Let me in: Dublin’s not an easy place to be a gig-goer with a disability

Four years ago, I started writing about access provided for disabled people in Ireland, putting a big focus on music venues. That’s also when I started using a wheelchair full-time and noticed that access wasn’t something that many people thought about or noticed.

Every year, the Hard Working Class Heroes festival shines a light on some of Ireland's most exciting bands, but it also highlights the lack of accessible music venues in Dublin.

Of seven listed venues this year, only three were properly accessible. These are some of Dublin’s best music venues, and every year it’s the same story for me. Only a handful of these venues will let me in.

I’ve accepted that I have to be carried up a flight of stairs if I want to see a local band play Upstairs in Whelan’s. I’ve accepted that there’s one flight of stairs too many in the Opium Room, so I gave the unruly hip-hop act Run the Jewels a miss. I’ve accepted that as a paying customer, I will have to rely on bouncers to carry me in and out of District 8 if I want to see Icelandic DJs Kiasmos play in November.

I’ve accepted that arguing with bouncers and security over whether or not I’m a fire hazard is normal. It’s not illegal for me to be carried by my friends up or down a flight of stairs, but this is a conversation I have regularly and I’m exhausted.

Facilities provided for disabled gig-goers vary across the city. Unsurprisingly, the best are found at the 3Arena. With lifts to every floor, the option of a free ticket for a carer or a personal assistant, an allocated seating area that also has a good view, hawk-eyed staff ready to lend a hand, and the accessible red Luas line going to the front door, you are looked after from the moment you arrive. On average, tickets for a show in the venue cost €50, but if you’re into up-and-coming, local or obscure bands, you won’t find them there.

Review website

A website, Is This Venue Accessible? ( itvaccessible.com) reviews music venues worldwide. Seán Gray, the man behind it, has cerebral palsy and uses a walker, but he also plays in a punk band, Birth Defect, in Washington DC.

Most punk and metal gigs Gray goes to happen in dingy basements, and he knows that it isn’t realistic to make every music venue accessible. Instead he wants promoters and venues to provide more information online, even if it reveals their flaws.

A lack of information online can cost you customers. I had stopped going to gigs in Hangar because it never had an accessible bathroom, so I was surprised to learn that it had added one, to no fanfare. If a venue can brag about its access facilities, it should go to town on it.

The Button Factory’s site doesn’t boast that the venue is all on flat ground and that it has an accessible bathroom; and Whelan’s could do with promoting its excellent staff and the fact that you can access the main venue through the front bar. The Academy is practically perfect, but from its website you would never know.

Even if venues aren’t accessible, they should let us know and stop making it a guessing game. The Grand Social’s site lists what PA systems, lighting and DJ equipment it can provide but it never mentions that the music venue is upstairs and there is no lift.

That said, the bar staff there are incredibly accommodating and they’ve often given me a queen’s chair upstairs so I can catch the likes of Sleep Thieves and Overhead, The Albatross (who have carried me up to some of their gigs, actually), but you can’t always rely on that.

In Dublin and across the country, many music venues are protected buildings, so they can’t change the infrastructure to make it accessible. The Olympia is one example; it’s not possible to put in lifts to every floor, but with the help of manager Jimmy Grant and assistance through the accessible side entrance, you can get a front-row view or use the elevated platform at the back for a gig. This is all clearly outlined on the website, proving that the venue has thought about us and has worked out a way for us to get the full experience of a live show.

Visibility is important for disabled people. A lot of the time, the hassle of getting in somewhere isn’t worth it and it can be easier to stay at home.

As a disabled musician, Gray feels the same. “When my band play an inaccessible venue, it’s sort of me saying, you know, politically like, ‘Here I am. I had to go down all these stairs and put my body at risk to be here and I’m still gonna do it’. Not because it’s an inspirational thing. I don’t give a fuck about inspiration; I don’t care. What I really care about is presence and being there and being seen,” he says.

Frustrating

Years go by and very little changes. It’s frustrating when you see the totally accessible Tripod and Crawdaddy complex rot away on Harcourt Street, or when you see venues pumping huge amounts of money into ever-expanding smoking areas instead of putting in an accessible bathroom.

What’s more annoying is that this conversation never ends and it feels like no one is really listening. Building regulations are tricky to navigate and there’s no point in boycotting inaccessible venues, but musicians, promoters and DJs can take action. If they want to make access a priority, as the DIY events have proved, they don’t always have to use traditional venues. I can bang on and on about this, but they’re the only ones who can shut me up.