Seeing live music has been a huge part of my life for over 40 years now, and it’s something that still thrills me. Earlier today I managed to secure tickets to see Richard Thompson (I’ve seen him before of course, many times), one of four gigs I’m already looking forward to in 2026 (the others being Beth Orton, The Long Ryders, and Squeeze with support from the great Billy Bragg). There will be plenty of others to come, I’m sure, including lots of local grassroots acts at Boscombe’s fabulous Chaplin’s and the Cellar Bar, as well as other Bournemouth venues.

The economy of the music industry had changed a lot. When I first got into music, record sales (this was before even the introduction of CDs - remember them?) was an artist’s main source of revenue. Tours were often seen as loss-leaders that promoted the sales of albums. Now, with the advent of streaming and the resulting drying-up of royalty revenue, albums are the loss leaders and live is where an artist earns their living. That’s given rise to the phenomenon of dynamic pricing, which caused so much furore when Oasis made their inevitable and long-anticipated reunion last year, to huge acclaim from fans and bank managers alike.

Putting aside the pricing, even the nature of buying tickets has changed. Email lists and social media mean it’s easier to be aware when a favourite artist is announcing new dates. I can remember scouring ads in the newspapers for news of gigs, or getting gig sheets from venues listing their forthcoming shows. Back in the mid-80s I ignored numerous chances to see a then-unknown Guns N’ Roses playing at London’s legendary Marquee Club. Although that would have been a great gig to namecheck now, I can't honestly say that I regret not going.

Even if you managed to hear about a gig, just buying the tickets was very different. This morning, I sat and waited until the 10am starting pistol, logged onto the website and had my tickets (front row, no less) secured within minutes. By contrast, I can remember as a teenager getting up early – 4am or thereabouts – on a Saturday morning to catch the first train up to London with friends and queue outside Hammersmith Odeon in the hope of getting a ticket to see Marillion. We got the tickets, but then the day before the gig, it was cancelled. Lead vocalist Fish had lost his voice. The band had also been booked to appear on Top of the Pops that night, and they fulfilled that appearance, with Fish famously miming along to a flip chart containing all the lyrics.

The gig was rearranged, of course, but by the time it came around it was something like six months after we had bought the tickets. Somehow in all that time, the anticipation had dipped – we weren’t used to that length of lead time between buying tickets and the gig taking place, and the idea of seeing Marillion became part of our mental furniture (the gig itself, was great though, and wasn't spoiled by our faded anticipation). By contrast, three of my four 2026 gigs are happening between September and December, nearly a full year away. Somewhere along the line, promoters realised that having our ticket money so far in advance means it can earn interest for them rather than us, or am I just getting cynical in my old age?

Another major change is that back in the day, we actually had physical, printed tickets, whereas now etickets have become the norm. I don’t have a problem with that, particular when the environmental effect is factored in, but I still miss having a proper ticket. I have a collection of just about all my old ticket stubs, which I can peruse at my leisure and remember great gigs gone by. The photo accompanying this article represents a selection from that haul of memories, and it does sadden me that in years to come, I won’t have a similar aide memoire for my more recent excursions onto the live scene.