THERE are an estimated 50,000 bands operating within London. 50,000! Frankly, I find that terrifying. It means you’re never less than five feet from a bassist. It conjures a scene similar to that David Attenborough documentary with all the crabs on the beach in, only with mediocre mope-alongs in skinny jeans swarming as opposed to small red crustaceans.

“And tonight”, says the voice-over, “like every night we see the indie singers emerge, lank-haired and bleary-eyed to begin their long and fruitless search for an A&R man”.
As I said, terrifying - but mostly, the advantages to the consumer outweigh the existential horror. London is pretty much the global capital of rock’n’roll. At the top end, we receive the metaphorical lap dance of Prince and Michael Jackson choosing to wiggle themselves in our direction; and at the lower end, we have approximately 200 gigs a night to choose from. Tonight, if you felt so inclined, you could see Icelandic folk off Oxford Street, slick country ballads in Islington, ukelele covers of punk songs in Chelsea.

But is this musical smorgasbord actually good for us? Does it make us the best audience in the world? We are among the most discerning, certainly, but last week in Barden’s Boudoir in fashionable Dalston, I began to think we are also the most frustrating.
My old friend Jasmine, who lives in New York, was over in London for her band’s European tour. Her trio, Sea Sick - who sound a little like the Doors fronted by Siouxsie Sioux, caught in a violent South Sea squall - are loud and original, have a devoted following in the States, had their debut EP mixed by PJ Harvey’s producer and are attracting interest from Mute and Warp record labels over here.

The Bardens show was a support slot, it is true, and really a warm-up to the following night’s gig in Hoxton, but even so the head-nodding, arms-folded attitude of the audience was pretty dispiriting. Nothing wrong with the performance - it sounded amazing, made me itch to fling myself about - but the Bardens crowd offered no energy, no effort in return.

Such insouciance is too often the way in London. Go to any provincial town and the kids go wild simply to hear a bit of feedback - and even in New York, the attitude is a lot more open and encouraging, with venues that attract their own audiences regardless of who’s playing and proper communities of musicians.

So while every band tries their luck here, and every promoter wants to make a quick buck out of them, cities like Manchester, Sheffield and Glasgow are better at producing and nurturing groups that last.

If we’re the crown of rock’n’roll capital is to fit well, we should take that up as a challenge.