Sawmill pub surviving against the odds
Live performance venues are in decline, but not in Leigh, reports Glenn McConnell.
Leigh’s a mission, that’s for sure. It’s the type of place where you’re just as likely to see a kereru¯ flying down the middle of the road, as you are a car driving.
The place is generally quiet, tranquil and otherwise relaxed, assuming there are no gigs on that night.
But if there are, then on a clear night, when the wind has settled and clouds cleared, a beating thud can be heard across the town. The thud will carry on until about 1am, and if the soundies stuff up, then the treble will start setting off decibel readers.
That’s life in Leigh, a small town built around fish and music. The two big spots are the fish factory and Leigh Sawmill. The first is a real factory, the second has been turned into a bar which can comfortably fit half of the town population inside.
Sitting 80km north of Auckland, this coastal community is a hideaway of sorts, where city dwellers escape. It’s just out of reach of Auckland City, even though the town is technically part of that Super City council. Public transport extends to just out of Leigh, to Matakana, a boutique wine village. Leigh, however, is three buses and an overpriced shuttle away from Auckland.
The town, if you can call it that, is home to about 400 people. The Sawmill can take about 250 of them in its concert hall.
Down in the township itself, there’s a computer-controlled petrol station, a real estate agent and a few snorkelling shops. Its dairy doubles as a post office and video store. The fish and chip shop serves takeaways as well as coffee and cake.
That fish and cake store is called, simply, ‘‘Leigh Food’’.
This is a town where everyone has their fingers in a few pies. It’s the only way to keep businesses afloat, says the manager of the Sawmill Cafe.
The Sawmill has played host to major New Zealand musical acts and comedians, as well as small, otherwise unheard-of bands. Local legends such as The Chills, Cornerstone Roots and Shihad are no strangers to the pub.
With their obvious popularity, those bands can easily sell out the venue. But it’s not just the heavy hitters who can pull in the crowds, says manager Susan Travan. A simple covers band, charging $20 a head, can sell out the Sawmill too. That is, she says, only if they can charm the locals.
One of the Sawmill’s most regular and popular performers, a Fleetwood Mac covers band, has sold out all of its last five shows.
‘‘But it is amazing, and everyone sings along,’’ she says. ‘‘Those are the gigs I love most, the ones which resonate with people.’’
It’s that no-judgment, anythinggoes attitude that she credits with keeping the Sawmill going as a cafe for the past 22 years.
It’s the sort of place where you can walk in wearing jandals and shorts, and the alt-music lover in a khaki suit won’t bat an eyelid. As long as you can make it to Leigh – which is no easy feat in itself – then Travan says you’re welcome at the pub.
Over time, the Sawmill has become a destination venue for alternative musicians on their New Zealand tours. Invercargill mayor Tim Shadbolt and broadcaster Gary McCormick also visit the joint, performing a comedy routine.
The Sawmill’s very existence is nothing short of remarkable, when you consider live music venues appear to be in decline.
Travan says it’s one of the last great live venues. Its nearest cousin, Auckland’s Kings Arms Tavern, has been bulldozed.
‘‘Music venues are a dying breed, unfortunately. There are a few of them left, though,’’ she says.
Of the Kings Arms’ demise, she doesn’t have much to say other than, ‘‘It’s just stink.’’
In its last few years, the old venue battled with neighbours over noise complaints before being sold off to become apartments. ‘‘When you’re going to bloody move next to a live music venue, what do you expect?’’ she asks.
Although the Sawmill isn’t at risk of being turned into apartments, it does face similar issues. As Auckland sprawls, what will the neighbours think? And, how will the cost of touring impact its future? It’s hard to compete against world
‘‘They’re just really nice to you, and they give you pizza.’’ Elizabeth Stokes
dominating, multimillion-dollar artists and rich property owners.
The Kings Arms operated with the same philosophy as the Sawmill. Its staff used to talk about a ‘‘working pub’’, where gumboots and jandals were as welcome as suede loafers. The music, as well, was just as diverse. From heavy rock to altpop, as long as it has a decent chance of pulling in a crowd, the bands are welcome.
In Leigh, Travan is responsible for booking the musicians. She’s been working at the Sawmill for 16 years, after the Guinness family bought the ageing sawmill and transformed it into a cafe.
It’s an unusual venue, with a piano-topped stage sitting in the centre of the room. Behind it, a raised dining floor with wooden barricades watches over the band. The barricades haven’t stopped a few fans from making stage entrances, Travan says.
Over time, the bar has had to make a few adjustments. There used to be hanging chandeliers, until a few too many punters swung on them. Now, the lights are fitted with rustic oil barrels.
Former owner John Guinness, who died at the start of March, was a big fan of classical music. The piano – which sits centre-stage even when rock bands are performing – was his ‘‘pride and joy’’, says Travan. She will still bring in classical artists and jazz players, when she can find them.
It’s all about building diversity and catering to as many tastes as possible, Travan says. She reckons that’s how you keep a place like this open.
There are times, she admits, when it looks like the Sawmill’s time may be coming to an end. It’s normally mid-winter, when travellers stay home and the locals try to as well.
‘‘Then, you’ve just go to shift your focus and promote the hell out of it,’’ she says. In the quieter months, the Sawmill will host anything from Leigh’s Got Talent to high school jam nights and the Leigh School kapa haka show.
‘‘The fire station has their annual dinner here, and there’s half price pizza night – that always gets the locals out,’’ she says.
Pizza, it’s always a winner. Bands talk about it often.
Alt-pop band The Beths finished up a stellar year at the Sawmill this December.
Having already completed a successful album launch tour, they decided to add in a few more shows at the end of the year. Their final stop: The Sawmill.
Why did they choose this place, far away from most of their fans, to conclude their year? ‘‘Well,’’ says frontwoman Elizabeth Stokes, ‘‘They’re just really nice to you, and they give you pizza.’’
It’s all about the pizza, and the sun. There aren’t too many venues where you can jet down to the beach, in between sound tests and the gig.
In fact, her bandmate seems to think this interview is dragging on. As Stokes talks about pizza, Christmas, and her band’s listing in Rolling Stone’s top 50 for 2018, the rest of her band is getting restless.
Guitarist Ben Sinclair is waiting to go to the beach. ‘‘Are we going,’’ he asks, ever conscious of the time. ‘‘Oh, is this an interview? I guess, maybe tomorrow,’’ he says, somewhat hopefully. At the time, Metservice was forecasting thunderstorms the following day.
It’s understandable, though. With the summer sun beaming down, a swim would be nice. And as we talk more, Stokes reveals a big reason why the band has decided to play their last show in Leigh. ‘‘Lots of our friends will be here tonight,’’ she says.
‘‘It’s almost like a Christmas party.’’
The venue, by comparison to the town it’s in, is huge. But The Beths’ last gig was in Wellington, to a crowd of 500 – that’s more people than live in Leigh! The Sawmill, then, is a pretty intimate affair.
It’s relaxed. Anyone, if they wanted to, could get on stage. You can take a seat, or join the moshpit. You can even get behind the stage and watch from there. After the warm up act finishes, they jump into the front of the crowd.
Taking a walk around the bar’s courtyard, it’s the same for everyone. A dozen men in shirts and shorts are taking selfies at their jugfilled table. It’s their Christmas catch up, a time to relax, listen to music, and hopefully head to the beach.
Everyone at the Sawmill has the same reasons for being here, when you ask. They come for the sun, and the music. But they stay for friends.
It’s like Travan said earlier: even the most successful musicians won’t do well at the Sawmill if they’re ‘‘f...wits’’. They may sell out one show, but that will be it.