By Isabella Shakil-Woodford
Illustrated by Mithalina Taib
When thinking about creativity on campus, words such as ‘forgotten’, ‘hidden’, and ‘magical’ come to mind. Creativity, and the music scene in particular at LSE, feels like a hidden gem – something truly special for those who know about it, but invisible for those who don’t.
To assume there are students who are passionate about music at the London School of Economics and Political Science would be misplaced, right? Wrong. Despite the corporate reputation of this university, there exists a community, bigger than most would assume, whose passion lies within music. In fact, this passion is not just a hobby, but a serious dedication intended for a career.
But where are they? Throughout my three years at LSE, I have worked to find a group of people on campus who engage in the arts and celebrate all facets of it, be it the ‘Music Business Society’ or wellbeing-oriented communities such as the LSESU open mic event ‘LSE Chill’. These very communities will be the subject of this article, the intermediaries between mainstream corporate culture and the fostering of creative expression.
Let me set the scene for you: an open door to a building on campus I have never entered before, an amp holding open the paint chipped door with ‘band jam’ scribbled in blue ink. Taking a few tentative steps down the staircase, I begin to hear an entanglement of sounds – loud guitar and lively chatter. In a classroom I didn’t know existed stood a group of three students from Album Society, expertly playing classic rock. While I only spent a few minutes there, their talent and passion were palpable.
“We [also] host band jams”, explained Akhmet, the Music Society nanny, describing how the Album Society and Music Society band jams work, and further stating that he often oversees events from other music societies and vice versa. They all support one another. “We decentralise it [being in a band] a bit. Let other individual members, kind of, make their own bands. We let it happen informally. [Through the band jams] people play together and see if there is any chemistry.”
The freedom of creativity fostered through these band jams presents collaborative musicality as something to be celebrated. Even at LSE, individuals are able to find others who share their interests and passions in music. They can spend 30 minutes with a few musicians and see if they gel – if not, there is no pressure to continue, but if there is chemistry, bands and quartets are formed. This process is similar to speed dating with the intention of creation. However, in order for us to celebrate this, we need to know it exists.
“In my first year, I told a third-year economics student that I wasn’t interested in investment banking or asset management,” shares Samiya Sriwastawa, president of the Music Business Society. “He responded, ‘Oh, so consulting then?’. I realised that in his mind, those were the only options.”
Samiya finds it challenging to fully express her musical self at LSE. “While there are some events on campus, as someone who enjoys classic rock and rock in general, it’s hard to find spaces where I can truly connect and engage with others on that level. Even if I express it, I don’t think I can engage with it in a meaningful way on campus.”
Music Business Society aims to provide insight into the music industry as a career through running talks with people at the forefront of their industry, including Tony Harlow, CEO of Warner Music UK, and head of music at YouTube Dan Chalmers. Despite the incredible lineup of speakers, the turnout to these events is always lower than expected. It could be said that there just aren’t that many LSE students interested in music, but the hundreds of Music Society members would say otherwise. Perhaps the difference here is the intention behind musical expression: is it a future career path, or a way to let off steam?
The Music Business Society is significantly smaller than the Music Society which focuses upon performances and ensembles, as an example, hence the potential of career choices dividing the music community. Maybe a career that isn’t investment banking, asset management, or consulting really isn’t thought to be found at LSE. Societies like the Music Business Society work to challenge this perception.
There is a sense of comfort in that students and staff are working to support creativity, something which LSE Chill epitomises. This is an event which occurs on the last Friday of every month and, according to the LSE Arts Assistant, is run directly by LSE. She eagerly emphasised how validating it was that LSE ran the open mic directly, instead of smaller societies, as it shows that the institution itself cared for creativity. This reveals the existence of an artistic student community beyond intentional, society-led socials.
Heading to October’s LSE Chill with a few of my friends, we worried that the audience would be small, nervous that the performers would not have people to support them. However, as we descended yet another staircase hidden in the depths of the Garrick, we were happily surprised. People lined the sides of the room, snacking on bowls of crisps and olives; slowly but surely, they started to make their way towards the front rows of chairs. According to the organisers, around 50 people came to watch the performances throughout the evening, ebbing and flowing but consistently showing up.
One by one, singers, songwriters, and comedians took to the stage; some were visibly nervous, while others less so. Everyone in the audience paid rapt attention, whooping and cheering as each performer concluded their act. In fact, I was inclined to approach the performers more than once to congratulate and encourage them to continue developing their craft. It was a safe space: a safe, artistic, creative space. It was something I did not expect to discover on the LSE campus.
LSE Chill was yet another musical gem – but why are such gems hidden? One student interviewed by The Beaver was surprised by the event’s turnout. “I didn’t realise there was a creative community at LSE,” sharing that they had not seen it advertised anywhere, especially compared to other LSE talks. Clearly, despite the existence of events with a non-corporate focus, few students are aware of them, making the goal of creating a cohesive music community on campus incredibly hard to achieve.
While it may be harder to find fellow musicians than a group of future investment bankers at LSE, it is certainly not impossible. Samiya’s advice for music-minded students is to “ just [talk] to everyone about it. The people who share that passion will naturally gravitate toward it [events and socials].”
And if you are looking for some actions of encouragement instead of words, Akhmet briefly mentioned his future desire to connect musicians across London Universities through UoL music group chats, connecting with other music societies in order to nurture collaboration.
With so many different genres of music, what defines a ‘music community’ for one person might not resonate with someone else. While there’s a strong support for chamber music and string quartets at LSE, genres like RnB or soul continue to feel more niche, and quite exclusive on campus. However, with 13,000 students at LSE, a vibrant, if understated, community awaits. Despite the appearance at first glance, creativity and music does exist on campus. For those who intentionally search for it, the music scene at LSE offers a unique and multifaceted experience, ready to be discovered. Once you do, share it.
