When I stood under the shower this morning, naked save for my golden delegate wristband, mildly hungover and wrung-out from a full day of conferences and gigs, I wondered how I could have so easily developed a completely irrational adoration for a band whom I had only heard a few hours previously, the formidable Warpaint. To say that I love them somehow understates it. I want to learn how to sculpt, so I that can build statues to them. This stupendous band overwhelmed my unsuspecting consciousness with a sudden potency, like a spiked drink.

To begin a description by mentioning their all-female line-up already does them a disservice, for its their music that does the talking. They exude a awe-inspiring confidence and mastery, mixed with an incredibly powerful, incredibly sexy chemistry, that diminished the ability of my jaw muscles to keep my mouth closed. Their music struck me much in the same way as Interpol, but in a way that was somehow assured and triumphant, rather than the sad, whiny complaint that is the prevalent tone in the genre.

I was too far back in the Corn Exchange to get a good look at any of them, but I am completely in love with all of them, and my current concern is how on Earth I'm going to ever express my nascent devotion. That I could not discern one single lyric that they sung matters not one bit. I feel like a teenager, when I first attended festivals and kissed the hand of the beautiful mistress marijuana, kicking-back and instantly falling in love at first listen. I think its that pleasure in discovering music for yourself, in feeling a deep, significant connection with an artist that makes the live scene so exciting, like a fleeting affair. Like falling in love, it can happen when you least expect it; which is part of what makes the Great Escape such a terrific festival.

The Convention

Another part is the series of talks and panels that comprise the three-day convention. Earlier in the day, I went along bright and early to the Pavillion Theatre to see what I could learn from the industry veterans.

The convention began soberly, with the threat of rain. A dry introduction from PRS bod Chris Carey broke the bad news that 2010 was worse-off than its predecessor, in both the recorded and live sectors. It seems that the music industry is stubbornly determined to have a pessimistic outlook, and the morning's talks seemed more in the voice of a consoling therapist than an assured appraisal of economists and consultants.

Carey corroborated the fact that the live sector brought in more revenue than recorded music, about 40% revenue share. This change is an important factor for bands, whose focus had traditionally been fixed on the album. With ticket face-values ever rising, its what artists do on stage that will increasingly set them apart from the rest. The old timers know it well enough - we learned that nearly half of the twenty top grossing artists in the US are over sixty, a remarkable figure, that says less about the talent of young artists than the lack of appetite for risk and investment in new music on the part of the music industry.

The first panel tackled the pressing problem of 'making money from music', without much cheer. One question from the floor that asked how a touring band could remain financially viable was answered by Various Artist's David Bianchi with the advice to 'sleep in a tent'. With the industry still in a state of flux, it seems that pragmatism will be key.

Later, Brian Southhall, roused the rabble like Old Major, and reeled off a history of mishaps that had befallen the music industry, only to be later overcome, from the move to 45s to the VHS recorder; arguing that the prevalent doom and gloom is nothing new. For me, the most interesting innovation discussed was Steve Machin's successful venture to play films of live concerts in cinemas. The idea of packing out a cinema and dancing on your seat whilst listening to Faithless on a mega 5.1 sound system is obviously appealing, offering an alternative to the kind of music fan put-off by the raucousness or cost of live events. On the other hand, I don't know how many cinemas have alcohol licenses.

This renewed emphasis on the live scene in how the music industry is evolving shouldn't be surprising. There is a value in creating a buzz around an event, which creates a natural scarcity in that it occurs only once as a fleeting link in the chain of causality, something that recorded music cannot have. An event happens at a given time; if you miss it, you've missed it. This aspect of 'appointment' is an important aspect of what makes the live offering special, and services that harness or emulate it will benefit.

What did I learn? That the industry is still in a state of flux where the old rules don't apply, and no-one has all the answers. Its hard to see one winning, overarching model, service or paradigm that will become established in the short term. In other words, its a ripe and fertile time for creativity, innovation and new ideas. In the end, it didn't rain at all, and in fact it was a very sunny day.

Gigs

As a reward for sitting through the facts and figures, I listened to five hours of quality live music and drank as many pints. My strategy revolved around the set of Worship (@worshipuk) at the Live bar on the waterfront; the only homework I had done in preparation. Next door, at Brighton Coalition, the Estonian singer Iiris caught my eye, with the programme promising “a fusion of rock, synthesizers, innovation, electronic soundscapes, random madness, senseless beauty, zombies, cats and unicorns”. Being sceptical in the existence of unicorns, I decided to listen-in, and was pleasantly surprised from the off. Iiris had a strong voice, reminiscent of Bjork, and with a healthy dose of theatrical gesticulation. Her four-strong backing band provided an edge, with a backing vocalist, bassist, percussionist and inevitable ukulele (perhaps representing the “random madness”). The “electronic soundscape” and “synthesisers” turned out to be a backing track, which although I tried my best to ignore, I couldn't help notice when all five of the band would practically stand around for eight bars whilst the mac churned out the highly produced backing track. Overall, I was surprised at the extent to which the artists I saw yesterday relied on backing tracks, practically to the point that they might not have needed to be on-stage. What works on the top-end sound system of the Coalition wouldn't do so well on a shitty pub P.A., which I find faintly irritating in that its therefore available only to bands with the budget and backing to get top gigs. I wont take anything away from Iiris however, who put on a great show, warming up an audience that had barely the time to visit the bar before the gig started.

Iiris were succeeded by the raucous Fight Like Apes (@fightlikeapes), who are a grassroots success story. They started out around 2006, and within a few years were touring with the Prodigy. What is also perhaps overlooked is that as an Irish export they are an international artist breaking the London scene, which is notoriously difficult to do. I had seen their riotous shows at least twice when I was on the circuit myself, so I decided to move next-door to Life and discover something new, which on reflection is somewhat unfair on Fight Like Apes; they did everything right and I like them - but now that I've seen them twice I thought I'd give something else a chance that could well be utter shit. Oh well.

So it was that I stumbled up the stairs of Life, arriving at the same time as the singer of Paper Crows (@papercrows). The name had the faint familiarity from a glance at the programme and website, but I didn't know what to expect. I was drawn to the line-up: a guy on keyboards and an attractive singer, backed by a drummer dishing out groovy dub-step styled rhythm. The fourth member, the Apple Powerbook, was again a vital part of the sound, with lead-singer Emma giving the game away at one point by pulling the amazing feat of singing backing vocals with her back to the microphone. The set got progressively better until a blissful track right in the middle of the set that had the room positively vibing.

Perhaps the crowd knew something that I didn't, because after the set, Life drained away until I was standing at the bar with a shaggy guy in a hat. The next act, a Polish electro-duo called Rebecka, immediately persuaded me to stay when they pulled-out a rack-mounted Moog voyager. With the entire place to ourselves, I stood practically on the other side of the stage monitors and watched the performance at point-blank range. It was a wonderful dynamic, from being in two packed venues, to enjoying the perspective of watching every key press and filter change in close detail. Rebecka has a lovely voice, and the geek/gal electro pairing is a formula that works. I was in my element, vibing on Rebecka's sound they defined as 'Chinese techno'. Their set was like a terrific boozy night out; something that you enjoyed at the time but can't remember much about afterwards.

So having heard three bands in a row that I really liked, I felt that I was on the right track with Worship up next. Worship is a bit of a daft name, unless the band want to be associated with Gospel recital CDs. Cliff Richard fans would have been disappointed; but so also were Thom Yorke fans who were hoping for the Kid A style music they'd heard on the band's MySpace. Worship aimed high; trumping all the bands I saw that evening with two powerbooks instead of one and a table of pedals for each of the rhythm section. I can relate to it as a keyboardist myself; running tons of gear and syncing it all up is no small feat, yet it didn't quite have the impact I had expected. I think that the gentle falsetto of their lead singer was lost in the wash of sounds. Enjoyable nonetheless, and I think I| might give them a second listen on Saturday when they play the Green Door Store, and definitely recommend checking out their recordings.

I would have been satisfied to call it an evening, but the shaggy dude in the hat pointed out that there was still music at the Corn Exchange, so I went along to see a band called 'Warpaint'. I arrived there expecting a queue round the corner, but to my surprise walked straight in. This may be in part be due to Warpaint's support, whom I wont name, mainly because I cannot remember and its not even worth reaching over to the programme to find out. They'll always be bad music that somehow gets signed and gets attention I suppose, but it somehow never seems any less remarkable when you witness some band develop some dire sound to a professional standard.

It was nonetheless perfect preparation for experiencing the sublime Warpaint. In complete contrast, I am immediately gripped by a haunting, beautiful and potent sound that escapes comprehension. Listening back over the recording, I don't think it compares with what I experienced yesterday, but I'm still going to buy it. Its not a question of whether live will replace the recording: both feed off the other, and any given band is going to excel in one aspect more than the other. Yet when I left the Corn Exchange, that feeling of inspiration is perhaps more tangible and direct than a recording can be, and it seems that the live show is what is going to keep the music industry going for the foreseeable future.