Sunday Times
Wyatting

You‘d expect to have more chance of winning the Lottery than hearing Brian Eno at a boozer like The Northern Tavern. So, as Eno’s Ambient I album begins to pour glacial micro variations from the jukebox it’s no surprise conversations seem a little edgier while solo drinkers stare more thoughtfully into their pints. Ladies and gentleman, there’s a Wyatt going on.

The freedom to add ambient to the ambience comes from the jukebox getting acquainted with the internet. When Rockola unveiled their first jukebox in 1934 it boasted 12 songs - on 78s. Smaller 45s pushed the choice past 100, while CD-jukeboxes took choice into four figures. All this time, however, jukeboxes were overwhelmingly filled by current hits plus vintage classics. Want a pub offering the 13th Floor Elevators rather than elevator music? Happy searching.

Cue the ’THE Music Jukebox‘ - or, simpler perhaps, the 2M machine. Over 1600 of these shiny metal boxes now sit in bars across the UK, offering a few thousand pre-loaded tracks plus, more importantly, the option to download two million more. Add the ability to ensure your selections play first for a 50p premium, and you have the framework for the new bar phenomenon dubbed Wyatting.

US writer Wendy McClure was among the first to highlight it, describing her experience of sitting in a grungy New York rock bar where someone had plucked Brian Eno's hour-long piano piece Thursday Afternoon from the internet jukebox, to the serious bemusement and irritation of the metalheads.

When UK music critic Simon Reynolds linked to McClure’s piece on his web log, British pub goers suddenly popped up to confess they had already begun to play this particular game. The Wyatting nickname stuck after one of Reynold’s correspondents described his penchant for using Dondestan, the 1991 jazz-rock album by ex-Soft Machine star Robert Wyatt, as a favourite backdrop to a busy night down the local.

Other favourites have appeared, such as avant-garde jazz blower Evan Parker or Japanese noise producer Merzbow (think nails down a blackboard only worse). New suggestions crop up in online forums. “We get down early to get a good five hours worth of Dark Magus and On the Corner or the complete works of The Mahavishnu Orchestra on, nicely topped off with a bit of Neubauten or Coil“ says one typical post. Another boasts of “three solid hours of Diamanda Galas last Friday down the Wifebeater's Arms in Castleford”.

Some claim Wyatting as a serious act - the musical equivalent to political sloganeering (“Down With Cloth Ears!”), perhaps, or a social experiment to see how well people can maintain their gossiping and chatting up rituals to a soundtrack from hell. Others see it as payback for years of having to drink to a backdrop of manufactured pop pap or the same tired canon of golden oldies.

Opponents just see Wyatting as a snobbish, irritating prank. Even the opposition, though, make a distinction between novel drinking soundtracks and audio-bullying. “There's a massive difference between playing Brian Eno and sticking on Merzbow,” says one recent blog. “That’s a deliberately confrontational act, designed entirely to irritate those around you. Infantile, really.”

Wyatt himself has mixed feelings. “I’m honoured at becoming a verb," he says, but admits to being less sure about Wyatting’s use as an irritant. “I don't really like disconcerting people.”

How about Inspired Broadcast Networks, creators of the THE Jukebox? “People love the diversity the machine can offer, “ argues Norman Crowley, the company’s joint CEO. “And bars can specifically exclude tracks.” But Anne de Kerckhove, Inspired's chief operating officer, believes exclusion would be unwise. "The minute we say, 'You can't play that,' then people want to play that. We're all a bit contrarian."

Choice can have unexpected effects, though. Half a mile from the Northern Tavern, The Railway Hotel has done away with its THE machine. The landlord shakes his head when I ask if his customers hadn’t appreciated the key to a new musical universe. “The idea sounds great but people just didn’t know what to choose.“ Have years of mainstream play lists so befuddled people they can’t actually make independent musical choices anymore?

Back in The Northern Tavern, my neighbour at the bar has ears only for one artist - “Elvis Aaron Presley - the most beautiful human who‘s ever lived,” Sarah confides in a drunken whisper. I’ve promised her The King - but not until Eno has given way to a slice of Evan Parker.. Through her alcohol haze she frowns as avant-jazz squeaks and skirls hang in the air. “Is this Elvis?“ she says dubiously. “In a minute,” I say reassuringly.

Finally, Evan’s puff gives out and as the opening chords of The Wonder Of You belt out it’s as if a coiled spring has been released. Sarah comes to life as she begins to sing along while a nearby old-timer beams and swings his pint in time to The King. OK, they’re happier now - but unharmed, too, by having had a taste of something different.