The NAMM Show: Counting Beans, or Selling Dreams?

The last time I attended the NAMM show was in January 2017, a month that is somehow - incomprehensibly - 7 years ago. In some ways, those were happier times; I had a full head of lustrous hair (OK, I’m exaggerating, but I hadn’t entirely given up on going to the barber), a youthful devil-may-care attitude, and the na?veté to think that I could change the world. “Corona” was just a drink that the American waiters offered with or without fruit (the response “no thanks, I’m fruity enough already” being met with a blank stare).?

Yes, Donald Trump was in the process of being inaugurated (such crowds!), Brexit had been ordained by the Daily Mail, and David Bowie had only recently died, but there was still at least a glimmer of hope in the air. The MI industry had not yet been through enforced lockdown. Rep visits had not yet been replaced by glitchy Zoom calls. Physical “shopping” hadn’t yet become a niche retro pastime for Boomers and streamers.?

Now, 7 years on, here I am: a stooping, gout-riddled shadow of the man I once was, many of the things I once held dear lost to the mists of time, hardened by misfortune and jaded by charlatans, that glint of enthusiasm in my eye perhaps forever extinguished. Or is it…?

The world has changed, it is undeniable. But with Covid lockdowns now an awkward, blurry memory, a new business venture underway, and a secret plan afoot, the prospect of flying out to LA for the NAMM show seemed worth considering. What’s the worst that could happen? A marginally slimmer bank account and some winter sunburn didn’t really seem all that bad. But what was the best that could happen? Well… I wasn’t quite sure, but I was willing to find out.?

We duly booked the flights, found hotels, and started calling round our UK suppliers to organise meetings. Because that’s what you do, right? Fly halfway round the world to meet people you see all the time back in the UK (or at least on those glitchy Zoom calls). It makes no sense, but somehow it works.?

But that’s where I discovered things had changed since my last NAMM trip. As I called around our top suppliers - the household names of our industry, the titans, the ones that used to have stands that would take up a whole hall, with luscious carpets and quiet, air-conditioned meeting rooms stocked with fresh coffee and artisan pretzels - I got a bit of a shock.?

None of them were coming.?

They were either not exhibiting at all or, if they were, no-one from the UK was going to be there. Comments like “wow, things must be really tough if you’re not even exhibiting at NAMM” were met with haughty derision, as if the NAMM show is just for the little guys, like the seniors at school turning their nose up at the playground.?

The thing is, it may not be perfect, but the NAMM show appears to be all we’ve got currently, so major brands not turning up is like Mum and Dad not turning up for Christmas. It’s just weird and a bit disappointing. Do they not love us?

Granted, the costs are no doubt eye-watering (a small booth holder told me they’d been asked to pay $3,000 just for wifi access), but big companies are called “big” for a reason. They’ve got lots of money, they just need to decide how to spend it.?

I can also imagine that something as transient and whose effect is as difficult to measure as the NAMM show is not popular with the bean counters. Certainly there are very few beans to be seen, if any.?

But we don’t sell beans, dammit, we sell dreams!

The problem is that fewer exhibitors means fewer buyers, and fewer buyers ultimately means fewer exhibitors. There is a very real chance of NAMM entering some sort of death spiral, an unthinkable tragedy, especially for those who are currently sitting on a plane, as I happen to be while writing this sentence. So let’s stop talking about death spirals, and let’s get positive about this thing.

What is NAMM for??

On one level, it’s about seeing new products. But in many ways you can see new products online, and as every brand wants to steal a march on every other brand by releasing their products earlier, it’s reached a point where most of the new products have been released, shipped, and are already being heavily discounted by the time the show starts.

Is it about having meetings? As previously mentioned, it does seem a little eccentric - not to mention environmentally irresponsible - to travel across the world to have a meeting when it is perfectly easy to fire up Google Meet and speak to anyone in the known universe. Yes, a remote meeting won’t be serenaded by seven separate guitarists playing eight entirely incompatible styles of music, while someone else tests a modular synth to see how irritating they can make it sound, but perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Is it about the cosy music biz “fireside chats” hosted by people with nicknames on their badges like “Slam” and “Flip”? Is it about the live music performances that sound oddly like they’ve been generated by AI, despite the fact you can actually smell the musicians? Is it about the $14 (plus tip, plus tax) bottles of warm beer?

Wait... I was trying to be positive, and I’m not really selling it, am I? But let me be clear: I actually love the NAMM show. While the show itself could be improved on many levels, I think it is an essential part of the MI calendar, not because of the products or the scheduled meetings or the various forms of entertainment on offer, but because of the people.?

Especially post-pandemic, the NAMM show represents an opportunity to remind ourselves why we do this thing. It’s about throwing the global MI industry into a big pot, stirring it about, and seeing what it smells like (OK, that doesn’t sound hugely appealing, but hopefully you catch my drift). It’s the industry’s water cooler moment. It’s a time to gather and to reflect and to plan.

Everyone has come to the show with the intention to do business. Everyone is looking to make stuff happen. Everyone is looking to get excited again about the myriad wonders of music and sound, an excitement that can all too easily get lost in the drudgery of day-to-day admin.

Trade shows are not so much about the events or the products or the pre-arranged meetings, but about serendipity; the 11pm jetlagged chats in the Marriott Bar are as important as the show itself. It is our Christmas, the time when the industry family gets together, for better or for worse, and looks resolutely towards the year ahead with a steely gaze.?

Of course, I speak from the privileged position of not spending $1,000,000 on a stand, but I would hope that those that could spend that kind of money might be able to see that this is the beating heart of our industry, and that supporting it is a moral imperative.

On the other hand, the organisers of the show also need to make sure they’re not resting on their laurels (do they have any laurels left to rest on?). For example, couldn’t they use some of those $1,000,000 cheques to book some really big names from the music world? I don’t mean obscure guitarists who are mostly known for endorsing anything that moves, I mean the BIG household-name artists. Surely the NAMM show is a cool thing to be seen to be supporting for these kinds of people? I’m as huge a fan of Stevie Wonder as the next person, but surely he can’t be the only living legend who’d like to wander the aisles. Much as I love him, I’d quite like to show off about having been in the presence of someone else for once.?

The show needs to be more a celebration of music itself, a triumphant showcase for all this amazing gear we make and sell, and something for every single one of us working in this industry to be proud of. Seeing Kenny’s Music’s favourite up-and-coming punk bluegrass pioneers the Watertower Band in the Marriott Bar on the Friday evening was a pretty special moment for us, but there need to be many more moments like these.?

From our perspective at Kenny’s Music, despite my initial reservations once I discovered the lack of big name exhibitors, the show was a triumph. Aside from getting hands-on with loads of amazing new music gear, we discovered something that will be transformative for our business in the months and years to come, and that simply wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t been there. We reconnected with old friends and made new ones. And we ingested sufficient cholesterol-laden breakfasts and over-priced beers to drastically widen our already extensive range of medical conditions.?

But dammit, it was worth it. Maybe we really can change the world, but we can’t do it alone.