Unlock the Editor’s Digest for free
Roula Khalaf, Editor of the FT, selects her favourite stories in this weekly newsletter.
Somebody has been playing Balkan heavy metal in the café. The culprit’s identity remains a mystery, but let’s just say that our 6ft 2in Bosnian barista seems sheepish.
Almost everybody in hospitality has their own soundtrack. Some people even make their own playlists, with names like “Morning Bops” or “Work Work Work”, but neither these optimists nor their playlists ever seem to last. Even the most transporting music can be outmuscled by the sight of yet another poached egg burst on the hardwood floor.
A few days after the heavy-metal fiasco, my boss’s boss visited one of our sister sites and heard Taylor Swift playing. A company-wide email soon followed. There would be no more heavy metal and no more Taylor Swift. We were permitted only to play “cool” music: Tame Impala, Father John Misty, Bill Withers.
It was all a bit condescending, such directives dished out from somebody at least 10 years and two tax brackets removed from the concept of cool. But even my anti-authority ass had to concede they had a point. The key to curating a brand isn’t authenticity, but suggestivity. From the music to the coffee to the decor: no single element has to be entirely accurate, but they should at least be close enough to give an impression.
There was only one thing for it. It was time to hit the high street. In Costa Coffee, they are playing “Girls Don’t Go” by the almost unknown Christophe Casanave. This, I decide, is Costa Coffee in a nutshell: ubiquitous, forgettable and inoffensive.
In Caffè Nero, plinky-plonk jazz music trickles meekly down from the ceiling. It sounds like a mobile phone ringtone at the other end of a ventilation shaft, but even at this low volume, there is a vague sense of continental authenticity. For just £3.40, I am rewarded with a small Americano and a moment of subconscious escape. Toto, I have a feeling we’re not in Manchester any more. Now be an amico and pass the ashtray, this cigarillo isn’t going to smoke itself.
My final destination is Starbucks, where Taylor Swift is playing. And playing. After a fourth consecutive track, I decide to bother the poor woman behind the till. She explains that staff are allowed to choose between a selection of playlists. And yes, this one is wall-to-wall Taylor Swift. Of course it is. Taylor Swift has a documentary called Miss Americana, and her boyfriend won the Super Bowl. This isn’t just ambience, it’s theatre: an uber-American singer for an uber-American brand.
This, I suppose, is my boss’s rationale. We need to think about the bigger picture. Our coffee shop is not part of a big chain, and so it cannot be heard to play Taylor Swift. But neither is it legitimately countercultural, and so it cannot be heard to play heavy metal. Just as Caffè Nero suggests all things almost-but-not-quite Italian, the independent coffee shop must suggest all things almost-but-not-quite subversive. Tame Impala has been covered by Rihanna, after all.
Which is why I smiled at 7 o’clock the other morning when I reached for the communal iPod touch, fired up Spotify and saw it, right there under “recently played”: a playlist called “Balkan Bangers”. Oh my Bosnian newbie, I hope you don’t change for the world.
RM Clark is a barista in Manchester and the author of “Winner Stays On”, published by Pitch Publishing
Follow @FTMag to find out about our latest stories first and subscribe to our podcast Life and Art wherever you listen
