One woman’s mission to save live music in Sydney is causing a stir - and noise complaints
The most popular bar in Windsor, in western Sydney, only serves five people a day. Yet once a week, the venue is so busy it sells out of beer. The reason why might surprise you.
Sydney Weekend
Don't miss out on the headlines from Sydney Weekend. Followed categories will be added to My News.
The most popular pub in Windsor serves around five customers a day. You can’t get a schnitzel here – the venue is too small to warrant a kitchen – and the bar has only four rickety stools.
Yet once a week, the small establishment will be packed, heaving with hot bodies, the line for drinks so long it spills out on to the road. The normally quiet town on Sydney’s northwest fringe will be inundated with noise complaints as people flock to the creaking waterhole.
They all come for one reason – to hear an unknown band sing.
And it’s all thanks to one woman.
Leanne Gough is on a mission to save live music. For the past three years, the 53-year-old bartender from western Sydney has been single-handedly funding small, unheard-of bands to perform.
She follows her ears, spending her free time roaming live music scenes, dimly lit cafes, and garage jam sessions, searching for anyone willing to play at her gigs. She doesn’t make any money from her efforts. For Gough, the music is enough.
“I’m a live music fanatic. I have been since I was a child … I had a traumatic event when I was a very young girl. And then I went to my first live gig, which was AC/DC, and it meant everything to me,” she tells Sydney Weekend.
“It was the only time that my mind was free. It saved me. Now I have to save it back.”
At first, the gigs were held in empty paddocks. In the aftermath of Covid-19, Gough was desperate to help struggling musicians. Restrictions were easing, but venues were booking-shy, nervous to lock in gigs for fear of cancellation.
As dance floors gathered dust, Gough dived in headfirst. She hosted gigs in her back yard, pulling down her back fence so she could fit in as many people as possible without breaking the rules. Soon, she was renting vacant blocks of land and hosting her own mini festivals.
“People were eager to pay $65 to have live music back in their lives. Everything went to the musicians … the stage crew, and sound crew. We just wanted to get musicians paid again. We just wanted to get food back on their tables,” she says.
When the block of land sold, she pushed on and moved the gigs to her local pub.
THE RETURN OF LIVE MUSIC TO SYDNEY
Gough’s not the only one on a mission to revive live music. Listen carefully, and you will hear it. Something is happening in Sydney. Slowly but surely, live music is rising from its grave. Once sentenced to death by lockout laws, SoundCloud and Spotify, live gigs are back and taking over garages, back yards and sticky-floored dance floors of local pubs.
In recent years, social media platforms like TikTok have become one of the most vital tools for up-and-coming musicians to find their audiences. While legendary bands like INXS began their journey gigging in their parents’ garage, these days, an artist can release a song online, go viral on TikTok and have hundreds of thousands of listeners, all before they have ever performed live.
The origin stories of world-famous artists like American rapper Lil Nas X (29.3 million followers) and pop singer Olivia Rodrigo (15.4 million) are intertwined with TikTok. American singer Lizzo – set to headline Australian music festival Splendour In The Grass – exploded in popularity after her two-year-old song Truth Hurts, suddenly went viral on the app. In an age where social media is the cornerstone of musicians’ success, it is unusual to see gigging return to such heights.
Polling by the Office of the 24-Hour Economy Commissioner found that attendance of live music in Sydney has increased in the last six months, and 43 per cent of those polled want more live gigs. Research from the Night Time Industries Association found original live performances have grown week on week since 2022.
The newly elected NSW Labor government has committed $103m towards NSW’s contemporary music scene, as well as pledging to bring back lost music venues over the next four years. Economy Commissioner Michael Rodrigues wants the momentum to continue.
“Going forward, we want to maintain this growth in activity but also look at increasing access to performance space, particularly in Western Sydney, which has traditionally lacked the number of venues found in the east and inner west of Sydney,” he says.
Those unwilling to wait for investment to catch up with demand have taken matters into their own hands. Across greater Sydney, “secret” private gigs are popping up.
Unable to access venues typically seen in the city, young musicians like Wil Linder are holding their own performances. The 20-year-old real estate photographer from Blaxland’s Ridge, near Richmond, recently released his first EP. To celebrate, he held a free festival in his parent’s back yard.
Under a star-speckled sky, standing on the back of a fairy-light-wrapped trailer he performed for three hours. More than 100 people showed up.
“You just see it everywhere now. I got added into the Instagram group chat of musos from around the country and I’d say 95 per cent of the posts in there are about their secret backyard shows,” he says.
According to Linder, many musicians either can’t afford to play at a pub or live music venue, or can’t find one locally. Organising their own event has become the perfect solution.
“It’s the big thing now because they’re reasonably easy to put on. To not be out of pocket to do a show is everything. Most musicians are only just getting by. They aren’t doing it for the money, they are doing it because they love it,” he says.
Music lawyer and Australian Live Music Business Council board member Howard Adams isn’t surprised by the pop up performances.
“In the wake of the downturn, there is a certain amount of DIY resilience in Sydney’s live music scene,” he says. “The live music industry business in Australia is worth billions of dollars. But it is rarely considered as something to be taken seriously … live music is fighting back.”
According to Adams, the emergence of a live music scene in Greater and Western Sydney is “not only wonderful, but it’s necessary”.
“If you look at Western Sydney, there’s a number of different social groups living out in that part of the world and the great thing about live music is that it just provides cohesion,” he says.
“The one thing that live music does is you have this moment where everyone is together on the same page, just enjoying the moment. The social glue that (live music) provides cannot be underestimated.”
MUSIC SAVED MY LIFE
For Gough, the decision to throw herself into music wasn’t as much a choice as a necessity.
“My parents were music lovers, my mum was an Elvis fan. We always had Sunday afternoons at the pub or local club watching bands. But it saved my life when I was a teenager,” she says.
When she was just 10 years old Gough was abused. Her trust was broken in the world, shattered beyond repair. Then she attended her first concert. As the notes washed over her, her mind was clear. The melody weaved through her invisible wounds, healing her.
“I always felt like there was something wrong with me. But once I was with 50,000 other people on the dance floor, I felt different. I felt like I was the same as everyone else. I felt home,” she says.
“Every time I go to a gig now, or hold a gig, there’s nothing else in this world that matters any more than where I am and dancing all day.”
Her eyes light up as she talks about her most recent gig, a Western Sydney band called Fever Dream. The young group of university students are new to the industry. Between lectures and assignments, they spend their time furiously practising, seeking gigs wherever they can find them.
Gough approached them after hearing them play at an open mic night. She insisted they play for her, with an added bonus – for the first time ever, they would be paid.
The night was a major turning point. Briefly, the group of boys from the west were rock stars, the checkered lino floors they stood on a world stage. For an hour and a half, they had made it. They packed out the tiny venue. The room, riddled with antique armchairs, was bursting.
When Gough speaks about the band, she sounds like a proud mum.
“Something really special happened in that room the other night. It’s so hard to get support for musicians anymore these days, but the support came through that night. We sold out of nearly all our alcohol that night.”
Lead singer Mitchell Price says the gig was a dream come true.
“Leanne heard us play at an open mic night and came up to us and straight away offered us a gig. We love live music … it was just a great feeling to do something you really love and also getting paid on top is just a ridiculous added bonus.”
For Gough, nothing is more rewarding than seeing a band’s confidence grow. It might just be a tiny, four-stooled pub in Windsor, but her gigs open doors. Since playing for Gough, Fever Dream has had offers to play at venues across the city.
“They were so scared at first,” she says. “They couldn’t believe we wanted them to play. Now look at them.”
The locals love it as well. Graham Mclean has been coming to The Railway Hotel for longer than he can remember. The 69-year-old Hawkesbury retiree has earned his place as a pub regular, claiming the prized stool closest to the bar. Yet, instead of sizing up the newcomers that flock to his drinking hole, his face lights up when he sees the thick queue for beer. Sure, he has to wait longer for his schooner of VB, but if you ask him, it’s worth it.
“It’s bloody brilliant. It’s changed the pub. You don’t just get locals down here, you get people from all around,” he says.
“When the bands come on it’s really busy – the pub comes alive.”
Gough’s impact on the community is undeniable. But when the music stops, and the conversation turns to the woman behind it all, she is like a humble, if not shy, mum.
“The worst thing in the music industry is ego,” she says. “It’s not about that (the attention) for me. It’s all about the music. I feel like I am being pushed from somewhere else to save music.”
‘Fur-covered wrecking ball’: The dog breeds you should avoid
You went to the pet shop to buy a boggle-eyed gold fish and instead came back with a dog who looks like one, Nikki Osborne reveals the dog breeds to avoid.
‘When it hits you, it’s like wow’: Robert Irwin’s mental health awakening
Robert Irwin might be known for wrestling crocs and wrangling celebrities in the jungle, but he admits he also wrestles with self doubts and mental health challenges, too.