon or Madam Tussaud’s, ever. All of these, however, pale in comparison to the most horrifying phrase and concept of them all: ‘urban redevelopment’. Fresh from closing down your favourite gig venue or arts space elsewhere in the city, the venture capitalist hand of death is set to creep over Camden Lock.
True, the Lock may have its faults. No one needs that many knock-off ‘Obey’ t-shirts, whimsically- shaped bongs or whatever it is that they sell at Cyberdog. If I never have to walk around another group of American schoolgirls looking at cheap sunglasses I’ll be very happy indeed. But these are the problems that come with somewhere being still reasonably cheap and a place people want to go to.
I’ll take a million severely pierced men handing me leaflets over the area being redeveloped by the team behind the Shard, who unveiled their plans last week, full of office space, pricey housing for dickheads and other such dreaded features. In fact, the whole thing looks like another place that fills Londoners with dread: Westfield.
What is saddest about this is the loss of many an iconic music venue. Dingwalls, the club that hosted early Ramones gigs will be going soon and other venues can be sure to follow in its footsteps if the price is right.
This is a loss not only of much of our musical heritage, with bands from Blondie to the Libertines playing famous early gigs here, but also of our own personal music memories. I have two separate friends who have stories about being prepositioned by Carl Barat for sex in a Camden bar, and I would hate to think that those two girls will lose the place behind that memory.
The subtle invasion of VC money into Camden has begun already. Last week saw the sudden closure of the Black Cap, Camden’s sole gay bar, following a council order.
The closure of a beloved but scuzzy gay bar is always a sign of the imminent gentrifi-copalypse (see also Madame Jojo’s in Soho, which closed last winter) a symbol that it’s time to add another location to the list of ‘places you will never go to unless your Mum wants to visit and is paying for dinner’. First they come for the drag queens, and then they come for your favourite venue.
So how do you stop the oncoming tide of Balham Brigade Yummy Mummies from encroaching on your Camden territory? Support your local gig venue, record store and dive bar vehemently.
Start a revolution against the redevelopers (anyone who has ever been in the Stables Market knows it has enough military gear to stock a major army) and hey, even stock up on a novelty bong or too. In short, let them know it’s your Camden and you aren’t going anywhere.
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