Music

Here's what happens when thirsty Calgary marketers launch a music festival

by Mark Teo

As a musical city, Calgary routinely punches above its weight.

We have, after all, written not one, but two posts celebrating the city in song — and they’ve produced everyone from The Stampeders to Viet Cong. There’s a bustling festival circuit, which ranges from heavy-hitting events such as the currently raging Sled Island, mainstays such as the Calgary Folk Fest, and even hardcore fests like Garbage Daze. The National Music Centre is a national treasure. There are emergent rap and electronic scenes. Heck, it’s even produced notable deserters, Braids and Un Blonde among them. Add on a loveable non-old, non-white-guy mayor who rubs shoulders with Jann Arden in music videos, and you’d think that Calgary’s an excellent place.

Of course, that isn’t wholly true. The most impressive thing about Cowtown’s music community is that yes, it exists, and further, it exists in less-than-friendly cultural environs. For all its international aspirations, Calgary’s essentially a suburb, with a million people spread out over the size of New York City. It’s a new-money city whose economy is inextricably tied to oil. It’s the seat of cap-C and lowercase-c conservatism. And for its famed youth, Calgary is a yuccie city if there ever was one, a town newly resplendent with the fruits of the creative class — that is, semi-decent beer, custom terrarium shops, bougie flea markets, and other things ad-agency account managers enjoy. Still, there’s a reason why so many of its culture-forward people leave, and maybe it’s because Calgary has a real, actual magazine named Branded. (Sorry to twist the knife, buds.)

All of which brings us to 50 Days YYC, an example of what happens when the Branded demo attempts to throw a music festival. At first glance, it seems like a lofty concept: It’s a 50-day musical takeover of the city, and with a projected start date of August 1, they’re already putting out a call for participants. But before we go any further, watch the promo video in all its glory.

From an outsider’s perspective — FYI, I live in Toronto — this is pure comedy. The festival’s founder, a friendly looking, varsity jacket-toting man named Ruben Young, drops his degree as if it’s a job interview (it’s the Haskayne School of Business). Atop Friday Night Lights-esque post-rock, there are greasy platitudes about the meaning of music, artistry, and, in the biggest dick chill of ’em all, endless chatter about how they’re targeting a youthful, social demographic. But here’s the best part: Young describes Calgary’s music community by, well, shitting all over it. Then, the video drives the point home with footage of “Crazy Town”-looking chongos drinking coolers in the park and doing backflips while chugging beers.

Here’s the festival’s raison d’être, according to Young.

“If you’re like me, you’re unfamiliar with basically any local music artist, and I don’t think that’s acceptable,” adds Ben Gough, the festival’s creative lead.

That’s some quality nonsense, right there. Let’s rewind, though. The feeling of alienation expressed here is a legitimate one, and a festival striving for inclusivity is admirable. But the troubling part about those statements boils down to who they blame: 50 Days YYC’s founders may feel disconnected from their city’s scene, but shaming its musicians, promoters, and venues hardly feels like a solution. You don’t crowdfund a music festival by insulting Calgary’s perpetually overachieving music-makers.

Then again, maybe their problem isn’t with the music itself. After all, 50 Days YYC does admit that there’s a scene in Calgary (that no one hears about, apparently) and venues to support it (the indomitable Palomino and, apparently, the Ironwood, which is showcased prominently in their promo vid). The problem, they argue, is with marketing — their issue is that the average, artistry-respectin’, music-lovin’, everything-but-rap-and-country folks can’t find music unless they’re told about it.

It’s a statement that’s both insulting and hilariously entitled. Insulting because it insinuates that the music-listening demographic is stupid, which may or may not be true. Entitled because it assumes that community involvement is gifted when, in fact, it isn’t. Communities are built with actual labour, actual money, and actual participation — civic pride isn’t as simple as owning a throw pillow emblazoned with an airport code. (Something which my hometown — and the second-greatest city in Canada — is most certainly guilty of.)

As tone-deaf as it might seem, though, it’s hard to outright hate 50 Days YYC. Partially, because they tap into a harsh reality — inclusiveness is a real problem in cultural scenes. Partially, it’s because in a twisted entrepreneurial way, the festival is attempting to contribute to its city’s culture. But mostly, they’re hard to despise because straight up — this shit’s hilarious. Check out 50 Days YYC’s Kickstarter here.