In a series of seven posts authors from London – this month celebrating the coming together under one roof of six TBWA companies – will share their thoughts on successful brand behavior, highlighting topics like upcoming brands, the impact of digital, music, the future of PR and new trends in retail. Enjoy some some inspirational thoughts and join in the Media Arts discussion. Todays post by Dom Caisley, Managing Partner STREAM\ Music.

“Is London still the centre of music?” someone asked me today. “Yes, yes it is. Let me tell you why. This is a true story, it happened to me last week.”

My two employees (Dave and Tom) and I hadn’t been out together for a while and work had been particularly busy so we thought we’d have a night out, see some bands (we are the music team at TBWA\London) , look up some old contacts and go visit some of the new venues springing up all over town.

A few calls here and a couple of emails there and we had a rammed packed Tuesday afternoon/evening, with barely time on the schedule to squeeze a drink or two in-between acts (we managed). And that’s the thing about London. Walk down a street and you’ll quickly come across a music venue, a pub with a back room, a wine bar, a converted church, nightclub etc. with the whump of a bass drum, the cheers of the crowd, the smash of a cymbal or the reverberations from the bass creeping past the bouncers into the night air.

As our evening will demonstrate, if you want to listen to live music there isn’t a town like it anywhere in the world. We start at the Marina & The Diamonds showcase on the Atlantic building roof gardens in Kensington at 2pm. It’s a showcase just for music retailers, press, ad agencies and other music licensing teams (TV, film, computer games etc.) We locate the kitchen door ready for the hot nibbles to come out and grab several long stemmed champagne glasses filled with the finest sparkling wine a supermarket can supply.  The band’s good, if a little distracted, but more importantly we’ve tapped up the artist liason guy for three names on The Specials guestlist at Brixton Academy later on.

Now, however, we are hot-footing it over to Shoreditch for the Shoreditch festival (80 bands, 25 venues, one night, one square mile). On the way, we call in at the Hoxton Bar & Kitchen where EX-Lovers are playing an afternoon set for press before their evening gig. Hoxton, Dalston and Shoreditch are the places to be at the moment, with virtually every other door a music venue and tonight, every one of them will be rammed full of checked-shirted-fop-haired-skinny jeaned kids going mad for the latest sound. I’ll leave the skinny jeans to the kids but there is nothing better for finding the next big thing than to follow them about town. These guys can sniff out the next style, future star, the new sound from a mile away and all you have to do is walk into Spitalfields market and follow the crowds to be part of it.

It’s now 6pm and we’ve already graced the Queen of Hoxton pub, the Legionnaire, and Rough Trade East record store , double pinting cider in each, a handshake with the band’s product manager and a nod to the ad agency competition and we’re on the move again. We’re walking down Brick Lane and immediately there’s a little crowd  gathered with one man rock and roll band John Henry Matthews giving it on the slide guitar and kicking his bass drum pedal like Rooney in the 89th minute. This isn’t just a busker though, Little Si Brewis over at Sony signed this guy two months ago. He’s booked as the support on the Kings of Leon tour and has his first album coming out next month yet here he is dancing for money. A hundred yards down and there’s another band playing Sandy Denny’s “Who Knows Where The Time Goes” but this time there’s a lady in the audience belting out the words like Nina Simone’s version. She’s got one shoe on, carrying five Tesco’s bags and the voice of a soul diva.

We can’t stop, Of Montreal are starting at the Vibe Bar in 5 minutes and we need to get in the door before the rush starts. That’s the problem with the British summer, the first whiff of sun and everyone’s got their tops off and lying on any scrap of grass they can find.

It’s 7.30pm and we have still got Madame Jo Jo’s in Soho, and the 100 Club on Oxford Street to fit in before The Specials come on stage at Brixton academy () . There’s a rumour text going round that Brakes are playing  the Pearl Jam aftershow party at the O2’s nightclub Matter but that means a boat ride across the Thames and the boys want to go to Boogaloo club in Highgate to see if Shane McGowan and Pete Doherty are gonna jam again later on. Apparently everyone was up on the stage singing ‘Dirty Old Town’ at 6am last time so who am I to argue.

Blinding set by The Big Pink at Madame Jo Jo’s and then we argue over the best band to ever play the 100 Club whilst listening to Hockey. My vote’s on Elvis (but the picture on the wall looks like it was taken in the States and I’m pretty sure he never played England) but Dave goes with Prince and Tom the purist’s gone with Neil Young. We’ve got no time to argue and we’re in a black cab on the way to Brixton.

The Brixton Academy, where I spent a large percentage of my youth and pocket money, is rammed. I have never seen it this busy (and that includes The Pogues, Arctic Monkeys and Motorhead) but we chivvy our way down to the front (right hand side of the stage, next to the girls toilets is always the best area as all the men are on the left by the mens!). The lights dim, the DJ takes The Clash off the decks and puts the opening strains of Wagner on, an eruption of noise, a frenzied surge forward proclaim The Specials coming onstage. They open with ‘Nite Club’ and it rains beer for a full 30 seconds. I lose track of time and a connection to the floor as the maul of sweaty fat skinheads waltzes me around the mosh pit. I lose the boys, but at the pre-arranged time and place outside I can see their Cheshire Cat grins from across the street.  Check it out for yourself…

Black cab again as we’re fighting to get to the Roundhouse, Camden in time for the end of David Byrne’s set and then Koko for the club night where Mark Ronson is Djing Koko . In between however we stop at The Good Mixer pub where Brit Pop was born and signed its record deals and Dave blags wristbands for The Social just in case we survive Boogaloo.

Eventually at 5am I’m in bed and the familiar 12 inch mix of monotone is ringing in my ears and I’m dropping off to dream of playing bass with anyone that will have me.

“That’s why London is still the centre of music,” I said. “A simple yes would have sufficed!” was his reply.