BDO Part Two: Resistance

One of my flat mates told me recently of her Big Day Out 2010 experience. The unfortunate scoundrel missed an entire evening of bands to queue to see Muse. She missed the Decemberists, Girl Talk, The Veils and countless others for this reason. An explanation is easy: a peek in her room betrays an entire shelf of Muse paraphernalia gleaming like hidden treasure: photos, signed EPs, B-sides, box sets, DVDs, documentaries, the whole shebang. Such an extensive range of collectors loot is a fine display of what, or who Muse have become.

When I first started listening to them, Muse were still playing the Green Stage, 3pm at Big Day Out. The music was so dense and intense, screaming some sort of manic paranoia which - at the age of seventeen - I felt a part of in some no doubt lame, cliche way. When I saw them in 2007 I witnessed one of the greatest sets of my life thus far, and of course that was the set that exploded them like a rash of teenage acne all over New Zealand. Another year of touring, a live DVD, another LP and by 2009 they're the worlds biggest band.

This is sort of cool, but it seems can contribute to a heartless live set. My poor flat mate missed half the day to see what she calls one of the biggest disappointments of her life. Despite the enormous screens, amazing special effects, and dream like light show, Muse were - when holding them to their own standards - flaccid. I thought while watching them that the spectacle was what so many bands in the past had striven to destroy: glorification of an act so enormous, that with each new fan the band become that much more tiny on stage. Musicians the size of pins, distant, unreachable, and totally without connection to their audience.

My friends and I danced along to some of our pastime favourites: Time is Running Out, Stockholm Syndrome, Starlight, Plug in Baby. But much like their new album The Resistance, the band now seem to be a mess of ideas and identities. To me, at Big Day Out this made them shallow.

It doesn't turn me off them however. It am not repulsed and repelled as I am to the new Kings of Leon records. I can still listen to Muse in moments of guilty pleasure and times when I secretly pop on Absolution to return to my teenage angst. The wonderful things the band have achieved in the past cannot be taken away from them... this applies to any band.

---

I'll briefly comment my thoughts on the other acts I saw.

The Decemberists won the award for Most Charming Band of the day. They were simply wonderful. I don't like to enter the "crowd banter: good thing, bad thing?" debate , but on this occasion it was definitely a good thing. Colin Meloy was as lovely as his music. He thanked the audience for being so warm and receptive (one person had even prepared a banner with his face on it, asking for them to tour NZ) strangely admitting that he "wasn't sure anyone was going to turn up". They played a lot off the Crane Wife, a little off Picaresque and Her Majesty, and only 'The Rakes Song' off their latest (and quite sensational) release The Hazards of Love. During the final song, 'Chimbley Sweep', Meloy crouched around the stage going "sshhh ssshh" as the band all down around him. He approached the mic and went "shhh ... they're sleeping" and then proceeded to lure the entire audience down on their knees as well. The music started again, and grew, and climaxed as the crowd jumped to their feet dancing. It was a great set.

Girl Talk was pretty awesome. The only thing I have to say about him is if you want to know what he's like live listen to his albums. Or see the documentary RIP: A remix manifesto (damn good watch).

We watched thousands of hands move in unison to Dizzee, and impersonated Lily Allen from the stands. And I got to see the Mars Volta for the first time, which was long overdue. I have always struggled to get them. Every time I think I've got a grasp they slip out of my clutches. But seeing them live was much like the Horrors experience - I understood the band a little better. Plus yaknow ... they're fucking amazing live.

After Muse we sat in the grass by the Green Stage (a BDO tradition for me after the headliner has played) and listened to Fear Factory and ate some weird flavoured ice shit.

BDO isn't the horrible commercial event it is made out to be. Ok well yeah maybe it is commercial, but that shouldn't discredit the experience. I hope my rambling recollections of the day have shed some light on that fact. It is, in Auckland anyway, a really lovely peaceful day which is about the music as much as it is just about chilling out and enjoying the sun. The lineup may not be amazing every year, but I think every year it is worth the trip north ... if just to get away and listen to some tunes with your friends.

BDO Part One: Scarlet Fields

Another Auckland Big Day Out became history last Friday, and I was there.

So much is made of the lineup before a BDO, and almost nothing of the music. The two have an interesting and complex relationship. Reading a lineup can be like scrolling through the artists on an ipod looking for something to listen to, having only your imagination and memory of an artists music to make your choice. I realised on Friday that a lineup means almost nothing at Big Day Out. The day by itself is, dare I say it, sort of magical.

The festival has an undeserved reputation for being common, insensitive and commercial. In reaction to such a reputation, the annual music festival Camp a Low Hum never announces a set list prior to the event, believing that taking the focus away from the bands playing will contribute more to the experience of the music. Perhaps this is true. Maybe forcing your audience to attend on trust and love for music adds extra mana to the experience for some. Whether it does or not, the festival I experienced on Friday had no lack of atmosphere or duende considering the "commercialism" of the event.

As I said, the day was magical, one of the most lovely experiences I've ever had. As a friend said to me at the time "I really freaking love Big Day Out... and I don't know why". Out of context, another friend supplied a possible answer, pointing me to the incredible diversity of people Big Day Out draws. Wellington can be a suffocating clusterfuck of competing social groups and sub-cultures, but at Big Day Out they were all there together, enjoying the sunshine, getting along, having a wonderful time: the jocks, the hipsters, the geeks, the sluts, the indie kids, and the straight up regular kiwi. My personal favourite however is the veteran. We spotted three of these at just behind the D-Barricade during the Mars Volta: clad in leather vests with grey hair and beards reaching down below their shoulders. We commented at the time how much respect we have for these people, what and who they must have seen in their time, and how they're still here, engaging in the same history we were experiencing in 2010.

To me, the reputation of Big Day Out mentioned earlier seemed complete undeserved. It was so much more welcoming and friendly than anything I'd witnessed at Camp A Low Hum.

Now to the bands. The acts I saw again reinforce what I said about the relationship between lineup and music. Seeing "Muse" on a lineup gives no hint of the monstrous sound they produced, and the stunning nighttime light show. "The Decemeberists" does not offer any clue to the wonders their set contained. "The Horrors" does not tell of the brooding Faris, dressed in Hawaiian shirt and leather jacket, leaning maliciously over the audience, his bagged dead eyes fixed on some distant, imaginary truth as he bellows 'I can't control myself'.

These last two bands in particular taught me what it meant to love music. It isn't just the endless playing of an album, or the collection of posters and tshirts. It is the love for who the band are, what they represent, what they think, and how they treat you. In the weeks before the event I re-fell in love with Nick Cave after reading a lecture of his on the Love Song. I saw into his mind, and behind his music. I understood him a little better, and was pulled that much closer to his music.

The Horrors pulled me closer. But not into a hug - they're not huggers. More into a staring contest. Like looking into the eyes of a beast before it devours you. They came onto the stage. They didn't talk. They conformed in black, behind sunglasses and instruments, at home in the sanctuary of the music they have crafted. They were still and confident. Their 'new sound' echoed in their expressions, Rhys Webb rocking back on his bass staring hypnotically into what seemed to be the entire audience. God knows what was going through his head. They opened with two tracks from their stunning new album, 'Mirrors Image' and 'Three Decades'. The rest of the set followed suit, all new material. 'New Ice Age' was frantic and manic. Faris thrashed his arms around, futilely seeking some kind of consolation from his lyrics. He found a dry oasis on 'I Can't Control Myself'. The live version was raw, atmospheric, and slow. It dragged wonderfully. Each gasp of the guitar was a plea for relief and release, Faris begging for some sort of understanding from the audience: 'I dream of lost desires / Fingers running through fur / I drive myself insane/ I can't control myself / I try and I try but I can't control myself'. In contrast, 'Sea within a Sea' and 'I only think of you' were simply gorgeous. They echoed peacefully yet sorrowfully across the field, despite the poor sound of the Converse Stage. And at last, what I'd been waiting half an hour for, they finally played 'Who Can Say'.

Before the gig I'd heard stories of shambolic fifteen minute sets from the Horrors, and Faris throwing black paint onto anyone in the audience who wasn't dancing. But I saw nothing but absolute certainty; a band with collected determination in who they were and what they were doing. It pulled me closer. It was one of the greatest sets I've seen. There were no theatrics. There was nothing that really made it stand out as 'amazing'. But the band themselves, they were so full of menacing potential and energy. It came out in every shriek and chord. I thought of a post I'd made a few months ago on the Handsome Furs, and how they were the future of "indie-rock". I believed, looking at the men infront of me, that surely the Horrors were the same. Their next album will be everything.

Tomorrow is Part Two: The Decemberists, Girl Talk, and headliners.

My Generation: Is music alive in 2009?

It is remarkable really. I hear it all the time, and every time it surprises me, catches me off guard. "This generations music has been awful, terrible, nothing compared to the 60s and 70s!" It is startling how often I hear this. Could it be true? And more importantly, why would someone think that?

The first time somebody pushed this extraordinary statement on me was in Canada, when I was told - by a man I have great respect for - that there has been no music of the last fifteen years that could ever compete with the Goliaths of the 60s and 70s. I can understand this. If I had lived through the years of Jefferson Airplane, Crosby Stills & Nash, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC they'd probably burn my mental retina as well. But I didn't, and free of nostalgia I believe there are very technical reasons why one could believe the music of today pales next to the monsters who came before it.

The Childhood of Rock'n'roll

The rock'n'rollers' of the 1950s, Pyche-heads of the 1960s, and 'Gods of Rock' in the 70s were all the founding pioneers of rock music. Rock did not simply just begin in 1955. It did not just fall from the heavens and began boogieing. It was an evolution. A social and race based evolution, and a musical one, fusing decades of folk, gospel, soul, bluegrass, and jazz. The decades following the 1950s were not decades of necessarily amazing musicians, who knew exactly what they were doing with rock'n'roll (although obviously, some were and did). 1955 all the way through to 1976 was the birth of rock, the childhood years. We saw its teething pains, its playful infancy, its rebellious teenage years, and finally its angsty, frustrated college days in the 1980s.

This is why rock music in these decades is so worshiped, and held on a pedestal high above anything created today: because it was pushing the basic format of rock'n'roll to the limits year, after year. What can we do with a guitar in 1967 that we couldn't do in 1963? What does the technology allow us to create in 1974 that couldn't be created in 1967? But overall, the main question of rock music in the twentieth century was, ''what the hell is rock'n'roll?''.

And they all had different answers. The punks rebelled against the psychedelics and tore their shit up. The rock acts of the 1970s saw rock through the eyes of Jerry Lee Lewis and Hound Dog Taylor, but built upon it, expanded it, see what was in that idea that could - or couldn't - be milked. So you see it was a discovery, a journey amongst comrades and rivals. The search for the answer was wonderful, and it in part directly looks at the opening statement of this post: this is why music of this era is so - and rightly so - adored and important. But... why isn't that happening today?

Well it is more difficult to play prophet than historian, but I think a have a clue.

Top vs. Bottom

If through the 1950s to the 1980s - when rock entered an entirely new cycle, one I believe we're still in today - we witnessed the evolution of rock, all we need to do is examine how rock'n'roll is evolving today. I have partly looked at this issue before. But in this context, I see it as a matter of - please excuse the Marxist vibe - top vs. bottom.

The music industry grew grotesquely in the 1980's with the rise of Reganism and MTV. Music was commodified and money could be made. MTV was a channel for this, a hook for propaganda, in a similar vein to Top of the Pops in Britain: Look at this amazing act we found. Rick Astley and Billy Ray Cyrus are selling millions of CDs - see what the fuss is about! Check out this amazing new boy band. The hype in the industry was originally focussed on, shall we say, 'classical' pop music. But the industry quickly learned - through the Stone Roses and Oasis in Britain, and through the grunge scenes in America - that pop music could grow far beyond the banal drum machines of Tiffany. This is the top.

We have discovered the brilliance of the underground, we know thats where the change is happening - and so does the top. The music industry has been exploiting every underground movement since Oasis. Why? Because during the 1980s the Smiths were a bunch of Manchester skallywags, not fit to appear on Top of the Pops. But my god did they have fans. Indie had potential, in the 1990s, Oasis and the Stone Roses, and Blur came along. Suddenly indie sold, and the labels grabbed on for the ride. Indie wasn't 'indie' music anymore - although they were simply building on the success of their 80s reflections - but BritPop. Because it sold. In the words of Noel Gallagher "I fucking became a fucking millionaire four fucking times in a

fucking week".

The bottom is where the change is happening. It is where in 1976 a fetish shop owner met a young angry British working class lad called John, and became his manager. In 1968, where a frustrated Jimmy Page charged out of the shadow of Jeff Beck and created something that he saw as beautiful. In the early 1980s it is where a resurgence of British youth felt the banality of the post-Thatcher world, and sang about it from their bedrooms. It is where in 1990 a young Billy Corgan began forming a band based not on genre, but on an idea. It's where the 'new Bob Dylan' of our time teamed up with his ex and toured the United States, stating she was his sister... and beating the crap out of Jason Stollsteimer from the Von Bondies while he was at it.

It is where change occurs. And it is hard to see the seabed from the shore.

You have to look at the underground to see why our generations music is equally as brilliant, because it is the only place where the genius of the 60s and 70s lives on. It is where imagination lives. It still amazes me how big the underground can get, how well known an indie band can become, and still comfortably play the tiniest venues. Maybe I'm used to it, especially with the internet, but the talent is really right in front of us if we choose to look.

Seeing the seabed from the shore

So where do we look? To answer this I would like to briefly look at the top again. Many, including myself on occasion, look to the online music magazine (also known as 'the oracle') Pitchfork. Pitchfork is known to be a fantastic channel for discovering new talent. The Antlers, Deerhunter and Grizzly Bear's careers have all been vastly improved through good reviews on Pitchfork. This is assumed to be the apex of the underground.

Weeell, I disagree. Pitchfork is still the top. They are still 'the man'. They are vitriolic, insincere, and in the words of a former Salient editor 'they hate music'. And we are below them looking up going, 'feed us, drop another overly distorted and complicated rhythm section between my waiting lips, please! We hunger for nonsensical literary references and melodies with no direction'. I believe this is what Bill Hicks would have called 'the mantra of the moron'. They have a reputation for being constantly right about their reviews. But they review with the Fox News methodology of I'm always right, as long as you can't prove me wrong. They will drop the hottest most talented band, no matter how good their new album might be, as soon as they think a new sound has come along. The mentality: latch onto every new sound, and as soon as one takes off we can say we were there!

Sadly the same story applies to almost every music publication. They are the man. NME, Rolling Stone, they all have interests other than the love and joy of music.

For us to appreciate the music of today, we must refuse the top. We must embrace our own tastes. Do our own research. If a band releases a good album then never lives up to it, don't hate them for it like Pitchfork would. Just love that one album. If a band becomes popular around the world, keep your faith in them. Look into what the members are doing elsewhere. I've found some of my favorite bands by looking at the members of an act and seeing what they're doing elsewhere and who their friends are. The top may steal the sound of the bottom, but it can never suppress it, and the bottom will always thrive.

For rock'n'roll is made in reaction to society, it always has. Every social movement has its musical connections, and every musical movement can be connected to social and political circumstances. This will go on. Every time a wave of indie becomes popular and glamorous and glorified - much like it is today - there will be the six-string-ripped-jean cavalry ready to burn their shit to ashes. It happened in 1976, it happened in 1982, and in 1991, and in 2002. Well hallelujah, call out the fucking horsemen and hang the middleman. If DIY could exist in 1976 it can bloody well do so in 2009. So do some work, do some research, listen to your friends but think for yourself. Keep your eyes on the spaces, and point them down.. Lets watch what happens in 2010. Just uh, make sure you're not watching Pitchfork.

I'll try and help when I can in my 'Watch that Space' segment. Later in the week I'll do a post with some examples of excellent albums of my generation. And please feel free to disagree with me, not everyone has the same taste - god forbid it - that is what this shit is all about. The more disagreement we have, the more we will be remembered.

The New Sound?

Much has been made of the Horrors new studio release Primary Colours. Why? Because it is an unexpected, and incredible improvement on their debut. But skimming through youtube videos of their recent performances in anticipation of seeing them at Big Day Out, I am becoming a little nervous. I am wondering if the band are at all comfortable with the constraints of their 'new sound'.

Take this example. The first clip here is an older performance of 'Jack the Ripper' from the Horrors first release Strange House. This is very typical of what their reputation was based on before the release of Primary Colours.

Now compare that with an April 09 performance of one of their 'new sound' pieces, Who Can Say.

Don't look nearly as comfortable do they?

I put this partly down to the singer, Faris Badwan. The instrumentalists of the band sound tight, but Faris seems to be clinging to the old way of things. He is singing 'Jack the Ripper' while the rest of the band is playing 'Who Can Say'. I think the band's live performance would improve significantly if he either started actually singing, or become a real frontman instead of just wandering aimlessly around the stage, looking completely lost.

Any maybe they are lost. They look it. They even sound it.

Despite the fact that the new album and the new sound is ... amazing, I hope the band is happy with it. No act should have to put up with producers and labels forcing them to sound like something they are not. If the comparison between these two performances is anything to go by, The Horrors may not be The Horrors anymore.

I find that a little sad.

EDIT: I would also add that I am even more certain of my conclusion after reading the Horrors wiki, especially on how during their early career they used to produce fanzines complete with compilations of other bands. This band, to me, seems designed for the underground... well, perhaps more so than being blinded the bright lights of success.

Some more Thom!

Ok the videos I posted yesterday from Yorke's first show in L.A. were pretty, but this song taken from the second show is freaking gorgeous. The name is floating around something like 'Moon Upon a Stick' I believe. There are more videos from this concert at a Radiohead blog here.

New Thom Yorke Songs

My word Thom Yorke has been a busy boy.

First a new single from Radiohead; then a new cover of Mark Mulcahy's (Miracle Legion) All For the Best with his brother Andy; then a new track, The Present Tense at the Latitude Festival in England; a new band; and now a flurry of new songs performed as an encore at an L.A. concert after performing the entirety of his 2006 album The Eraser. Yum!

Open the Floodgates



Lotus Flower



Skirting on the Surface



Let us hope this ends up in a nice, juicy album.

Watch that space!

I'd like for this to become a constant segment depending on both local talent and how much I get to seek it.

But tonight I saw an amazing up-and-coming band from Auckland called Popstrangers. They're the first act I've seen in a long time that really has their shit together. They're talented, organised, genuine, and boy do they have a drummer in Elliot Rawson. This dude was not only handling inventive and complicated rhythms, but seemed to do what good drummer should: drive the band.

They were a mix of raw post-punk and alternative rock with hints of psychedelia. Wellington is full of bands that seem flitter around for a few months before fading and morphing into something new, and this shows on stage. The opposite is equally visible and Popstrangers looked to be in it for the long haul. They were tight and had obviously spent hours practicing and refining their songs.

I hope they certainly do keep going. With another year or so of touring and writing, these guys could do wonders. I certainly hope to see more of them. Watch that space!

BDO First Announcement

Well fuck me gently with a chainsaw, that ain't half bad. Well, not bitterly disappointing like 2009 was.

Yet for me personally, in 2010 there are only two, maybe three real hooks.

Those are both The Horrors and the Decemberists. The former is incredibly enticing because they've shrugged off their label of worst-fucking-band-in-the-world to produce one of the best albums of the year. Yet I have concerns whether their achievements in the studio will be reflected on the stage. The Decemberists are one of those bands who I have longed to come to New Zealand (or at least BDO) for some time now, but never expected they would. They also have released a blinding album this year. If I do go to BDO, so far it will be only for these two bands.

The rest of the litter are a mob of snoredom rehashes and half hearted interests. Muse are headlining. This would be "yeah, yay... I guess" if their incredibly recent release wasn't incredibly lacking in energy. The Mars Volta are also coming again. They have a mild pull for me, I'm not a 'fan' but I would like to see them. The rest is really a Girl Talk mixup of 07 and 08: Kasabian, Lily Allen, Dizzee Rascal, Powderfinger and... Eskimo Joe? Do they still have fans?

Punk and Metalheads are thus far semi-satisfied with the announcements of Rise Against and Mastadon.

Once again it looks like most of the headlining acts have spilled with the main announcement. And once again it looks like the festival is going to be lacking one major name, or a few little ones to drag me along next year. After all, I have the Pixies in March.

Having said that, I really don't want to pass up a chance to see The Decemberists, even if the tickets are fucking $132 this year. If they chuck in a Cold-War-Kids-or-up in the next announcement, I might be sold.

That guy is a dick....

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New Thom Yorke video

Thom Yorke has joined numerous others in a tribute work to Mark Mulcahy and his associated act of the 1980's called Miracle Legion, called Ciao My Shining Star: a dedication to Mulcahy's departed wife.

Yorke's contribution is a cover of All For the Best with younger brother Andy. It is a truly beautiful work, with a very fitting and moving video.

It can be seen here.

Pixies

Six years ago I stood in the Auckland Town Hall and heard Brian Molko pay homage to one of the greatest rock acts of all time, what he called ''a blueprint for modern rock'', the Pixies. The piercing guitar theme of Where Is My Mind is famous beyond the lovers of alternative rock (if, sadly, only because of the ending credits of Fight Club), and as I watched Placebo perform a searing cover of it I had little knowledge of how profoundly the song would impact on my life.

Once again it was a brother who instigated the great push into the Pixies discography. My fifth form year was absolutely littered with Surfer Rose & Come on Pilgrim (purchased first due to the seventh track being 'Where is My Mind'). I would walk to the train station most days listening to Caribou, Vamos, or Teenage Angst off Placebo's debut, which Ian had purchased at the same time to complete his Placebo collection. Later in the year I participated in a somewhat listliss cover of Where Is My Mind myself with a few friends from my music class. And forever in my mind was cemented an immediate relationship between Placebo and Pixies as I grew up on a diet of both.

Now, in March, the circle will be complete. After six years of personal homage to the gods of alternative rock, they are coming. Six years after seeing Placebo change my life, the Pixies will come to hopefully do the same. At approximately 12:21pm today, those tickets became mine.

A tight group of close friends and eternal Pixies loyalists have been preparing for this day with me, but I don't believe ever dared it would come. We've been attending Proxies - the definitive NZ Pixies cover band (who are actually fuckign awesome) - gigs for what seems like years now, dancing as hard as we could as though our energy we would be pulled closer to the real thing, knowing that a real Pixies experience will never happen.

But now it will.

I would like to say a big Fuck You to ticketmaster for making this supposedly impossible occurance even more impossible. If even one of my friends misses out on tickets because of your shittily designed website and process I will come after you with an army of ninja gummie bears. They'll cut you.

The Music Locker

I've created a rough satellite blog for archiving my music reviews and interviews called The Music Locker.

So far the only stuff up there is what I've written for Salient (though not all of which I wrote for the magazine) but I will be contributing to it as I begin to write again.

Will keep you notified of future posts on here.

Copyright continues...

Sigh. Media and music evolution once again held to ransom by a royalty company, waving yet another bullshit trickel-down payment scheme which, of course, the artist will see maybe a few cents of.

I tire of this.

The Perfect Gig

After reading the amazing setlist Radiohead played at the Reading Festival the other day, I began discussing with a friend what the perfect Radiohead gig would be. This is the setlist I came up with (in order):

Main Set

Everything in its Right Place

Planet Telex

Bodysnatchers

Morning Bell (Kid A)

There There

Street Spirit

House of Cards

Creep

National Anthem

I Might Be Wrong

Karma Police

How to Disappear Completely

No Surprises

Dollars and Cents

Knives Out

2+2=5

Jigsaw Falling into Place

Wolf at the Door

Climbing up the Walls

Encore One

Pckd like Sardines in Crushed Tin Box

Idioteque

Fake Plastic Trees

Encore Two

Exit Music

Paranoid Android

I think this is pretty sound. Thoughts?

Unfortunately, it is apparent to me this is as close as I might ever get to the real thing. Sigh.

Handsome Furs

I was going to write here a short reflection on Handsome Furs, but Ryan at Music etc. sums it up perfectly. From my perspective, it was the second time I'd seen the band, and an entirely new experience.

The atmosphere was electric, but I found I couldn't become entirely engrossed in the spectacle. I always endeavour to become entirely lost in the music whenever a favourite of mine is performing live, but something was holding me back this time, and I'm not sure what it was.

None-the-less, this isn't to detract from the awesomeness of HF's show. I heartily suggest you hunt down their albums.

Noel quits Oasis

One half of what - until a few hours ago - remained of the band that captured the world, Noel Gallagher has left.

I feel some small degree of sadness at this news, but in all honesty this has been coming for years. Many have left before from the utter dysfunctional character of the Gallagher brothers Noel and Liam. Tony McCarroll left after the bands debut Definitely Maybe purely because the rest of the band hated him. The Gallagher brothers, Alan White, Paul McGuigan, and 'Bonehead Arthurs' conquered the charts with (What's the story) Morning Glory?, but the latter three left shortly after the release of Heathen Chemistry.

Since then the only thing making Oasis, Oasis has been the Gallagher brothers. Should Liam have left (not that his ego would allow him to) the character, attitude, and appeal of the band would soften. Should Noel leave, the music would be shit.

Noel has left.

This is much like putting a lame dog out of its misery. I never heard 2006's Dont Stop the Clocks nor last years Dig Out Your Soul, but if reviews are to believed the brakeup is for the better. The last good album the band made was supposedly 2005s Don't Believe the Truth, which I actually like very much.

A lot of good things can be taken from the brakeup. Liam will finally learn his place when he realises how much of a tool he is without Noel. Noel, I'm sure, will continue to become an infamous rock & roll figure. There is little chance of him every discontinuing writing music, he is simply too talented and loves it too much.

I look forward to his future work. Farewall Oasis, hello good times.

I will write a reflection on Oasis in a later post

Six Hours

I've waited for two months, and now am just six hours away from seeing Handsome Furs.

I've done numerous posts over the past weeks citing reasons to love this band and I'm sure after tonight I'll have a hell of a lot more. If you're going, I'll see you there. If not, I'll gush to you all about it after and make you jealous.

XOXO

Gossip Girl

Copyright vs. Music

I just read how the American Justice Department is backing a verdict awarding the RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America) $1.92 million dollars over a house mother who is accused of downloading twenty-four songs from Kazaa.

I know not enough about Law to pick a bone with the US justice system, but what I can have a go at is the overarching, archaic and backward actions of the Recording Industry that are harming more and more music lovers every day.

Copyright laws were originally intended to encourage artists to create. The Berne Convention (1886) proclaimed that copyrights for creative works did not have to be claimed, they were automatically enforced, thus guaranteeing the artist financial return.

This is all well and good for, but technology and society have evolved over the last 120, and the copyright structures of 1886 no longer fit within the digital age.

Copyright laws today are simply security blankets for industry hacks to maintain control over their market, their consumer, and even their clients. But, with concern to illegal music downloading, their actions are somewhat like closing the barn doors after the horses have bolted. The recording industry was caught napping during the rise of the internet, and after they and Lars Urlich sunk their teeth into Napster, it was too late. Control has been gifted back into the hands of the consumer.

Branding downloaders as Pirates, Criminals, holding them alongside so-called 'music loyalists' who buy records, isn't going to work. Because downloaders know they're not pirates. They're sharers. Downloaders look at those advertisements at the start of a DVD, they hear 'would you steal a handbag?', and they think, no I wouldn't steal a handbag from a human being, but I would help to take back control that should be rightfully ours from a billion dollar corporation.

I agree that the artist should be entitled to a return for their work. But that is the Record Industries problem. For I, among many others, believe that the industry are not preparing the guillotine on house-mums to set an example of what happens when you fuck with dem labels bitches (Metallica, or Fall Out Boy, or any artists). The message is 'if you don't bow to the power of the industry, then you will be executed'.

And it seems they have the Government's blessing.

People are going to continue sharing music. Studies have found that those who download the most music, also buy the most albums. It isn't hard to piece this together. It seems, for once, it is the corporations fighting a losing battle against their consumers. Our musicians have woken up to this reality, now our politicians should too.

Dimmer

Taking a moment to post some videos of the Dimmer gig I went to in July.

It always frustrates me when people call them 'boring'. Seeing them in action, I understood that experience does count for something. The confidence, the security, absolute faith and esteem in what they were doing; surely that is Shayne Carter's influence. It's so nice to see a band who doesn't feel like they have to prove anything - it really shows on stage, and it looks awesome.

Our Holy Ritual

First, please consult Jeph Jacques for a few seconds of pre-reading.

There is a ritual I know of that takes place in the weeks preceding an anticipated gig. It is not consciously exercised nor is it established in music discourse, but nonetheless it is present.

I attended my first gig when I was fifteen. It was Shihad, then under the name Pacifier, with Grinspoon and Ejector at the James Cabaret. Since then the venue has become holy turf for me. It was the first time I ever experienced the cold-huddle of smokers outside, the fashionably-late start, the moshers vs. the dancers, and of course it was the first time I got to see experienced gig-goers in action.

Despite common assumption, the mana of the gig-goer is not just some sort of bullshit music cred. Oh no. For there is a gig etiquette floating around a concert like cigarette smoke. It is what seperates the amateurs from the elites. But, happily, it makes the amateurs want to be elites. I for one attended this particular gig with my brother, nine years my senior, who knew and adored Shihad probably more than I ever will. I had a role model, someone to watch, someone to want to be like amongst the the gloomy edges of the mosh pit. As a fifteen year old I got a the best introduction to live music: an example of something to aspire to.

Gigs take experience. You must know when to talk, when to shut up, when to be polite, when you can thrash about, and all while protecting and ensuring the enjoyment of those around you. There have been so many times when I've had to explain to people both 'it's a fucking rock gig, jump around!' and 'it's a fucking rock gig, chill out!'. For example, while I watched Muse amongst an incredibly tight and rowdy audience at the 2007 Big Day Out, the gentleman directly behind me got quite aggresive when I kept standing on his feet. We know the cliche if you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen. If you love music enough to want to stand in the front or middle during a gig, then please be prepared to be pushed around by the chain-reactive movements of the crowd. Otherwise, everyone will hate you more than that over-talkative douchebag in your media 201 lecture.

The walk to the venue can be a pilgrimage. The gig can be a holy ritual. The bruises, strains, and smell afterwards, the evidence of human dedication and sacrifice for what one believes in. I believe this to be the sign of an experienced gig-goer: someone who doesn't give a shit about coming out of the crowd as beautiful looking as when they went in. Kia ora to you my good fellow.

But there is one very cool element I thought about on the bus home tonight: the pre-show preparation. The subconscious ritual I referred to earlier. There are many of us - including a very large proportion of my friends - who express a dedication to a band by making themselves worthy before entering the holy temple of the San Francisco Bathhouse. Daily, they turn to their stereo, fall to their knees and commit themselves to repeat listenings of Explosions in the Sky, Trail of Dead, Metronomy, and recently Handsome Furs. The lyrics must be known so we can mouth them in the moments of intense emotion. Our library must be extended so we are familiar with the bands earlier or more recent albums. The pressure around this aspect of the live experience, I find, is absurd. In the same respect, there is a feeling of disappointment - the kind you feel when you hand in a late essay - at yourself when you go to a gig unprepared. I know I sometimes feel unworthy, but happily it is an isolated emotion than can not be projected onto others in the audience. You alone have your fathers voice in your head saying 'well, now this was your responsibility, so you'll have to organise yourself better in the future'.

Sometimes I feel that Radiohead sells millions upon millions of CDs and holds the 'most listens' spot on last.fm because a world of adoring fans are preparing themselves for the day the Mona Lisa of alternative music finally arrives in their town.

The above are by no means universal attributes to all of those who attend gigs and love music. People come in all shapes and sizes and express their love of music in many different ways. Regardless, I believe what I say about the ritualistic prepartion and participation of gigs.

And I think I kinda like it.