The legendary Crown Hotel is still shaping Ōtepoti’s live music scene. The bar and music venue hosts local, student, and international musicians. A quick nosey around the pub gives you a sense of its history. The jukebox displays the owner’s extensive music collection, meanwhile holes in the centre of high top tables mark where ashtrays used to lie – relics from the era when it was normal to smoke inside.
The pub can be found on Rattray Street, in between the Speight’s Factory and the Grand Casino. Folk, metal, punk, and surf rock scenes all find refuge in this isolated strip of town. Three members of the Chin family purchased the spot together back in 1989. Critic Te Ārohi caught up with its proprietor Jones Chin to understand a bit of The Crown’s history.
Ōtepoti's live music industry is nothing short of relentless. In an era where bar owners change hands more frequently than Critic readers turn over pages to find the horoscope, The Crown Hotel offers a little bit of consistency. Jones was proud to call it "the longest running pub in Dunedin" to still retain its original name. Jones was really excited to show Critic a photo of the building when the bar first opened in 1861. Pictured were the original foundations supporting the now iconic Crown logo. This was 15 years before the first Speight’s was brewed across the road (clearly a prideless South). The Crown still remains open seven days a week.
Jones is part of a line of Dunedin royalty. An overarching mural of Jones' grandfather Chin Fooi covers the entire outer-back wall of the pub. The two story high artwork was painted by Stickum, an artist co-op, to commemorate the Māori and Chinese roots of the area. A caption at the bottom of the mural tells us that "Chin Fooi's laundry opened in 1920" on Rattray Street. Jones' father Eddie Chin later transformed the street into a nightlife hub in the 1960s and ‘70s when Sunset Strip and Tai Pei cabarets were at their peak.
In the early 1980s, Jones' brother Sam Chin bought the Majesty Theatre, found sandwiched between State Highway 1 and Vogel Street. With the help of Jones, they transformed it into the nightclub called Sammy's. The light blue façade housed a pivotal venue for the jangle pop genre known as The Dunedin Sound. A period that gave Ōtepoti international recognition in the ‘80s and ‘90s. Jones spoke of larger gigs attracting over a thousand people, specifically mentioning that more connected bands like The Chills would always have a “guest list of a 100, maybe 120 people.” The earthquake-damaged and asbestos-ridden hall now lays dormant in the hands of the DCC, waiting to be repaired.
Jones took over The Crown Hotel at what he called the "toe end" of the Dunedin Sound, remembering that "The Verlaine's played a lot, and so did The Bats." He has now plastered the walls with posters of musicians that performed at either Sammy's or The Crown. In our conversation he takes a moment to point at the recently deceased musicians whose names line the walls. He soberly notes that "Martin [Phillipps] has just passed away, Peter Gutteridge passed away a few years before that, and [a few years prior] Hamish [Kilgour] passed away too.” These members of iconic bands The Chills and The Clean were all once friends of Jones and contributors to the scene he helped cultivate.
Student band, The Audio Visual Drop Kicks (AVDK) recently wrapped up their ‘Betterland’ Aotearoa tour at The Crown. Singer and bassist, Jeremy loves that "whenever you go to a show at The Crown, you know that every single person is there for the music." Because it is so far away from Studentville "you don't get many people that just stumble in." Jones agrees that people who visit for live music are respectful. He was shocked that over the last decade, only three beer jugs had been stolen. He reported that "just a few dozen" pint glasses had been lost or destroyed (don't tempt us). To compare, U-Bar has lost over 2500 glasses in the past few years.
Jones took Critic behind a locked door to reveal an old extension of the bar. The space is now filled with broken furniture, pool tables, and posters. All artists that passed through The Crown pre-2009 used to perform here. Jones reminisced about the night when '90s Wellington band Head Like a Hole opened for Shihad. This was when they first "began performing nude." After stripping, the band headed to the stage. The stage manager locked the stage door behind them, forgetting that the butt-naked drummer was left outside. No one could hear him banging on the door because the bar was too noisy. As Jones told it, the drummer "had to go out the back door, run right around the block, then come through the front door," all whilst leaving nothing for the imagination.
AVDK’s lead guitarist George told Critic that when captioning Instagram posts for the gig, "I had to stop myself from introducing The Crown as legendary." Singer and guitarist Kaia told Critic Te Ārohi that her "dad played at The Crown a lot when he was at uni." When she finally got the opportunity to play she described it as "the most excited I've ever been to play a gig."
The Crown Hotel received economic stimulus from the government during the first COVID-19 lockdowns. The bar was kitted out with new PA speakers, lights, a live stream camera and a stage, meaning those vertically challenged don’t have to get on anyone's shoulders to see the drummer. But Jones was initially reluctant to take up the grant, telling Critic that "I've never taken a handout before." Jones admitted that "it basically kept us going, I suppose."
The main threat to the sanctity of The Crown is the new development next door. The gentrified block includes a storefront, office, and apartment space that is scheduled to open this winter. Jones worries that noise complaints from the neighbours could restrict how late bands are allowed to play. He equates the scenario to "buying a house next to an airport" to then start complaining about the noise.
The 68-year-old bar owner says that he only wants to stay in the game for "another couple of years." Jones, not looking a day older than 50, adds, "When I'm 70, I'll slow down." His relentless attitude is one to marvel at. Only then will he see "if anyone wants to take over."
While the bands begin to pack down at the end of the night, Jones treats them with a feed. Performers have come to expect a platter of pies, watermelon, savory scrolls, cheese rolls, and falafel sandwiches. Local musician Keira Wallace told Critic that they "appreciate the vegetarian options." Jones finds that "the bands are the ones that bring the business into me. So I help them out. It’s not all about profit. Basically, we're here for entertainment." At The Crown, it is the music that matters.
If you want to play a gig at The Crown Hotel email jonesatthecrown@gmail.com. We’re sure Jones would love to have you.