Can Sofar Sounds’ secret gigs survive the arrival of Richard Branson?

The first rule of the attention economy is have a snappy title, and Throwing Rocks at the Google Bus is a great title. It's the new book from writer and theorist Douglas Rushkoff, and the points which he makes within are just as worthy of attention as the eye-catching bold print on the cover.

Rushkoff argues that the digital-economy business model has been responsible for a poor distribution of wealth and that scale is not always a good thing.

Instead of harnessing the technological advantages of this new age for something different and all-embracing, the “obsolete economic operating system that emphasizes growth” dictates that new-economy companies go all out to create monopolies, dominate the market and go for the big bucks.

What happened to the idea of collaborations, asks Rushkoff, which would be good for workers, communities and those who want their goods or services?

Well, what happens is that collaboration goes right out the window the minute someone sees a great idea and decides it could be (should be) huge. It doesn’t matter that many ideas don’t actually need to be artificially amplified and exaggerated and blown up out of all proportions. It doesn’t matter that some ideas fall apart the minute you pump them up. No, the growth mantra kicks in and everything changes.

Not all growth is to be frowned upon. Sofar Sounds is one of the most interesting music communities out there at the moment. Instead of shows in clubs and venues – or, as in the case in the current season, fields and tents – Sofar Sounds’ gigs take place in smaller, more intimate spaces like someone’s kitchen or living room.

What began in London in 2009, primarily as a response to gigs and venues full of eejits with phones ignoring the musicians onstage, has spread organically to 263 different cities worldwide with acts big and small playing secret, private shows because an audience has embraced the ideas. Sofar, indeed, so good.

Enter Richard Branson. The Virgin boss has kicked the tyres, decided he likes the cut of Sofar’s jib and is investing in the enterprise. He sees Sofar as re-establishing the connection between audience and artist which was lost when you have to go to “a soulless hall” where “everyone stands around looking at their phones” to see a live show.

It’s a commendable idea to invest in a grassroots endeavour like this and I’m sure Sofar will make full use of his cash and contacts. However, Rushkoff’s warning about scale and growth comes to mind when you consider the ins and outs of this move.

Will what made Sofar such a success become diluted as it scales as will inevitably happen when serious cash comes into the operation? Will Sofar move into the traditional gig promoting space and buddy-up with some of those promoters whose bread and butter is putting on shows in those “soulless” venues? Will Sofar’s unique attributes become another marketing tool for a bigger entity or brand who want to capitalise on its credentials?

No doubt the Sofar founders will point out that they’ve no intention of diluting the very things which have made the series such a success to date. But it’s not just in Silicon Valley (either the real one or the TV show of the same name) where founders often find themselves grappling with change.

Right now, Sofar Sounds is a great idea reaching a big audience without any hype or overbearing marketing. It’s seen competitors and imitators come and go. Maintaining that glow and resisting the lure of amplified growth will make for some interesting future times.