Lord Watson of Wyre Forest (Lab)

My Lords, I declare my interest, as in the register, as the proud outgoing chair of UK Music, the umbrella body for the British music industry. I am sure I do not have to tell my noble friend that the United Kingdom is one of only three countries in the world that remain net exporters of commercial music. That is not an accident; it is the result of a delicate and highly successful ecosystem. After two terms and six years chairing UK Music, I have spent a great deal of time reflecting on what makes this country so distinctive in the breadth and quality of its music, and its renowned commercial success. There is no single explanation, but there are four essential pieces to that jigsaw. The first is our songwriters. They are unique, special and precious. They are often contrarian, usually very clever, and sometimes fragile and tender, much like the songs they write. The second is our performers—the artists who wear their heart on their sleeve night after night, festival after festival. Last week, it was a pleasure to see British artists Lola Young and Olivia Dean win acclaim on the world stage at the Grammys. The third is our musicians. They are technically gifted, are often poorly paid and frequently struggle to make ends meet. Yet, for them, music is often not just a job but a vocation. The fourth piece of that jigsaw, and often one of the most overlooked, is our producers and their recording studios. A few are famous, such as AIR Studios, founded by Sir George Martin, which still has trailblazing engineers such as Olga FitzRoy, who helped to give the London 2012 Olympic Games their music; she has also worked with Coldplay and my personal hero, George Michael. Then there is Mickie Most, the founder of RAK Studios, who worked with artists including Herman’s Hermits, The Animals and Jeff Beck. However, there is also a generation of producers who are perhaps less well known but still highly regarded around the world. They include: Manon Grandjean, a leading figure from the grime scene, who has worked with Stormzy and Dave; Paul Epworth, a producer for both Adele and Florence and the Machine and the owner of the Eurythmics’ former studio; Catherine Marks, an award-winning producer who has worked with Alanis Morissette and Wolf Alice; and the great Cameron Craig, a mixer and producer for Grace Jones and Annie Lennox, with multiple Grammy awards to his name. Together, these producers and studios shape the sound of modern Britain and underpin our global success. That is why I am extremely grateful to the noble Lord, Lord Clement-Jones, for bringing this important report from the Secondary Legislation Scrutiny Committee to the attention of the Committee. One of the reasons given for excluding recording studios from this measure is that, unlike music venues, they are not accessible to the public. With respect, that suggests a misunderstanding at the Treasury of what recording studios are and the role they play in the music ecosystem. Recording studios are not private; they are not private members’ clubs. They are working spaces. They are social and cultural. Anyone can hire them—artists, musicians, producers and engineers do so every day. Some of them even have bars. The sector spans everything from a small studio on an industrial estate to large facilities capable of hosting orchestras, as well as landmark studios that are part of our national cultural heritage. This matters far beyond London, too. A brief example illustrates the point. Habitat Studio, a short walk from Manchester Piccadilly station, hosts between 120 and 150 bands every month, around 80% of whom are grass-roots artists. Alongside this, it works with established touring acts, charities and universities. Facilities such as this operate seven days a week, with small teams providing professional, affordable and reliable spaces for recording and rehearsals, and food and drink. They are not marginal operations. They are busy, productive and deeply embedded in their local music economies and cultural scenes. What concerns me most is the logic underpinning their exclusion. First, there is an economic inconsistency. Studios face the same pressures as venues, including high energy costs, specialist premises and skilled staff. Supporting one part of the supply chain while excluding another risks distorting behaviour and, over time, pushing recording activity overseas. Secondly, studios act as regional anchors. They sustain skilled employment, support freelancers and help create creative clusters in towns and cities across the country. Thirdly, studios are not peripheral. They are upstream infrastructure. Without studios, there is no recorded music. Without recorded music, there is no touring product. Without touring, there is no export success. Britain’s music industry is one of the country’s great success stories. It depends on an ecosystem in which every part matters, from the songwriters to the performer, from the musician to the producer and the studio that brings that work to life. If we value that ecosystem, our tax and rating policies should reflect how it functions. To borrow a lyric from a song recorded by the Korgis at Crescent Studios in early 1980, I say to the Minister: “Change your heart, look around you”. Recording studios are not an optional extra. They are essential cultural and economic infrastructure and our policy should recognise them as such.