Interview with Anthony Toner

One year on from the first of our lockdown interviews, we caught up again to chat with Anthony Toner about live streams, Brexit, and unfinished business.

As we approach the first anniversary of lockdown restrictions being imposed on the music industry, Folk and Tumble caught up with some of our musician friends to see how they had coped with the restrictions, and their hopes for the future. Today, it's the turn of singer-songwriter Anthony Toner.

FT: We have been in a cycle of lockdowns and restrictions for a year now. How have you found that year?

AT: I’m sure my experience has been familiar: a mixture of feelings. Some days it feels wonderful, like that McCartney line from ‘Abbey Road’:

Oh that magic feeling – nowhere to go…

Other days it’s completely maddening and frustrating, nowhere to go. I have missed the social parts of my old life terribly – meeting friends for coffee, going out to see shows or play shows, nipping in somewhere for a drink. Most of all I’ve been missing family connection at both ends of my generation. My father died last July (Alzheimer’s, not Covid) and it was a real struggle to get in to see him in his last few weeks, and then of course he had a very muted and limited funeral. He deserved better, and I couldn’t give it to him. And I haven’t seen my daughter Sian and my grandson Jude since Christmas morning. All the Zoom calls and WhatsApp pictures in the world can’t replace the time I could have spent reading stories with that little boy.

FT: Have you found any unexpected inspiration during the restrictions and what, if any activities have you found that has helped keep you grounded?

AT: It’s been the same for me as many others, I think. I have enormously enjoyed cooking and baking, although to be fair I enjoyed that before Covid came along. The most unexpected thing was gardening. I’d been a willing but not quite committed gardener before, but last spring I really took to it. We had wonderful weather and there was a lot of morning coffee outdoors, repotting and weeding and harvesting that went on. We made cherry vodka from the fruit off our own tree, made pesto from rocket I had grown from seed. I’m looking forward to the return of all that. The bulbs I planted last autumn are starting to come up now, and that’s a first for me. And there was a little DIY. I’ve lost my mojo with that in the last few months, though, and I need to get back to it. Put some podcasts on and get up a ladder.

FT: Have you received any government support for loss of income?

AT: Yes, I’ve received help from the Self Employed Scheme, and got one of the Arts Council Emergency Awards, which were great, I can tell you. Each one of them seemed to head off a financial crisis. And there have been bits and pieces of work, online gigs and such, here and there, so I’ve managed to keep the house warm this winter and pay the mortgage. Gratitude, gratitude.

FT: What have you missed most about playing live shows?

AT: Connection. I’ve always been in this business for connection, with other musicians, with venues, with listeners. I miss the anticipation of shows, packing the car and driving to the venue, arriving and setting up, meeting the other players, seeing familiar faces in the audience, the banter afterward, the drive home. I said to a musician friend a few months ago – I’ll never complain about another long drive, rain-soaked load-in, a flight of stairs, or extended soundcheck ever again. It’s a privilege to be a working musician – a teenage dream come true. I’ve never taken it for granted, but I promise myself I’ll savour it all much more in the future.

FT: Many artists embraced the streaming of live performances. Did you, and what are your thoughts on that?

AT: I have, but I resisted at first. Everyone seemed to be streaming at the start of lockdown, and I held back and kind of missed the boat with it. And then I thought a lot of it looked so amateurish, and so I was glad I had steered clear. I was offered a couple of paid ‘gigs’, filming and recording myself playing at home, and I was at least able to keep an eye on the quality of those. But a lot of it looked like a poor substitute to me.

My best experiences – the closest I have come to replacing the gigs, have been live-streamed shows from the Playhouse in Derry and the Ardhowen in Enniskillen, where the sound and video quality were high and the audience had made a commitment, to tune in for free or pay for a ticket. I haven’t consumed a lot of the ‘professional’ shows, I must admit. The Hold Steady have a show from Brooklyn coming up, and I might buy a ticket for that. I’m sorry I missed the Nick Cave one. I do believe the ‘streaming gig’ is here to stay in one form or another. I have a feeling that traditional gigs will come with an additional streaming element from now on. Venues would be mad not to consider it as an entire extra audience out there. I did a Zoom gig for the Sunflower Folk Club earlier this year and there were people from Canada and Texas tuning in, as well as their regulars.

There are a lot of questions to ask around the addition of streaming. Would it hurt ticket sales for the ‘real’ thing, or generate extra income on top of it? Would the artists have any input or income from it? And how heavily would venues want to invest in the camera and sound equipment, and the streaming experience? It’s all fascinating. There are good ways and bad ways of doing it. I know things like Zoom are far from ideal in terms of sound quality, but it’s still a connection with an audience.

FT: If this is the last lockdown, when do you think you will be able to confidently take bookings for shows again?

AT: That’s the 64 million dollar question, I suppose. I heard today that tickets for the Reading Festival in August are already selling fast. They just announced they’re going ahead. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but that feels like a gamble to me. I’ve been in contact with venues, although not for a while. It has seemed so pointless up ’til now. My gut instinct is that I won’t be playing live until late in the year, autumn into winter. Maybe some outdoor things in the late summer.

FT: COVID restrictions aside. How do you feel Brexit will affect your career?

AT: It’s an enormous hassle if you want to play in Europe. Luckily, I haven’t played Europe that often, but it was always on my list to explore the options, so… that’s the end of that idea. At the moment, it looks like even playing gigs in the Republic of Ireland could be problematic, although I know the Musicians Union, etc. are working on resolving some of that. To be honest, I think it’s hard to say how it will all turn out. As Dylan said, “the wheel’s still in spin”.

FT: If you could advise the government on how to proceed with the re-opening of live music venues again, what would your advice be?

AT: Honestly, I would urge the government to listen more carefully to the sector, and especially the venues themselves. They know their audiences, they know their staff and they know how they can make it work safely. Audiences are so hungry to come back, but they’re also – quite rightly – concerned about the risks. And if social distancing means venues can only take half of an audience, the artists have a role to play, too, in accepting reduced fees for a time, so venues can get back to work. We’re all dependent on each other. It should be a ‘come rain or come shine’ relationship, I’ve always said so.

FT: When things return to normal what are your plans?

AT: First thing, haircut. Of course, it would be lovely to travel and see relatives and friends again. But mostly I look forward to just experiencing my world again without restrictions – playing and going to gigs, movies, theatre. Out for a bite to eat once in a while. Actually, we had planned a road trip late last year between the lockdowns, over on the ferry to Scotland to see friends in Edinburgh for a couple of days, then a drive down to London to visit Andrea’s mother for a few days, stopping on the way to walk along Hadrian’s Wall. About ten days in all. We cancelled the whole thing when the restrictions came in, but that road trip has stayed in our minds as something we had really been looking forward to – so maybe that would be the first thing. It feels like unfinished business.