When it comes to the geography of British popular music, Cambridge isn’t the first town to spring to mind. Certain northern cities are inseparably linked to their musical heritage, from Liverpool and the Beatles to Manchester and the Smiths. London, meanwhile, has produced too many great bands to list. But Cambridge? The town’s links to Pink Floyd might be celebrated on the refurbished walls of The Anchor, but the truth is that while Syd Barrett and Roger Waters grew up here, the band met at art school in London. Fast-forward to 2014 and Jesus College alumni Clean Bandit have just topped the charts with Rather Be - but personally I’d prefer to let the dust settle before we elevate Clean Bandit’s brand of classical-electronic fusion to the status of greatness.

The dearth of notable Cambridge bands starts to make sense when you size up its current music scene. My friends studying at Manchester, Leeds and Bristol tell me that the live music scenes there are vibrant ones. Not only do plenty of students form bands but the variety of genres is huge, and there are numerous serious music venues to play. Not so at Cambridge. Any student who frequents the occasional live music nights held at The Fountain can tell you that there are a handful of bands that play every time. Among these are Lorelai, Dirty Blonde, Laurie Lewis and The Fat Cats, Wuthering Wuthering and my own band Venus Envy. I like to think that we are invited back so often because our set goes down well; whatever the truth in this, I know it’s also partly due to the fact that event organisers at Cambridge don’t exactly have the luxury of choice when it comes to finding acts. Form a band in Cambridge and it’s not hard to join this privileged musical coterie - demand simply outstrips supply.

Why, in a town bursting with musical talent, is this the case? Why is the music scene not characterised by the same richness, variety and high standards that our student drama is world famous for? Perhaps the answer lies in Cambridge’s size. It is the large cities, after all, that spawn the majority of household names. A smaller town equals fewer venues and fewer live music opportunities. Sophie Grant, singer in soul-pop sextet Lorelai, sees Cambridge’s size as a mixed blessing: “there tends to be only one event on a night so it’s easy to get a good crowd, but then obviously there’s much less variety in what’s being put out there. People like Cambridge Creatives are doing a great job at publicising new and interesting Cambridge artists, but more could definitely be done to provide more and varied opportunities for musicians.”

Size matters, then, but as we all know it’s not everything. I suspect there are other obstacles to a thriving music scene that are more specific to Cambridge—the difficulty of time management, for one. Great bands don’t magically become great; all the innate talent in the world is no replacement for regular rehearsals, the countless hours essential for familiarising yourself with your fellow bandmembers’ styles and ‘finding your sound’. For students at some universities this indulgence is feasible, at Cambridge, it’s problematic at best, academic suicide at worst. In Venus Envy we’re all committed to the band and in theory would love to rehearse three or four times a week. But the reality of workloads (our bassist is a NatSci), not to mention the limited availability of the Churchill rehearsal room, means we’re lucky if we manage two. No one in Cambridge is immune to the time problem: it extends from the musicians themselves to event organisers. “I think student-organised gigs can be a bit limited simply because people have a lot on their plates,” says Ruby Zajac, of folk trio Daughters of Delamere. “There definitely is a music scene for singer/songwriters and folk musicians, which is my thing - you just have to think outside the college bar box”.

"I think the music scene's pretty good," says Guy Clark, bassist of Dirty Blonde. "Institutions like Clare Ents and the new Maypole Folk Nights are really good for giving live acts a chance."

However the fact remains that when student gigs are organised, the quality of the set-up often leaves much to be desired. Drummers are asked to bring not just sticks but snare drums and cymbals; feeble PA systems leave singers drowned out; guitarists have to lug their amps around, and this means bands have to rely on taxis; playing music quickly becomes a pricey pastime. College rehearsal rooms, too, are rarely designed with bands in mind. Some have a drum kit, fewer have amps, and fewer still have a PA. This isn’t a problem for string quartets and close harmony groups, but if you’re in a band it can feel like Cambridge is conspiring against you.

There is a certain type of gig, of course, which promises a much more professional experience. This brings us to a distinctive quirk of the Cambridge music scene: May balls. May Week provides the exceptional few days of the Cambridge calendar during which live music enjoys some prominence. Ball guests have come to expect a set menu of contrasting styles: the chart hits medley band, the reggae group, the acoustic-guitar crooner etc. These musicians tend to have one thing in common: they play covers. Covers can be counted on to go down well in any setting, which is why they are encouraged by ents organisers. In other words: tuxedoed, inebriated ball guests want something they can sing along to. The side-effect of this policy is a certain reluctance among both musicians and organisers to take risks. And I’d argue that, fun as May balls may be, the wider Cambridge music scene is poorer for it.

My interest in bands shouldn’t, of course, obscure other dimensions of Cambridge music. The classical scene is thriving. Posters for recitals jostle for our attention on railings just as much posters for plays do. Most colleges have a chapel choir, and there are plenty of elite orchestras and chamber groups. In many ways the classical scene is as busy and productive a universe as the ADC. And while jazz cannot quite claim the same prestige, there are a handful of excellent big bands, and even a small modern scene based at the Hidden Rooms.

When it comes to rock and pop, though, Cambridge will never become a hub for live music unless we make a concerted effort to challenge the status quo. This means fewer nights at Cindies and more at The Fountain; fewer swaps and more Clare Ents. But no one ever started a revolution in Cambridge with that battle cry, did they?