About rock on Kelvingrove bandstand

The picture below was taken by me in April 2012. I often used to walk along the River Kelvin pathway in Glasgow and pass the old Kelvingrove bandstand which, as you can see, was in a serious state of disrepair. People used to reminisce about the days when it staged open-air concerts.

There was talk of a restoration project but it all seemed like a lot of hot air. Far easier to demolish it or wait till it became the ‘victim’ of fire?

But hats off to everyone. The bandstand has been beautifully renovated and has staged concerts by Tom Jones, Primal Scream, Echo and the Bunnymen, Steve Earle, and a host of others. Van Morrison is due there soon; there was even an outdoor screening of the movie Local Hero. It has become a major – if not-so-new – musical venue.

It really gladdens my heart to see structures like the bandstand restored and put to use. Old buildings that fall derelict are very often knocked down or, in the case of the wonderful old Scotway House (below) at the mouth of the River Kelvin, destroyed by fire. It would have been a wonderful building for an upscale restaurant but, never mind, the distress of the owners should be relieved by a large insurance cheque.

The problem I have with the wrecking ball being taken to buildings whose best days may be over is that, in most cases they are structurally sound and architecturally stunning. A disused factory, for example, could be transformed into housing. But once demolished they can never be resurrected and they are inevitably replaced by something modern and far less attractive.

Imagine if some of our clan chiefs decided to knock down their ancient castles because they were no longer habitable?

Meanwhile new estates spring up on what used to be precious countryside. Mass-produced houses in suburban developments are affordable but they lack any character. Given the choice between suburbia and a restored old city tenement, I would always pick the latter.

The town I grew up in once boasted a magnificent hotel, the Marine and Curlinghall. It had a sprung dance floor and a historic connection with the development of the sport of curling. Nowadays it would be a listed building but in the early 1980s it was sold to a development company and demolished. I used to work in the hotel and thought it was a crime.

Here in Phoenix, the spread of large housing estates seems relentless. This is an ever-expanding city thanks largely to the year-round sunshine. What is depressing is that many of the pockets of waste land that break up the endless housing and commercial developments are being steadily built on.

The desert landscape doesn’t have the same beauty as the Scottish countryside but it is still a relief to get in the car and leave the city behind once in a while. There are plenty buildings in and around Phoenix that are lying empty and could easily be used for housing with a bit of imagination.

On a slightly similar theme, I always wonder why old ships or boats must end up in the scrapyard. They could be put to good use in ports and harbours around the world as museums or for educational purposes, perhaps even for short excursions.

Maybe it’s just a dream and commercial considerations will always win the day. But it seems absurd that while perfectly good buildings stand empty in the centre of a city, cookie-cutter homes are being built in the suburbs.

And equally absurd that old boats that have been built with the sweat and toil of shipyard workers are rushed to the scrapyard at the first opportunity.