Why does Leicester struggle to attract big bands?

It's doubtful whether Richard Haswell is dangerous, but he is armed. "How are you?," he asks, wary smile pointedly juxtaposed with the big socket spanner dangling from his gloved hand.

There's an explanation for the spanner. The De Montfort Hall manager has been putting up fences for tomorrow's Summer Sundae festival.

Together with the workman's scruffs, it sends a message that here is a man pulling his weight to bring top music to Leicester.

It might also be a subliminal warning to tread carefully with the line of questioning.

That won't be easy and Richard knows it after our bumpy telephone conversation last week.

Who books the bands for De Mont, we asked? That one's not very good. You need to get someone else in.

After much exasperated sighing and a few choice expletives, Richard gave us an answer. He books the bands.

We agreed to talk again, face to face, in a few days. So, here we are, braced for round two in the DMH foyer.

The case against DMH is this: Summer Sundae is fantastic, one of the best boutique music festivals anywhere. You can't knock an event with more than 100 acts over six stages, featuring the likes of The Streets, The Zutons and The Charlatans.

But after the summer comes the winter of discontent. Look to DMH for a decent band in the run-up to Christmas and the cupboard is almost bare.

There's Massive Attack, Bowling For Soup, the pineapple-haired woman from M People, if we're being charitable, and, well, that's about it.

For much of the next three months, the house lights will dim to the crunch of Werther's Original on denture.

There's lots of good comedy and prestigious classical concerts, plus plenty of multicultural events, but the rock and pop bill has brittle bone disease.

This autumn, ladies and gentlemen, we'll party like it's 1939 with the Glenn Miller Orchestra (again) or tap a natty slip-on to the superannuated sounds of Memories Are Made of This, Dancing in the Streets, Spirit of the Dance, Jack Jones and the Billy Fury Story.

There's nothing wrong with any of those, but where's the music for the under 40s?

Nottingham's Rock City, a similar sized venue, has them in abundance and so does Wolverhampton's Civic Hall.

Under 40s pay their share of the £700,000 a year DMH gets from the council, but it looks as though they're being short-changed.

Richard's eyes do a barrel roll.

"The starting point for your comparison is wrong," he says.

"Nottingham has Rock City, the Royal Concert Hall, the Theatre Royal and the arena. They all do elements of what we do but we're trying to cram them all into one venue.

"We've been here before," sighs the DMH manager.

He's right, we have, but it's never been properly explained why the DMH can't shoehorn more bands into its schedule.

That question normally leads to calls for a new arena. But we're not talking about Oasis and Coldplay enormodrome acts here, we're talking the likes of Paolo Nutini and Lily Allen.

"I don't buy the view an arena is what Leicester needs," says Richard, breaking with the established orthodoxy.

"Nottingham, Birmingham and Sheffield all have major venues within 60 minutes travelling time. Big bands tend to play one regional gig.

"I don't think the potential for an arena is there in Leicester. What we need is the equivalent of an O2 Academy or Rock City."

Over at Wolverhampton Civic Hall, manager Mark Blackstock says booking bands has never been easier. With record sales in freefall, bands are desperate for lucrative live income.

"It's not for me to criticise other venues," he says. "Leicester used to be really good for bands."

The words "used to" speak volumes.

So why is Wolverhampton getting the likes of Ian Brown, Jet, Franz Ferdinand and Ray LaMontagne when Leicester isn't?

Having the Little Civic (capacity 120) and the Wulfrun Hall (capacity 1,134) helps a lot, explains Mark.

Wolverhampton can give emerging acts a leg-up at the smaller venues. By the time they're ready to play the Civic Hall, strong bonds have been established.

Getting gigs at DMH is made harder still as most of the major promoters now have stakes in venues and a vested interest in filling their own houses first, leaving the likes of the DMH fighting over the scraps.

Rock City, an independent venue, keeps its leverage with promoters because the owners have other nearby venues to bargain with and Nottingham is seen as too big a music city to miss off the map.

Promoter Tim Hill, of Outside Promotions, takes yet more of the heat off Richard.

Leicester suffers from a lack of venues and an audience that too often stays at home, he says.

Put on a half-decent band in Northampton or Wolverhampton and the place will be packed.

Do the same in Leicester and there will be enough empty space to hunt wild buffalo.

Consequently, if a band is going to do one East Midlands show, promoters will tend to look elsewhere.

"Richard is a good bloke," says Tim. "He'll do everything he can to help you out. I'm forever hassling him with bands, but there isn't the space."

Rock and pop bands are nearly always the last acts to become available to DMH, Richard explains.

By the time they do, perhaps at a couple of months' notice, that night has already been filled. The big musicals, which guzzle dates, are often booked 18 months in advance.

So why not remove some of the scheduling bed-blockers – Blood Brothers and the big Christmas show Scrooge – from the diary?

Why not let Curve handle those?

"Curve and here are different animals," says Richard. "Curve's smaller. It's not a place to see major West End musicals. If we don't do them, no-one will.

"Twenty-eight thousand people came through our doors to see Evita and Joseph last Christmas. They're hugely popular."

Okay, so how about leaving, say, 50 diary dates blank a year, for the last-minute booking of bands?

They tried that a few years ago, says Richard, and many of those "dark dates" in the diary never got filled. If that happened again, he points out, we would be banging on his door wanting to know why the closed signs were always up.

Ironically, Richard could save himself a lot of hassle by not bothering with bands at all.

Comedy, musicals and family-friendly kids' shows mean 44.8% of the DMH audience is aged between 16 and 44 – enough to justify continuing taxpayer support as an all-things-to-all-people attraction.

He doesn't want to do that because he's a music fan.

"I want more bands," says Richard. "I wanted Ian Brown and Franz Ferdinand and it would have been fantastic to bring The Specials here.

"You're asking the wrong question about why bands don't come here. The question should be why is Leicester so under-served for venues?"

Full Summer Sundae coverage in The Week today.