Austin Music Commission's Town Hall Meeting Notes
As we mentioned yesterday, the meeting was held to discuss a proposal put forth by the Austin City Planning Commission that would basically lower the decibel (dB) rating for music venues from the current limit, 85 dB, to anywhere between 70-75 dB, depending on time and location. Because decibels are based on a logarithmic scale (think Richter), the 10 dB change actually represents a much larger difference of 50%. The Austin Music Commission, a separate board of volunteers who act as liaisons between the community and the City Council, hosted the meeting, and were quick to point out that they weren't the ones behind this proposal. They seemed, in fact, staunchly opposed to it.
The meeting started off with a demonstration of how Austin police would normally take a decibel reading if they responded to a noise complaint. Two simulated exercises were performed, first with only the outside patio speakers on, and second with both indoor and outdoor speakers blaring. An APD officer took readings from the back of the patio, meant to represent the average distance to a venue's property line; both simulations yielded sound levels far below the current limit, but Momo's sound system seemed at times barely able to keep up with the level of rock that would adequately replicate an outdoor show.
Mayor Wynn showed up to deliver a quick speech before the public was invited to voice their grievances. He stressed need to support the 8,000+ working musicians in our city—because, as he put it, "cities that are more fun are going to better economically."—while concurrently enabling as many residents to live in or near the urban core as possible. Pointing out the relative minority of actual owner-occupied venues, Wynn ominously predicted that most "won't be around forever," and went so far as to suggest incorporating new music venues into the developments cropping up around town—our friend sarcastically commented that if this was the case, only the likes of Charles Attal would be able to afford to run a venue in town. Wynn finished, to considerable applause, by suggesting that things would be better if downtown condo residents would just "get their asses off the sofa and go listen to live music."
Afterwards, over a dozen community members each took to the stand to present their side of the debate. Many of the proposal's opponents focused their anger on the condo-dwellers relocating into the city; one gentleman hilariously likened it to a NASCAR fan deliberately moving next to a racetrack and then whining about the noise that the cars made. Others pointed out that this noise restriction would be equally violated if applied to other things, like the crowd at a UT football game, the collective roar of Cap Metro buses, or even the giant fans at the back of the downtown Whole Foods.
Supporters of the proposal were few and far between, but a small handful did muster up enough courage to get in front of the microphone, despite feisty heckling from the audience—one fellow, fist pumping vigorously in defiance, was heard shouting "Rock and Roll! Rock and Roll will never die!" Both of the supporters we managed to hear were longtime residents of South Congress; one woman, who's lived in her current house since 1991, wanted the outdoor live music in her neighborhood banned altogether, and it was clear that even a 50% reduction in sound would do little to assuage her. Another, who lived directly in back of Botticelli's, simply wanted to reach a more reasonable compromise on late-night music performances at the restaurant's back area. As far as we could tell, no downtown residents showed up to voice any complaints, which reinforced our suspicion that these much-harangued condo dwellers aren't the ones causing such a fuss.
At least not yet.
Towards the end of the meeting we ran into Austin Music Foundation Executive Director Suzanne Quinn, who hinted that the City Planning Commission may now be reconsidering the structure of the noise proposal, which, in its current form, takes an absurd slash-and-burn approach to solving a problem that only exists in small pockets of town—and none of them in downtown itself. A City Council-appointed task force could likely soon emerge to further investigate the issue in a much broader scope, and hopefully separate it into its two actual (and divergent) components. The easier one is the very real, but solvable, problem of live music bleeding out into residential neighborhoods like South Austin.
Then there's the other, more complicated concern—downtown growth encroaching upon existing venues, which is itself merely a subset of the whole urban development dramedy that we keep coming back to.
In this case, venue owners and musicians are right to suspect that they're getting screwed—because they totally are. And until the city can fix the fragmented nature of the so-called "Entertainment District" (special areas, like the Warehouse District, East Sixth Street, and Red River can be granted certain exemptions from the noise ordinance, but only if they're officially acknowledged as being part of the nebulous ED) and until the venue owners finally rally and establish some sort of functional political action committee, we'll see this problem continue to resurface every few years.
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