Bristol Music: Seven Decades of Sound, M Shed, Bristol

We have all been there. That gig you have been looking forward to for months happened last night, and now you’re paying for it in the morning. You had one too many, but as the hangover starts to fade, those brilliant memories of an outstanding performance infiltrate your mind. That’s the feeling you get at M Shed’s latest exhibition (until 30 September), Bristol Music: Seven Decades of Sound – minus the hangover, of course.

The first thing that caught my eye, and formed much of my lasting impression, of Bristol Music is the “caraoke” – karaoke in a car. Visitors get into a car that is spray-painted to look like something that wouldn’t be out of place in a David Bowie music video. Once inside, you can sing along to an assortment of classic tunes to your heart’s content. The best part? If you have the door closed, no one can hear you embarrass yourself.

I am a big believer that getting hands-on with a subject is the best way to learn about it, so singing along to Bristol tunes like I was in the shower was an excellent way to grasp the sheer breadth and variety of music that has emerged from the city, and how it has helped shape the UK music scene.

Bristol Music has tons of similar fun touches scattered across the gallery space, which has been transformed to look like scenes familiar to anyone who has been on a night out at the pub and decided to visit one of those dodgy music venues round the corner.

In which other exhibition would you find the glamorous combination of a recording studio, venue dressing room and nightclub toilet (complete with graffiti informing you of more gossip than an EastEnders episode) coexisting so harmoniously?

Plywood and other cheap materials have been used to create a strong design that helps capture the sense of excitement you feel when going to a gig. There’s a definite DIY feel to the spaces, but it’s that haphazard approach that brings the exhibition together. The Bristol music scene has a homemade, independent feel and this is very much reflected in the exhibition design.

The aim of the show is to break down the past 70 years of music that was made and developed in the area, showcasing the wealth of creative talent from Bristol, as well as those the city has played host to.

It is certainly in keeping with M Shed’s mantra of being a museum that tells the stories of Bristolians. And it was that idea that fed the development of this exhibition from the initial concept, with a huge amount of the material on display crowdsourced from the local community.

The exhibition is described as an “open book authored by the people of the city”, and it is clear that community engagement must have been a key factor, with comments, questions and statements from people across Bristol visible everywhere you look. People have contributed records, interviews and memorabilia, and have even added tracks to the official Bristol Music playlist on the online music service Spotify.

An excellent balance has been struck between the content and the music. As you explore the different spaces in the gallery, you hear a variety of music from a curated soundtrack that is never intrusive and never outstays its welcome. Fitting the theme of the show, the songs are a mix of the familiar and the obscure. The music is also played at a manageable volume so it literally becomes background music.

It was particularly pleasing to see the contribution of Bristol’s black population, who have been heavily involved in the music scene for decades. It was also timely to read about St Paul’s Carnival – Bristol’s celebration of the Caribbean community – in its 50th anniversary year.

With the carnival being born out of the frustrations of the city’s Caribbean community, this story could be an exhibition in itself, as what brought people together was their music. This section is placed in a side room towards the back. However, there is a more in-depth look at St Paul’s Carnival elsewhere at M Shed, in the You Make Bristol What It Is section, in a display titled One Vibration: Voices of St Pauls Carnival.

I also felt that more could be made of the importance of music from the black community in the transformation of the music scene across the UK.

Interactives litter the gallery, ensuring that visitors of all ages and backgrounds never get bored. Apart from the caraoke, there is a set of DJ decks and enough dressing-up to make you look like a 1980s lycra nightmare.

Perhaps the most obvious feature that is lacking are musical instruments to be played, though I can imagine the task of ensuring they don’t get destroyed would be more trouble than it’s worth.

The exhibition is not interactive all the time; there is also a chillout zone with comfy bean bags in case anyone gets overwhelmed by all the neon and fluorescent lighting.

The most interesting aspect of Bristol Music is that it isn’t an exhibition advertising Bristol as the destination for new and exciting music, it’s one that displays the memorabilia of thousands of nights out. It is the memories associated with the music that are the key to this show: the sweat felt on the back of your neck when you’ve been headbanging too hard, the ringing in your ears after a concert and, for some people, the moment when you wake up in your bed after a night out and have no idea how you made it home.

It’s all so human and relatable. And caraoke – what else do you need?