RETRO BAR, SACKVILLE STREET
MANCHESTER, 3.29 AM
Watch the film, with narrative and field recordings.
Some mornings the sound of birdsong fills the still air. Other times there is a tense silence, and I’m caused to strain to hear the first notes of the blackbird’s delicious melody, signalling the end of darkness.
On this particular breezeless morning in May, as I patrolled the area near Retro Bar, still too deep in shadow to be photographed, the main sound was of a ventilation unit sucking feted air from a nearby car park. A young man scooted past, shortly to return and peer through the window of the closed bar.
One of the university buildings was now fenced off, like when they put screens around an injured race horse, indicating that it was nearing the end of its life. Much of this estate is soon to be demolished and replaced with new towers, our city’s totems of power, wealth and ambition.
After I’d photographed a neighbouring 1960s laboratory block, Retro Bar was ready for its close up. The previous evening, when I’d come to recce the area, a group of young people had gathered on the steps outside, and were talking of their lives in Manchester, of their ambitions in music. One of them had already managed to be on tour, and his friends cheered when he told them.
Inside a singer held a room’s attention, and a beguiling melody wrapped in warm light spilled into the street. It was difficult to believe that soon this place would no longer exist, and was now being readied to join the box of myths that make up a city’s history.
A security guard came along the street and shone a torch straight into my eyes, momentarily removing my ability to see the street around me.
“Is that your microphone over on the wall? He asked, and lowered the beam of light.
“Yes” I replied. “I like to record the sounds of the city”
We both looked towards the condemned bar, and he cocked his ear.
“Nothing much to hear today. Not even the birds” he said before turning back to his post, and leaving me to the sounds of empty trains, and a city still asleep.
