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Part 1: Preparing Images

Asked to describe the year before Cream emerged, Barton's story instead insinuates a proper entrepreneurial legend (Lines 3-20); situating Cream's imaginary boundary in his childhood memories (3-26), and delineating a body of enterprise discourse (3-20) that helps authorise Cream and Creamfields today. It sets the scene for his emplotting an Aristotlean 'epic' and 'tragedy' narrative (Hamilton 2006) that connotes a proper storytelling genre underwhich to understand Cream's emergence, and establishes aleitic modality; situating these memories 'before' Cream Barton insinuates contingency, necessity, and causality (3-26), and assembles spatial and temporal synecdoches that emphasise the history of Cream Group Ltd., in contemporary images. Barton asserts that Cream today is only readable in relation to this longitudinal, epic, narrative (3). It is a double narration, by him and by Cream, and it confuses spatial signifiers with the historically signified, telling it in turns that prepare and redescribe spaces over time in a tactical telling. It is Bartons childhood memories, then, that prepare a theatrical space from which actions can unfold, (3-26) and the discourse embodied assembles a legend of‘grass roots’ emergence leading to authentic big business.
I: maybe we should start with what it was like before Cream. What were you doing, say, in the year leading up to Cream?1 J: “Well, if you want the full story, really you need to go back years because sort of, in my teenage years,. which was the mid 80's in Liverpool, I was introduced to cool


music by my brothers and when I say 'cool music' I was too young to be into punk rock but then picked up on things like The Jam, The Clash, early on the sort of stuff I was into. That then developed into..... well, first and foremost, the weird thing about me is that live music was my first passion. So when I was a young kid, me and one of my best mates, we used to spend most, as many nights as we could in


The Empire or in the Royal Court or wherever watching bands, so I've seen 1
Line numbering is used for reasons of clarity. Some reconstruction has taken place and paragraphs have been excluded. The intention is not to present a scientific text.

everybody and I think I have to sort of explain that in a way to try and square the circle with Cream, because, you know, at the time, I didn't realise, but looking back, now, my broad taste in music and my broad awareness of live music and everything else comes from just going to see everything and anything. Liverpool in


the mid 80's was a tough city, politically it was a nightmare, drugs were rife, unemployment was huge... and not a lot changes, it's like that today I suppose in a way- But it was a completely different place. It was a very bleak place really for somebody like me who was sort of very aware of my surroundings, really felt as though I had a burning feeling in my stomach that my friends didn't have and at


that time I didn't really understand it... I had different taste in music, I had different taste in clothes... I come from a really, really mainstream working class Liverpool council estate”.

The story, then, unfolds from a space of memories where Barton is a child in a big city, and the image evokes Barton being ‘right’ and necessarily having to become an entrepreneur, as if, despite the conditions, it was always possible (7-26). Barton’s naming of Liverpool as a space (19-26), then, contextualises and orients his legend. By naming himself in relation to that space (22-26), he puts him in the ‘right’ space, establishes an interlocutory contract with class relations (i.e. the rich), and draws a frontier- an avant garde – that prepares the listener for actions that subsequently change the space into something better and that will supress the polemic. Operating as spatial synecdoches these turns on Cream today emphasise part of the story for the whole, and Barton the necessity of having those experiences dramatizes the trustworthiness and good nature of his story. He prepares the epic. Contextualising 1980s Liverpool, though, also cites national stereotypical images and operates as another spatial synecdoche that dismisses Liverpool as a context for successful images of musical entrepreneurship back then. It is the “bleakness” (19-25) that operates as a conjoining bridge to the space of Liverpool and Cream today by reifying the lacunae of opportunities and emphasising the efficacy of Barton's intermediary actions in making things ‘better’. It establishes the city as











Kirzner’s“awareness”) helps reassert aleitic modality (i.e. a necessity) to Barton's subsequent actions and establishes Barton as an 'other': marginal in terms of ability in a city portrayed as a marginal space (1926). Barton, then, first concentrates on contextualising his story, preparing spaces, and instating necessity, contingency and causality through his tale. Escaping Spaces; Insinuating Them 'Grass roots' also means a form of escape for Barton:
J: “...So for me, the way out, or the hobby or the passion I had was going to get in to see as many bands as I could, and I saw lots of cool bands and lots


of really shit bands as well. But I saw everybody. I was just a gig goer and then I became a nightclub goer when I was 15 and a half, nearly 16..... and it sort of changed for me, like most people involved in dance music, in 1988, when, I was in London, I got took to a couple of early acid house night clubs, heard this sound, saw what was going on and fell in love with it


basically. Came back to Liverpool, hadn't really been in Liverpool much that summer because I had been travelling a bit in Europe, watching bands and selling t-shirts and stuff like that. So what happened was, I left school quite early, I didn't have a problem with school but I knew I could make money, so I knew I had what is now described as... entrepreneurial I was


a little ducker and diver, I sold sweets in the playground, I had a paper round, I did all of these things, worked on market stalls at weekends, and left school at 16 knowing that actually I had the knack for turning 10 pounds in 20 pounds or 50 pounds. So I just thought “There's no point me hanging round for school for another couple of years. I know what I want to


do”. So I got out and I dived straight into what I wanted to do, which was market stalls. I then discovered that I could actually go and watch as many bands as I liked by buying tickets in advance and selling those tickets and acting as a ticket tout, which for 3 or 4 years was my ticket, if you like, to seeing amazing bands in amazing cities. I travelled right around Europe,...”.

2 It should be noted that during this time Liverpool was a space for successful musical entrepreneurship.

BBC HG2G asserts: “In the early-to-mid 1980s, Liverpool became, for a while, almost as important to music as it had been in the 1960s; the likes of Yazoo, A Flock of Seagulls, Echo and the Bunnymen and The Mighty Wah all played at The Cavern, Eric's or the Royal Court, while Probe Records, at one time the workplace of Dead or Alive frontman Pete Burns, was the place to go to buy the latest records. It seemed that everyone in that city was in a band, or knew someone who was”. (

Barton then named spaces he travelled to, delineating spaces in Liverpool, and citing figures from his early musical experiences:

J: “...And then I came back. Acid house hit in 1988, I had just come back from Holland... ...stayed at a friend's house and then went to a rave event in London- called The Trip.. Which just opened my eyes and then dance music was it for me... ...Something new. Something that my brothers didn't know about. And I knew it was cool. I knew it was modern and cool... ...acid


house and house music and techno were something that I thought 'This is the future'.

J: “Everything was about London then. In the mid 80s, yeah Liverpool had a good scene but I was too young to Eric's, so I missed Eric's, that was like late 70s, so I missed that. So as it happens, Liverpool wasn't really doing a


lot, and also, I was travelling loads... ...I was getting access and seeing how all these different cities did and Liverpool back then, as I said, it was a pretty bleak place. There wasn't really a lot to stay here for. So the idea of getting on a train and going to London for the weekend and doing a couple of shows, making some money and going out clubbing all night was



J: “I used to say this a lot- what got me into this in the first place is me sitting at home, frankly frustrated with what was going on around me, seeing Tony Wilson on TV every Friday night, because he had his own TV show, telling us how amazing Manchester was and promoting his own


record label and his own nightclub. But, actually, doing it really fucking well, and sitting here thinking 'fucking mancs'”.

Connotations of finding “a way out” situate Barton back then politically and ethically, firmly asserting he was one of the people and in a “nowhere”: Liverpool (46-59). As proper figures (61) with whom Barton had an ambivalent relationship are then cited, Barton authorises his steps toward musical enterprise and is able to assemble an exteriority (61-64), both human and spatial in nature, with him sitting as Manchester is positioned as a proper place. Situated between these proper figures and these proper market places, Barton coordinates Liverpool as the “product

of stretched out, intersecting and articulating relations of the economy”, thereby integrates the “social and the spatial”, and introduces “directly into space itself...the issue of social power” (Massey 1995: 2). The city is portrayed as a “bleak” no-where between spaces (30-34; 52-64), and a no-when between musical boundaries (46-54), and it is then by combining tactics, travelling to and imagining spaces outside the city that Barton's entrepreneurial otherness is able to flourish (31-54). It is a story of business awareness and development being oriented and given an aesthetic by a passion for music and by being situated at the intersection of other proper places and proper figures that in turn reify memories of the “bleakness”. Knowing that Barton began with small/no size, a lack of resources, and from a margin position amplify the magnitude of his triumph and legend, and the lacunae of opportunities in Liverpool he describes ,(18-25;53-59) a synecdoche in its own right, works by reifying ghostly epistemic possibilities of what memory, and imagination, could invent and reinvent there. Years before Cream emerges, Barton prepares images of Liverpool that ghostily foretell of the change to occur. A spatial frontier- an avant garde – is incised in his telling (18), and from the spaces drawn emerges possibility (18-69), and a space of telling stories is furnished. The emergence of Cream: A Space of change Wider research reveals Barton's practical itinerary promotion-wise back then involved commonplace 'Do-It-Yourself' tactics, like fly postering and giving out flyers (reference?), while an acquired interview between Barton and Wilson reveals 'gleaning' (Hanning 2007) of barrells and other opportunistic activities3,4. Barton and Cream operated in shared market
3 4
A partially indecipherable dictaphone cassette tape of a public meeting discussing local business, cultural regeneration, and change held in Liverpool in 2004. Daisy, in 1988, and then, Underground, a few years later, were Barton's first club nights. Although they became popular, the clubs were still organised by Barton and a small group with very little proper knowledge or resources. They were intended as small club nights that served friends and that would bring good music to Liverpool in the hope that others shared the organisers' tastes. Barton and Darren Hughes then started the first Cream night on Saturday, October 17, 1992, at Nation, with some financial backing from unofficial stakeholders. Cream quickly grew to cater for and exploit the thousands of punters who travelled from around the country but who were refused entry. By 1996, the club was XXXX capacity and it sold shares to the then current Nation owner, Stuart Davenport, and Ingenious Ventures, who brought £5,000,000 and who, eventually, took almost half the shares in 2001.

spaces at this point, sometimes having to manouervre around market 'places'. Barton doesn't go into his tactics back then though. It is instead left to the epic magnitude (beginning in a “bleak” place, Lines 18-25), and to modal notions of him necessarily having those experiences (7-18; 725), and those memories being necessary for how others read Cream today evoked by his telling (15-17), to emplot and bridge the no-where space of Liverpool back then with the more proper images of Liverpool today. As syntatical actions are excluded, this asyndetic spatial coordination provides an aesthetic explaining how reified actions should be imagined: it was right and, hence, is a beautiful story. Working for a major record company (65-79) is just another way Barton coordinates neccessity in his story, as he furnishes a process of realisation with enterprise discourse (69-79)5 and how big business strategies and structures didn't work for him. “I had to get out” it connotes, and names a proper place (the properness of BMG) and prepares the audience for the finale; his and the story's destiny: the emergence of Cream so that the legend continues. The upshot of this is that the proper place Barton names, BMG, appears stagnant, slow, and stubborn, while Barton differentiates his vitality and alludes to multiplie epistemic possibilities by creating economic spatial images by situating himself amongst the incumbent social power relations and discursive bodies of proper places.
“I worked for a major record company for 5 years...BMG. So I've seen the inside of a record're not working for yourself. I think people like the control. They like to run their things the way they want

70 or lose. XXXXBig company don't like people like meXXXXX Determination bordering on aggressionXXXXXtoo entrepreneurialXXXXX After I managed a band, I would only do it once...because I could be the cleverest fucker in the world but if I had 4 doughnuts in the bands they control my destiny. I wanted my success to depend on how good I was... I


was fantastic at doing the deals. What I found really hard was then waiting 12 months for these fuckers to get their arse into gear to give me a good album I could then go out and sell. I was really good at was signing singles...the product is already made. What became a pain for me 5
And reveals a series of 'causes': feeling restricted, a desire for control, a sense of alienation, and an aggressive entrepreneurial spirit.

was when I started to sign albums..and then spending a year... It's like


being on the end of a leash, wanting to go, but someone holding you back. I felt let down. I can deal with the disappointments, as long as they're my own.. If the shit hits the fan, as long as it's my fan, I don't mind”.

Instead of describing tactics, then, Barton's story involves tactical representation of action, telling it in “turns”. The space Cream then later emerges in is one of possibility: it develops in the spaces and gaps in meaning alluded to as Barton names proper places and other spaces he had to leave, or had drawn frontieres and boundaries across. Always being an “other” among the “people”, it was just “hope” that they were “aware” enough to understand what others like them wanted back then (83-84). A series of polemics (52; 61; 61-64; 65-79), and possible spaces (26-45; 4651; 51-59)- not a proper market exteriority - was established at this point: proper market places that act as polemics and interlocutory contracts are necessary for these spaces of possibility to emerge6.
“I think entrepreneurs are like that- ..they're very aware of what's going on around them, and what they know. This is what I used to say about


Cream in the early days: 'Cream was about mine and Darren Hughes' taste in music and graphic design,' right, and we just hoped that 1000 people shared that taste, then 2,000, then 5,000, then 10,000.”

Intermediate: Between Spaces and a Proper Place Suddenly (85), though, the image of Cream changes. Barton's story involves a threshold at which the story reorients itself, it eventually becoming clearer that this is a marketing story, a proper tale told by a large firm, not the story Barton tells other scouse businessmen7. He instead prepares and emplots history leading up to Cream in order that Cream, looking back, will redescribe it, coordinating images of positive contextual change and the legend of 'grass roots' emergence that market
Barton, though, does not present himself as a hagiographic figure. He describes the necessity of being part of something then, as one of the people, and of having institutions like Radio 1 to join up to “the pockets”.

7 And that was revealed in a partially indecipherable tape recording of an interview between Tony Wilson and James Barton held in Liverpool in 2004 and acquired from a secondary source.

Cream Group Ltd. today. In the following quotations then, the trajectory leading up to Cream's emergence shifts to reflect on contemporary images of Cream (85-138), and the story itself then becomes the image of Cream and Barton want to assert today. Barton describes developing more proper ways of operating (85-110)8 as Cream grew , formal marketing messages like “tell audiences we are a lifestyle brand” (85-90) and assembling an exteriority (Lines) by differentiating itself from the “people” (85-90) and others (99-139). That place established is then authorised twice over (the first authorisation being the story itself) through Barton citing numerous big business musical entrepreneurship figures (85-909), and contextualising his legend through establishing and citing its history in a wider body of discourse (9195) and by emplotting existing, almost classic, epic tales (Hamilton 2006) of musical entrepreneurship. Despite citing an authoritive place (85-90), though, a deceptive paradox emerges at the point at which Cream markets it's “people's club” image and the veil begins to faulter. But even with the paradox, Cream tactically competed against rival clubs and authorised itself by citing this legend and establishing a polemic contract that made them appear as “kids”, or the poor, taking on well educated rivals with greater resources (115-125). Such contextualisation and plot enables Barton to perform a Robin Hood, or Jester-like role (Warren and Anderson in Hjorth and Steyaert 2009), in which actions are authorised by unequal power relations, Barton's awareness and 'grass roots' image, and a sense of being 'right', 'other', and winning, despite of it all. But the paradox remains. It is only by contextualsing Cream like this, situated between these proper figures and places, that a forbidden form of market deception (He admits, 136-137) is able to pass. It relies on an interlocutory contract being made with the market at the same time as Barton and Cream situate themselves in the weaker industrial position, naming their space in relation to proper and competitive places with
8 Like developing PR skills that bring with them the incumbent exteriority: a 'public'. 9 Elsewhere during interview Barton revealed a “secret fascination” with figures of big business musical entrepreneurship.

assumed characteristics: older, richer, better educated, and more interested in “fleecing” customers, and Cream exploits competitive pricing to esnure this image remains today.
J: “When I used to do interviews about Cream in the early days and people would go “So come on then, who does Cream want to be? Do you


want to be Virgin?” and I'd go “No, we want to be Def Jam” and they'd go “What does that mean?”, “Well, Virgin is great, but Def Jam is a massive life style brand in America, from music, to TV, to clothes. It does everything. If you're black and you live in America, you're fucking into Def Jam”.


[] J: I think if you want to be really analytic, you can trace back all of these big organisations to some really fucking cool guy, who went against the grain, who decided that what was going on was not as good as what he wanted to do, or there was nothing going on, so he was going to invent it. And that's


the truth. I: And that's what happened with you. J: Yeah I: It's always in relation to something else, as well.... J: You need a reference point. You need something anti- exactly. So, when


we launch Creamfields in the later 90s, even though we didn't mean it, we were out there telling everybody that Glastonbury was finished, right. We were like 'we're about one day, we're about the kids, we're about modern music, you don't need a tent, you don't need wellies'. We basically put a whole fucking list of things together to try and


differentiate ourselves from what else was going on. And it worked. It certainly worked from the media point- we were great at PR. We were fucking brilliant at PR. We were great at sound bites. We knew what buttons to press. All the time. And obviously, you know, slagging off an institution like Glastonbury- but Glastonbury was wobbly then. I wouldn't


go as far as to say we slagged them off, but we basically said 'we're different, we're a new type of festival from what you have got now'. And, then, you only have Reading and Glastonbury, and I think we came a year after V. There was not a lot around. And then, obviously, we have hundreds of festivals in the UK. But even then we were trying to


differentiate ourselves between the old and the new. So you do need a reference point and you do need something to stand up for and to put your flag in the ground about. And, because we were young, we said we

were all about the kids, and I said this before, and someone said to me- I did a conference in Ibiza, and they said 'what was the big defining point


for you guys?' I said 'we put ourselves on the side of the punters', because we were punters. We said 'we're with them'. So, we were always seen as, you know, as someone said in an interview one time, they said 'the difference between Ministry and Cream is that the Ministry is run by some Eton educated toff and Cream is run by two kids council estates


living out their dream. And we just round them up with that. They hated us for it. They actually, because, we were just like 'we're better than you, but you've got more money and you're more educated than us'. and we wound them up for ten years. I: Would you go and have a dance?


J: All the time. Maybe not so much at Creamfields. But at Cream. I dj'ed there for 8 years so I was massively visible in the club, and we were on the dance floor most of the time. We had guest dj's in that not only our audience liked but we liked. So if we had Tony Humphries on, we would be leading the audience at the front going 'this guy is fucking amazing'


and they'd be going by the end of the night 'you're right'. You know, that's what it was like. And we got away with that because we were only 22 or 21 ourselves. So set ourselves up as the people's club, so to speak. Yeah, we make money off you, but actually, we don't fleece you. And even today, Creamfields is the cheapest festival of it's kind. Even today.


And we absolutely do that on purpose. We look at what everybody else is charging and we knock a fiver or a tenner off. We are really aware.

Part 2: Changing Spaces Confirming the market value of images of spatial change today, the properness of Cream's official podcast names 3 distinct image spaces that Cream transformed: Line 143 involves a city of heritage (i.e. a before); a “bleak” city (i.e. the no-where Barton grew up in); and then a city of reasserted cultural heritage (i.e. that Cream was the intermediary between). Along with making those changes, it names (145-146) Cream as the eventual icon of the dance music phenomenon, (i.e. a proper place) and miniaturises other places and figures that Cream's “people's club” image depends on (i.e. Ministry of Sound), and suggests how Cream should be judged aesthetically: as “sophisticated cool” and able to bring

about positive spatial change (143-147).
“Reasserting Liverpool’s dominance as the home of many a musical genre, Cream burst onto the 90's Northern clubbing scene with a swagger of


sophisticated cool, making house music history and cementing the highly coveted swirl [the cream logo] as figure head of the chosen clubbing phenomenon of a generation” (Official Cream Podcast).

[Nobody] “imagined that [18] years on” from starting that “alternative to


what was happening down the M62” and elsewhere that Cream “would be a multi-million pound music and media company with a huge impact on global club and youth culture. Cream's is a story which has touched has helped shape the thoughts of the media, police, and government10”. “Over the last [18] years, the company has built its


reputation on delivering innovative, creative and popular appeal to youth audiences” (Cream Official Podcast).

The Podcast, then, represents Barton's story in proper form. It amplifies the synecdoche to such an extent that the other figures and places that operate as joining syntax are out of place, and accentuates the magnitude by delineating an 'impossible space' that became a reality (e.g. 149-152: ““[Nobody] imagined” that from such a bad place...). As Barton had to, it prepeares the storytelling space for subsequent spatial changes to unfurl over, and highlights that Cream emerged in an alternative space between proper places (149-150). It names other spatial images too: the emergent space of “global club and youth culture” (151-152), and a contested space (52-53) that again assembles power relations and a polemic contract. The “multi million pound” Cream of today, then, still appears radical, and somehow related to “the people”. But far from the 'other' space in reality, Cream is positioned at the centre of an image of dance music entrepreneurship (143-152) and, today, exploits images that miniaturise a proper market exteriority (85-125; 149-155) at the same time as it, implicitly, assembles one (i.e. through podcasting, PR, etc). It has become a proper place that requires history to authorise it's appearance today. But
Legal battle over injunction between Cream and The Echo.

the story is a tautology (the story is the story): the story is that Cream “touched millions” and that is an image surreptitiously cited (152) from the market (and then made proper), before being exploited as a market image. It confuses the proper market exteriority assembled, and operates as a tactic, the notion of being a “story” (152) fabricated from facts and the cited “reputation” (154) helping to socialise Cream's own image so market perceptions of firm size and memories of it's trajectory can be manipulated and the citation is able to pass. The next paragraph now prepares the story space for how Cream operates today, and insinuates other spaces and boundaries necessary for how Creamfields, Cream's flagship project, is understood.
J: “For ten years, Cream was the centre, or one of a couple of companies or organisations who just seemed to be pulling all the strings musically. The


other was Ministry of Sound. We had a lot of other people, but they weren't serious players... I think there is a lot to be said for being the first or one of the first and, even though there was people before us, a lot of people now 20 years down the road view Cream as being the first, which is not true, but the other companies have now disappeared” (Interview 1)


[] “...then you hit the first period where maybe the business is going through its traumatic stage. Suddenly, things weren't as easy as they had been throughout the 90s. I think 2000 was when the bubble was punctured and by 2002 it had deflated. There was a lot of big companies in this earlier,


like us, with huge levels of staff, big business plans, big ideas and then, suddenly, things started to drop off a cliff. The marketplace changed. There was definitely a period of about 2 or 3 years when dance music was on life support. And that's why now when you survey the landscape, you only see a handful of organisations that still exist. So then the challenges came.


What came from that I think was that, suddenly, the competition between the organisations and the pettiness that used to exist suddenly stopped. A realisation kicked in that we had to, first of all, look at our own business inside. We all had to change budgets, we all had to suddenly get serious about trying to run it as a proper business. We were fortunate because we


had just raised quite a lot of money. We'd just took quite a lot of investment through, so that sort of kept us afloat, kept us in cash. But we had 2 years where our combined losses were £1.5m. So we'd gone from

making great money to losing, bom, bom, bom. It's a huge amount of money for a company of our size to lose. That was pure loss. We had to


reorganise and we had to find a way of rebuilding from there. We were lucky because we had an international business. Others weren't so lucky. We had cash to survive... I think what we did very cleverly after the millennium downturn [was] we focused in on the products. We put the brand to one side and we said “Lets get back to the product because, if we


don't improve the product, the brand will die”. Whereas, maybe, we got to the point where we thought it would last forever. We got to the point where we thought “We can stick this logo on anything at it will work”. But, actually, when you start putting your names to products that are shit, you start putting your name on poor shows and inferior things, the first people


to spot it are the audiences. The same happened with DJ's. They weren't giving value for money. And what happened was the audience walked away”

As the podcast did, Barton's first revelation here is the social value of the primary synecdoche in play (157-163), before he connotes (lines) an image space (Lines 159-163: i.e. a “reputation”) that stretches back along a trajectory of successful musical entrepreneurship. An untrustworthy citation (161) is established, and figures positioned as polemics (158-163) in the past appear as ghosts to accentuate the righteousness of Cream's modest victory. Preparing the story space, Barton, then, names different intersecting spatial images. The first of these is defined temporally and in terms of ways of operating: the '90s, like a bubble of immature “big” business (165-167). This spatial image Barton coordinates as being disrupted by the emergence of a shared space of environmental change (167-170) – the “traumatic stage” - between 2000 and 2002 to which Barton attributes causal value, characterising it as a disruptive space in time ('a turning point', a 'critical moment' (Cope 2001), or a 'biographical disruption' (Bury 1982)), that involved what Barton names as a market “deflation” period and a “life support” period. He suggests the emergence of this shared space altered the normative characteristics of all business images (172-177). From then on (173), a new image of Cream emerges in a space of “proper business”, defined by less explicit and wreckless competition, new market conditions, new possibilities and challenges, and

across which boundaries are marked (174) by actions involving a less “petty” aesthetic. This spatial-temporal image's causal nature is affirmed as the paragraph concludes and Barton marks a boundary (187: “...maybe, we got to the point”), past which Cream began focusing less on deceiving customers with surreptitiously tactical and aesthetically deceptive products (188-191: branded, but low quality). Emplotting the spaces, Barton then describes a general itineray: from “realisation” (175), budget change, (176) and taking stocks of resources (175; 177), through to reorganisation (182), and a new focus on products and audiences (184192). As a different kind of space of possibility then emerged, the disruptive “traumatic stage” bridges the improperness of before and the “proper business” of Cream today; temporality being used to emplot change occuring to spatial images over time. Different resources (i.e. 178179: Barton cites “investment”, and 182-183: “international business”) are other bridges that Barton emplots as being necessary to Cream enduring the space of environmental change and managing to then imagine possible market space, and these resources and knowledge also differentiate boundaries between firms in this shared environmental space (182-184). At this point11, a properly delineated exteriority and intent is developed: a proper market place and proper interest (174-186). At the same time, the increased immutability of the image, necessarily causal or not, also suggests proper epistemic certainty characterising this space, and Barton's childhood “awareness” emerges to play a ghostly role in subsequent actions12, and, again, differentiates Cream from other firms in the shared spatial image. Because the spaces are also positioned so as to construct their necessity in Cream's trajectory, though, they play a double role by attributing an aesthetic that suggests judging Cream's actions as beautiful, good and right, and that, despite Cream's size and visibility back then, it should still be situated in a weak position, though only supressed by a business environment devoid of competition.

11 12

The transcript includes a series of spatial signifiers that assemble an exteriority: “survey” (160-161); “inside” (163-164); “proper business” (165-166); ““investment” (167); “reorganise” (171); “international” (173); “audience” (179-181) The most visible 'ghost' in this transcript must be “size”.

Part 2: Using Images The following transcript marks a boundary in the telling of Barton's story. In contrast to Part 1, then, some of which was a trajectory “bursting” with Cream's emergence Part 2, which focuses on Creamfields, coordinates how Cream Group Ltd. develops and markets these historical images and uses them to authorise a more static firm with an established place of power and market exteriority. Barton outlines an itinerary (193218) that begins (193) with questioning the value of Creamfields, and answering (194), by properly naming Creamfields as “...the original, biggest, and best festival for electronic music”, and presenting the legend as a truth installing citation (firstly as Cream's public image 193), and then as a generic image for all “good” festivals embedded in the social (198)). It authorises Creamfields' place of power today by operating as a synecdoche that emphasises history to construct a legitimate aesthetic to the service. This isn't Cream “bursting” onto the scene anymore, though, and, instead, Barton establishes a set of trusted itinerary strategies that are repeatedly enacted (205-210)13. With greater (proper) epistemic certainty (i.e. they have established a valuable market image), these strategies are then justified by panoptics (195-197) that also affirm the proper business intent today, and which are measured quantitively in terms of profit and ticket sales, not their weight in an epic plot. The most visible face of Cream, today, as such, resembles the proper places it positioned itself in relation to before. It is the story, his-story, Barton and Cream narrate that repeatedly authorises the establishment of this place.
J: “...we always ask ourselves, 'What are we famous for?' The answer is the original, biggest and best festival for electronic music. That begins by


securing a killer lineup – that's where our main focus and investment goes – and I think that ticket sales this year, plus the response we've had from fans, show people agree that this year is on of the best... But it's also about introducing new music, so we've also put money into [that]. That's what a good festival is all about; it sounds cheesy, but a tapestry or jigsaw of


different 13 Marketing, PR, etc.






Festivals. boss....) I: What about the iconic the marketing literature you talk about this iconic nature of Creamfields...or of Cream as a brand and how does Creamfields express this iconic do you try to build this and


develop it? J: “Well..I mean..look, it's..I think Creamfields' iconic14 status has developed over the twelve years of being in existence, and I suppose the iconic status pulls on the heritage, the quality of the festival. Anything which has been doing what we been doing, as well for so long, becomes an icon. It's like a


famous actor. I mean, you know, it's marketing speak, so I don't want to get ahead of myself wont hear the word 'icon' coming out of my mouth...because that's what I suppose PR's and marketing people- they use big expansive words like that. But... I feel it's because we deliver the best product of it's kind and we have done that on a regular basis for 12


years,... it's a monster of dance festivals,'s very well known, and very popular” (Interview 2)

A Proper way of Operating Today15, then, Barton can highlight an itinerary (lines 217-265) of distinct practices taking up large spaces of time that have specified, proper, business intent and which can operate in the proper business space he earlier delineated. A proper business exteriority is in place now too, over which exchanges are monitored by 2 panoptic strategies (222: “marketing and monitoring of ticket sales”), that also include substrategies acted more or less tacticly, like radio advertisements, and Facebook. The narrative then flits between ordering spaces of time (i.e. lines 220-239) and the practical itineraries which mark boundaries over those spaces, and, spoken in proper business language, it assembles more a business plan than an epic plot. It also expresses the 'monstrous' size of
At time of narrating, it was not clear where the word 'iconic' arose from. It is believed marketing literature (e.g. flyers for Creamfields 2010) included the term and it was appropriated for the aide memoire, the literature source then disappearing over time, or that Cream have altered their Facebook 'Info' page post the phone-interview. Cream is a large multimillion pound global firm, with a strong “heritage”, and has developed responsibilities like the care of employees, and contractual agreements with financiers (i.e. Ingenious Ventures, and Ingenious Ventures' Venture Capital Trust that poured in £1.7?? million into the group in 2001?), and that it has large archives of research, established market places and expectations, and habitual modes and routines of operation that partially determine in what ways it can operate and which ghostily pervade images of Cream.


Cream in terms of time and energy consumed, and establishes boundaries marking proper market 'places', geographical and demographical in nature16, across a global, shared, space (i.e. lines 228-236). The function here is formal and commonplace: these aren't makeshift practices enacted by a firm on the run, or in a weak social position, but are proper strategies enacted by a large firm. They resemble practices defined by Certeau (1984: 36) as characteristic of management strategy: an unfurling itinerary through which Cream capitalises on advantages gained (i.e. a place of power, a reputable image developed over time to cite, power relations, and proper knowledge bases developed over time and through panoptics) and pursues panoptic research that divides geographical space into distinct market 'places' that can be “read”, named, measured, analysed, and tactically redressed (226-228; 228-238; 240-244). Though regular meetings do then enable some flexibility in operations, the proper itinerary itself is decontextualised “in respect to the variability of circumstances” (de Certeau 1984: 36), and Barton formalises the proper itinerary to such an extent that it can be laid over time and space each year (217-239). Time and space, then, are divided, analysed, and put into formal, proper, order so they can be controlled, and panoptics enable market places to be delineated ever more accurately. The point is that these are actions undertaken by a place of power with greater control over it's environment established in a place with greater epistemic certainty (i.e. no need for “hope” and properly named market place opportunities). It is a place constituted by proper knowledge, power, and vision over space, and time, and Cream can predict, justify, and respond to market news (230-244) while at the same time being able to plan possible routes of diversification, or, as they did, withdraw finance in some areas, because, today, they know their proper interest: making money. Today, then, Cream knows it's 'other': it isn't institutional figures positioned so as to establish class or power relations that matter, but the market exteriority that acts as the polemic Cream engages with. Some memories, though, do persist. Barton's childhood awareness, for instance,
Elsewhere, Barton clarifies characteristics of the market 'place' as being young (18-30) demographically, on top of being delineated geographically.

ghostily foreshadows this proper business awareness Creamfields enacts today (line 245-249), and Barton makes an evaluative turn on the “proper business” images he describes, alluding to notions of immediacy and change- notions more characteristic of Cream of old – still being embodied in how Cream Group Ltd. wields and responds to panoptic operations by his revealing numerous itinearies in which the properness of business strategy panoptics enable Cream to retain a distinct place of power and exploit or respond positively to intra-market 'place' change. The “document” might change quickly, but the market 'places' it insinuates itself in do not. Probably more importantly, though, Barton delineates a space because a resource enables him to. He names (249) a shared space of time Creamfields now operates within as being “the age of Facebook”, 17 and describes how it impacts temporal experience and the sequencing of activities (lines 249-260)18. Facebook is used to broadcast and educate market places as to who Creamfields is, and what it offers 19. More importantly, though, it also involves the “people” in the construction of 'subjectivities' (Cote & Pybus 2007), the result of their 'immaterial labour' (Lazzarato 1996) being that Cream develops identity profiles of audiences, as well as understanding spatial variations in audience activity (249-264). It involves the “people” in producing the “cultural content of the commodity [i.e. Creamfields]” – that is, “activities involved in defining and fixing cultural and artistic standards, fashions, tastes, consumer norms, and more strategically, public opinion” (Lazzarato 1996). Audiences, then, become an “audience commodity” (Smythe 1981:263), being an “aggregation of people linked to a particular market”, which then, reproblematizes the distinction between “audience and author” (Cote and Pybus 2007:89), as Barton had in the past with the notion of a “people's
17 18
The proper function of which is social networking, and which Cream Group Ltd. tactically appropriates and transforms into a resource of big business strategy. It should be noted that Creamfields enacts various commonplace strategies during it's marketing itinerary, including bill board advertising, magazine adverts (exclaiming “It's what Bank Holidays are for!”), radio play, other traditional marketing strategies like postering and flyers, and that Facebook is just the most visible of an array of other online vehicles through which Creamfields is marketed. Creamfields Facebook 'Info' page asserts “Creamfields is the world's leading dance music festival. The original dance music festival set out to provide the clubbing world with a bespoke large scale outdoor event and has gone on to become the most popular and renowned open air electronic music festival in the world. It's famous for many things not least it's heritage but it's consistent delivery of a world class line up and unbeatable atmosphere! The line up mixes together genre breaking pioneers from across the DJ and live music spectrum staged across a Live Outdoor stage and 8-10 arenas. The strength of the festival brand globally is proven, having spanned over 17 countries over the last 12 years.”










reestablishes social relations rather than disintegrating them (and returning them to a “people's club” economy without exteriority). The intersection between Creamfields, market places, and other festivals, is perhaps appropriately named as a battlespace that bridges to a space of possibility (255), and, past Cream's exterior, both customers and competition are positioned as polemics (255-264). Facebook, more than anything, transforms Cream's epistemic relationship with the these relations (257-264), and means that, today, big business panoptic strategies can be enacted in a more tactical manner able to respond quickly to market news. It's use follows a reverse order of evolution, being a tactical way of operating developed into a big business strategy, as, Cream, having appropriated and acted on a technological medium originally intended for people's everyday activities, and more associated more with Do-It-Yourself images of musical entrepreneurship, then “incentivized” it for panoptic purposes. It means Creamfields reimagines some of its “people's club” history, hidden behind Facebook's everyday aesthetic, and as notions of “interaction” (255-257) that operate as turns help authorise proper big business strategies enacting Cream Group Ltd's mostly commercial interests. Strategic, the image remains deceptive (i.e. tactical) through it's aesthetic and the way in which it gestures to market places, implicitly positioning itself alongside customers, in their bedrooms, as a surreptitious, or 'soft', marketing tool.
“The process for Creamfields starts pretty much as soon as the last show


has we could be looking at 13 to 14 months, before each show. I suppose the main focus has been the marketing and monitoring of ticket sales for Creamfields here. Obviously, the delivering of Creamfields takes up a huge, huge amount of time: two meetings per week regarding different aspects of the festival. One is an operations meeting and the


other is a marketing meeting. There will be a marketing plan, and a marketing budget attached to that activity, so once we've established the marketing plan, we establish the announcement date and the on sale activity for that particular event. Post the announcement, there is regular meetings, regular discussions, and also a lot of monitoring of the activity.


So, if we've got say a week of radio planned for Liverpool or Manchester, we will analyse ticket sales from that location during that period. So the meeting is basically implement the marketing plan, but also build in the ticket sales into our thinking- “Right, OK, so we're not selling any tickets in Newcastle, or we're down”- because obviously we're able to


compare ticket sales in each city, in each region, right across the country, year on year - so we're sitting there looking at that data from 2009, 2008, and that data tells us we're down in a particular city, [and] we can make a decision about whether we want to react to that, whether we want to go in and spend money to get that, to get that market back to where we need it


to go, or we can make a decision to say “Well it's not selling there, we don't think it's going to sell there, so lets pull any planned marketing out of there and put the money into the places where we actually are selling tickets”. So it's an ongoing, living, breathing sort of document, that changes every week really. We were in a really fortunate position this year,


where we were seeing very strong sales from launch, so we were able to have some flexibility in our marketing plan, that meant that pretty much we didn't market the festival in the last 8 weeks because we knew it was going to sell out, so we were able to reduce our marketing budget on that basis and save quite a considerable amount of money. I don't really like


anything set in stone; I'm not that analytic, but I do like to analyse each individual days ticket sales, and we get daily update sales here, so we like to have the information in our hands so we can make decisions pretty quickly. I want to be able to turn around a decision in 24 hours. So if I'm sitting there looking at something on a Wednesday morning, I can do


something on a Thursday morning to react to that. And, obviously, in the age of Facebook and online networking and the internet, I can make a decision at 9am on a Tuesday morning and I can have that publicised by lunchtime- we don't need to sort of wait for deadlines from newspapers or from radio or anything, we can just get to work with that straight


away..feeding that change or that bit of information into our Facebook, which is now over a 100,000 people have signed up to Creamfields Facebook, which is huge. That's the battleground, sort of, in a way, as we move forward.. Whilst we've got the vast majority of our audience as members of our Facebook, interacting with us on a daily basis, to news that


we release, it's an amazing marketing tool's also a really strong researching tool as well, where we can, at any time, pump some information into..we can pick 5000 of those people, or 2000 of those people, and incentivize those people to give some research back, so we can also, sort of, find out pretty quickly, why people have bought tickets,


where they have bought the tickets from, but also what drove them to buy the tickets, whether it was a poster on the wall, an add in Mixmag, an ad in a magazine, a radio clip on a radio station, or whether it's internet, social networking, or word of mouth.

Part 3: “Sensitive” Attention to Images Part 3 continues the focus on how Barton attends to and develops the image of Creamfields as he unfurls a decision making itinerary (277236) that challenged his attitude to ethics in business and the role of sponsorship in musical entrepreneurship. By then repeatedly establishing and naming properly known and well-delineated market places, figures, and discursive bodies, Barton creates an authoritative space for the decision making process to unfold over (277-295). One of these temporalspatial images Barton names is a period of reduced sensitivity to the role of sponsorship in people's everyday lives (272-273)20. This image then intersects with another (277-278) that outlines an economic space of time: the current economic situation. This economic time-space forms a boundary across the initial space Barton marks and changes it's normative characteristics by multiplying the visibility of market gestures. The third spatial image Barton then scores constitutes the pragmatics of people's encounters with the loans company stall during Creamfields (285-292; 306-316), and enables Barton to test his hypothesis and repeatedly foretell market responses to the gesture (280; 304; 309-314; 323-328; 331-335). Whilst still preparing the decision making space, Barton also establishes interlocutory contracts with figures constituting proper market places that determine whether the gesture passes. These are named geographically, and as a list of interlocutory ethical and discursive contracts held between different figures (289-292; 306-309; 312-315; 320; 326-331; 331-335)21, some of which Barton can relate to: underpriveliged Mancs and Scousers who save up their money to attend Creamfields. These figures at least establish a bridge between Barton's
20 21
Barton had established in the first interview that he believed since the emergence of dance music and the onset of the '90s that society is less sensitive to the role of sponsorship and big business in everyday life. Barton cites a contract with customers, and alludes to ones with cultural traditions, the interviewer, and to Barton himself, notions of good and bad business; the press; and imaginary figures.

childhood and ethical business practices today and allow the epic legend narrative to continue. Faced with the threat of high interest loans, citing potentially vulnerable figures with little economic capital (289-292; 306309) though, helps establish power and class relations amongst the interlocutory contracts that explain why the gesture would pass the ethical threshold Barton establishes through the intersection of the earlier spaces. Other figures (326-331) highlight a body of discourse that historically pervades sponsorship deals (being most concentrated around issues of authenticity in musical entrepreneurship), and that are excluded from any proper market place Barton names today but whose critical attacks are still established as polemics that sponsorship deals must attend to. The result of this process of spatial, figurative, and discursive ordering is that Barton is then able to properly name the gesture as “profiteering” (293) and authoritively assert that, within these spaces and amongst these figures, and dependent upon the large size of Creamfields today and the discursive body of musical entrepreneurship, it would be a highly visible, and forbidden, big business strategy. Figures noted would pick up on it, the gesture would not pass, and it would attribute an unwanted aesthetic to gesture: “a neg” (324)- the result of acting improperly amongst those places delineated and the figures outlined. Ethical interlocutory contracts Barton holds with himself, though, are just as important as social value. He underscores (295-299; 307-309 331-335), for instance, that, behind these spaces he coordinates, are also personal motivations and memories. Some of these (295-299; 307-309) reestablish links Barton between and the no-whereness double of 1980s epic Liverpool of and the somewhereness of where Barton is today and, without attending to these, Cream's narrated tragedy authentic, “sophisticated cool”, “aware”, 'grass roots', “people's club” musical entrepreneurship would be disrupted. This conflation of spaces, times and figures, moreover, also reifies another enduring childhood memory and a body of enterprise discourse whose necessity Barton has insinuated repeatedly: his “awareness”. This mute character bridges Barton's childhood with his sensitive attention to the role of sponsorship and

ethical business today, and provides an aesthetic that endures between the two: “sophisticated cool”, 'grass roots' musical entrepreneurship. Barton's attentiveness to the social nature of value endures, but this is a proper kind of awareness, and an exteriority is in place today, as Barton is able to exploit the proper knowledge Cream has obtained by being able to delineate occasions (i.e. different market places, the space of time they exist in, and the type of customers involved) that test his hypothesis22 and foretell market responses to the gesture, for instance, by imagining the result of transcending the ethical boundary he established at the intersection of the spaces and figures he names as being a disgruntled mother from whom he receives an angry email (322-336). Throughout the transcript like this, Barton positions spaces and figures that suggest a clearer process of imagination, presenting proper business images (i.e. market places and proper market occasions), that exploit the proper knowledge developed over time and the panoptic potential of research to divide and predict market characteristics and responses. He is able to accurately identify who Creamfields serves, despite the “variability of conditions (Certeau 1984:XXXX)”, and foretell likely business ramifications to the gesture in ways that, in Part 1, when the business images presented were epistemically more uncertain and were defined more by “hope” and imagined possibility rather than justified, proper, intent, would have been impossible. Barton denotes throughout the transcript (276-279; 286-289; 289-295; 295-300; 310-315; 315; 328; 277- 236), the proper business intent in play here is authorised by the places, figures and discursive bodies he highlights. His awareness and intentions, as such, establish two overlapping and mutually dependent relationships (or levels of “awareness”) held with audiences23 that, depending on which is emphasised, assemble or disassemble the proper market exteriority that at different times has played a rhetorical role in how and why Cream Group Ltd. services have become socially valuable. The personal touches and different spaces delineated emplot and authorise this proper intent,
He says elsewhere that his mode of management had been transformed from an improper “seat of your pants” style to a proper means tested and “worse case scenario” style of operations.

23 One being a relationship amongst Cream Group Ltd. and audiences; the other being a relationship between Cream Group Ltd. and audiences.

and operate as rhetorical turns that obscure, temper, and miniaturise an almost purely economic and strategic predisposition. Because he attends to historical market places, though, the narrative's temporal orientation also shifts. The temporal orientation in Part 1 was very much forward looking, as Barton coordinates and emplots the emergence of Cream and evokes the kind of possible spaces he and Cream “hoped” to create. Today, though, with Barton's role of Managing Director, and the established normative characteristics of the Creamfields image (aesthetics, power relations, size, high visibility, as well as established “social” services), this orientation shifts and, looking forwards in time to come, it is extant (i.e. historical) market places that determine the social implications of the sponsorship gesture. He works at developing the historical image and the historically formed proper market places Creamfields exploits, being a game of management, not the “seat of your pants” emergent entrepreneurship that characterised images populating the first part of the narrative. It is the actions of a proper place enacting big business strategy able to develop panoptic devices that 'read' space, exploit acquired knowledge, and foretell the result of actions taken.
I: In our last interview, you talked about this 'sensitivity' to who you got


sponsorship by and who you chose...what kind of things were you thinking about this year when you chose the sponsors and how it all came out... J: Well, it was all pretty easy because one of the main of the main new sponsors was a sponsor that I've worked with in the past who returned back to the festival after being away for about three years...


I: Who was that? J: That was Strongbow. So that was an easy conversation. I think in today's age, the era of festivals and music events...the sensitivities around sponsorship is less so. I mean, we did get approached last by a sponsor that wanted to provide short term loans to people on the show, with ridiculous


interest rates, which we turned down. Which funny enough, that company now is sponsoring a premiership football team, which made me laugh really. But I thought it the economic climate that we've got, I didn't think we wanted to be encouraging our customers to sign up to aggressive loans with 200 % fucking interest and shit like that. So, that


just..and they offered us good money, and I'm glad we turned it down,

actually, because the more I think about it, the more it just felt like the wrong thing for us to be doing... I: It sort of questions what Cream stands for, in a way... J: Yeah. I've no problem with alcohol, or people who have got some


relevance to a social piece of activity- so if it's a food company, or a youth brand who wants to sell their clothing, or something like that- I actually don't have any problems with that. But on this particular occasion, I just thought my customers are going to know...drunk for a lot of the weekend, and they might run out of cash and to get instant loans from this


company...after they've signed up for, you know, really, really aggressive interest rates...they were only loans of up to 200 or up to 400 pound, but even so, we've got students and quite a lot of young people..and also we got people from Liverpool and know..frankly not...there's a lot of kids there that are not that well off and they've probably saved all


year.. or certainly found the money to buy a ticket for Creamfields and I just thought it was just, it just smacked of..sort know...profiteering, really, by taking this company's sponsorship money so they could fleece our customers on a shit load of interest on a loan... The other thing is, there is a personal aspect there as well- because I'm really, really lone- I'm really


not a person who is into the whole idea of being in debt- so, you know, I've seen what debt can do to people and it's just as bad as gambling, as alcohol music and drug abuse, you know, debt is a really nasty thing. And so I just thought 'we don't need that', so we turned it down. I: So you care a lot about your customers- the people who go don't


relate to them... J: Yeah, you know... We, we relate to them on two levels- we relate to them as human beings but then we also relate to them as our customers- we want them to keep coming back and spending their money. We're not new age hippies here thinking...we're here very much thinking about customer


service and it's about keeping them customers. And I think we're very aware of the age group and the demography in which we operate in. It's a very young demographic, and we remember when we were 19 and 20 and what it was like to find 200 or 300 pound to go to a festival then. So, nomaybe if it was an older festival and the age group was over 30 we might


have said 'OK, so let's take that piece of business because these people might be able to decide whether, judge whether they want to sign up to this'. But we just thought 'no, you know, people do crazy shit anyway when they're drunk anyway, so putting a document in front of them which would sign away their life' was not a good idea at all. It's not the right


environment as well. It's just not the right environment to be signing a

piece of paper that says 'yeah I'm going to borrow £400 off you', and, also, what was interesting about it was it was a short term loan, so you had to repay it in 30 days, and the interest was something like double, but I think the interest was high in 30 days- like 100 or odd % or


whatever, but then after 30 days the penalties got really severe, and I sat down and had a really good look at it, because we use an agency who find us sponsors, and they were like 'Other people are going to take this, why wont you take it? It's good money'. So they asked me to review it and look at it again and I looked at it again and I went on their website and I just


decided it wasn't for us.... it's the type of thing that would cause a negative...we always use the word 'neg' we're like 'let's not put a neg on the festival', so, you know, it's the one thing that...cos look, you know what- there's a lot of people out there who like to criticise even when the sun is shining, you know, so we thought 'you know what- this would the


one thing that a couple of people would go 'urgghh, that's just too much guys, you know?' Cos, you know, this was, is the same audience that 20 years ago was criticising promoters for dealing with the likes of Coca Cola and Pepsi, so we need to be aware of that... And look, as I said, it was a personal thing- I'd hate to get a letter from a mother 6 months or 8 months


down the line going 'Thank you very much, my 19 year old, or my 18 year old son signed up for a £200 loan and now he owes £3000 pound'. That's just blatantly horrible, so I just thought 'That's not worth the aggravation'.