be silent.

Music to believe in

2009-05-09T00:39:00.010+10:00

Back then you could believe the things Peter Garrett said

A recent post on the Hardcore Hampster music blog got me thinking about artists who really wear their heart on their sleeve and songs that you believe every word said.

It’s an interesting question, what actually makes a song sound believable?

Is it the truth in U2's 'I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For', the absolute fury in Zac De La Rocca’s voice as he shouts “Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me” in 'Killing in the Name', or is it the sincerity in Ben Harper’s voice as he screams “I believe in a better way”?

I hear it in 'Jesus Christ Pose' by Soundgarden (and throughout most of Badmotorfinger), but without a doubt it was the missing ingredient in Audioslave (incidentally, taste is the missing ingredient Chris Cornell’s recent solo efforts).

Some would say it’s all about how vulnerable the songwriter makes themselves through the lyrics. But I get shivers every time I hear Van Morrison sing “I will drive my chariot down your street and cry” in 'Sweet Thing', even though I wouldn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. Or try the Cold War Kids - Nathan Willet sings with so much passion that even on songs I don’t like I believe every word. And then there are songs like 'Jeremy' by Pearl Jam, where Eddie Vedder reveals little if anything about himself, but you can’t tell me that’s not a believable song. I would never deny that Jeremy spoke in class that day. A good vocalist can pull sincerity off without having to delve too deep into their own demons.

You don’t even need a good voice. Case in point: Peter Garrett. Who sounds more passionate than our very own Minister for Environment, Heritage and the Arts?

: Dave Grohl: "DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE GUM?"

The common theme throughout most of the music I find believable is yelling. But there’s more to it than strained vocal chords. If it was that simple, I’d be a much bigger fan of the Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl, you can yell as much as you like – it doesn’t make your lyrics any more believable.

At the end of the day, believability is pretty subjective. I hear it in songs like 'The ’59 Sound' by the Gaslight Anthem because I can identify with the themes of death and pain, but I find it noticeably absent in songs like 50 cent’s 'Fuck You', because I'm not a muthafukn gangsta who's been shot nine times in the hood. It’s all a matter of selective exposure. You believe what you want to believe. I’ll never find Nickelback believable simply because I’m just not that big a douche bag. I hope.

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Music to crack Dio jokes to

2009-05-06T22:05:00.011+10:00

Black Sabbath are an institution. I recently interviewed white rapper Necro, he said "Tony Iommi is solely responsible for the entire metal genre". Big call. After not putting out a new studio album since 1995's Forbidden (wasn't it a good idea to get Ice T involved in that?), the band's Ronnie James Dio line-up is getting back together to release The Devil You Know.

The first single from the album, Bible Black has been travelling around the internet and giving the haters something to hate on, and the rest of us something to look forward to. But when a band released their most popular music in the late 70s and early 80s, arguably the glory days of the music industry, will releasing an album now net them enough cash. The record industry has gone to hell. So has the economy. Castles and antique mega-mansions can't be cheap to maintain. Maybe the classic band can approach take a fresh approach to marketing the band. The money's not in music, it's in endorsement. Just look at Snoop Dogg. Getting hip with the new millennium, Ronnie James Dio should create some cash flow with the following endorsements.

RONNIE JAMES DEO

Vanquish the demons in your underarms. Allure the attention of a fair maiden. It's Ronnie James Deo! A fragrant elixir crafted from the cauldrons of wise witches. You'll never have to feel Paranoid about your body odour every again.

D(I)OS

In a long bygone era, both computers and people needed DOS. They would rack their brains trying to figure out exact command prompts to run programs. Now, DOS is a rarely remembered footnote in the history of computing. So from a marketing standpoint it's genius. Both the Disk Operating System and Dio are old and have generally been forgotten about. Together they could recapture silicone valley and make a truckload of money in the process.

DIOCIDE

Legendary death metal band Deicide have never reached the popular acclaim of Sabbath. Maybe that's because they release songs like 'Fuck Your God' or vocalist Glenn Benton proudly displays an inverted cross that he burnt into his forehead, either way the band could use Dio's squeaky clean image to crack the mainstream metal market and for his troubles, RJD could receive adequate compensation.

When Dio came to prominence, the music industry treated rock stars like gods and gave them truckloads of cash. With an entrepreneurial spirit, Dio and the Black Sabbath dudes could once again have trucks full of currency pull up to the moats of their castles.

Music for the uncomplicated smile in all of us

2009-05-05T14:05:00.012+10:00

A scathing review is a lot easier to write then a review which is full of admiration. There seems to be a lot more passion invoked by disparagement as opposed to praise. Yet to my angst there is little criticism I can serve on Okkervil River. I am a fan of the band, man. So with the risk of sounding weak or worse, indifferent, I’ll aim to shoot at Okkervil River straight and true.

I love Okkervil River for their beautifully crafted simplicity. This love was further imbedded in me when their latest album, The Stand Ins, led Okkervil on a tour which hit Brisbane’s The Zoo last Sunday. It need not be mentioned that I was there to see it. And it’s been some time since I’ve watched a gig and been totally overwhelmed with happiness to be there.

Against better judgment I am going to say that the seven piece band have a sound of their own. I would prefer not to say this for several reasons. The first being that as a music critic, to say one band has an individual sound is a very big call. Secondly, the indie-folk sound of Okkervil is not revolutionary in any form. They have been labeled alongside Wilco and Arcade Fire but I disagree. The Decemberists would be the closest musical outfit I would compare with Okkervil River.

No, Okkervil River is not progressively different like Bjork or strange like Ween. They are a self anointed ‘multilevel band’, storytelling with the aid of trumpets, keys, and all kinds of guitars. While Okkervil’s third album, Black Sheep Boy, has a darker rock base, The Stage Names and The Stand Ins have a more upbeat sound which appears simple and happy, even if the lyrics are pushing for complexity in their unvarying satire. This buoyant nature of Okkervil River has identified with somewhere deep within me so I get tremendous enjoyment out of listening to their sound.

Aesthetically this is one geeky band, but they have a fantastic liveliness which made the hour and a half set on Sunday night feel like 20 minutes. Seth Warren was striking, pounding every bit of energy into the drums from the first note played. Front man and primary songwriter Will Sheff did not tire once of lyrically heavy songs such as Singer Songwriter and Lost Coastlines (see Youtube video below).

It was on Sunday night that I discovered Okkervil’s audience is broad. I thought I was one of few who found Okkervil so completely infectious, just because none of my friends know who they are. I was mistaken, with the sold out audience including jiving 50 year old women as well as those lovable little indie kids. The entire audience had a smile like a child’s on Christmas morning.

So it seems that with five albums to their name, Okkervil River is gaining the followers to match their critical success. Well, the critical success they achieved in this blog, anyway. If it’s any compensation to those of you who were after blood, my next blog will be dedicated to Kate Miller Heidke. Just let me at her.

Music to listen to when justifying a bender

2009-05-01T12:56:00.004+10:00

Is it just me, or is there a growing trend of female singers acting like complete trash and earning a lot of money for it? Amy Winehouse, Lily Allen and now the darling Lady Sovereign have all graced our radios with their sordid lyrics and quite frankly, I am so over it.

Lady Sovereign drinks spirits and smokes people’s home-grown. She also might burp in your face and her nose jiggles when she spits. How do I know all this? Because the sweetheart puts it in her lyrics, and wow, hear her roar.

Now I am no sexist; I am a young woman. I live in a young woman’s world and its ok most of the time. However for some reason whenever I tell people I don’t shave under my arms, I don’t get the same reaction that Lady Sovereign does, which appears to be a shitload of coin.

So this is what ‘attitude’ has come to be. Forget politics, human rights and the environment. Lyrics about boyfriends who suck in bed and body hair will get you enough of the shock factor. Enough of the shock factor, that is, to make several stints in rehab acceptable. Even Amy Millan, the sometimes singer of Stars frequents the stage with the just-been-raped look. So who told these girls that trashy was cool? Furthermore, who the hell honestly indulges in this shit?

Oh wait, every teenage girl of the western world.

The unfortunate fact is that these jail-pending, under-fed, drugged-up young women are rich and famous and look like they have a lot of fun. No wonder they’re lives are studied through a microscope. They sell the image as well as the magazines, looking more and more attractive to the average young woman. And no wonder, word on the street is that drugs and booze are fun. Who hasn’t been to a dress up party where there is an Amy Winehouse look-a-like? Teenage girls don’t even need a reason to swear, but these ‘artists’ are writing everything they need to know to become complete embarrassments.

It does need to be mentioned, however, that as a self confessed young woman I am also sick of the ‘experts’ talking about how fragile we all are. Body image and sexual respect were issues bludgeoned into me through my schooling. I completely understand a girl’s desire to laugh at the seriousness of it all and show the man some attitude. We are, against all speculation, a lot tougher than people give us credit for. But this is not attitude. This is the raw desire in every woman to be a complete headcase. Imagine a snarling lion ripping everything in sight to shreds including man, child, and especially woman. Then hoping to be called pretty. That ultimate confusion is the closest resemblance I can think of to the inner cravings of a teenage girl. And this is the closest resemblance I can think of to these so called musicians. But this confusion in a grown woman isn't helping anything, and it certainly isn't the right, or real attitude.

Real attitude seems to be coming from the other side of the globe (I’d like to say hemisphere but alas, geography disrupts my fluency yet again) in the U.S. I speak of Peaches. What a legend. Who else gets naked on stage? Well Lady GaGa maintains she did it once but she can rot in hell for all I’m concerned; she is possibly the worst musician ever. But I digress. Peaches is the first woman artist in my life time to have that much grunt and I adore her for it. Fuck the Pain Away has to be one of my all time favourite songs.

The difference is that while Peaches looks like a complete psycho she pulls through with the goods in terms of her musical prowess. I don’t doubt that somewhere along the line Amy Winehouse had talent. I faintly remember her version of the Zuton’s Valerie being quite good. But that talent seems to have been suffocated by (pick your poison) and not even her messed up antics are interesting anymore. I heard she’s losing money now, finally.

I suppose the moral of the story is take enough drugs and booze to keep people snap happy while maintain enough musical integrity to salvage a half-decent musical career. Have enough attitude to acquire admiration, while not talk about the mindless crap that everyone thinks but doesn’t say- there are reasons for that. My vote goes to Peaches, who appears to have succeeded the fine balance. So remember girls, everything in moderation.

Categorically defining your aural pleasure

2009-04-27T13:46:00.032+10:00

Let me be clear to those of you who can’t spell, I’m talking about the listening variety so you can get your sick dirty minds out of the gutter and take your sexy time elsewhere.

Putting aside the fickleties of genre and accepting that there will inevitably be some crossovers, the civilised world can ultimately be categorised into four types. Well, technically five, but I’m not counting the deaf or hearing impaired. These four types are defined by how they choose to pleasure their ears. For simplicity’s sake, and the fact that I don’t know what music North Koreans listen to, I’m going to focus on defining these categories from a western perspective.

1.
This group of people possess the power of the mob. Some would call them plebs. They are the lazy cretans, ignorant of the diversity and availability of potential ways to indulge their ears. Moreover, they are so single minded that they are sated by the simple and couldn’t be bothered trying something that might taste a little different.

They find meaning in stupid lyrics, claiming them to be witty, deep, or possessing prophetic meaning (see Jordan Sparks 'No Air' or anything by The Cranberries). They have a blind loyalty that is based on tabloid opinion that in turn informs their own opinions.

Unfortunately what is stopping these idiots from their own self destruction is that they tend to have a large buying power. When success in the music industry continues to be measured by how many records an artist sells and how much money they can make, it is this group who determines which artists are pushed, pulled, and signed, or not signed, as the next manufactured formula driven pop sensation. Let the public flogging in the commercial markets begin.

2.
This group of people just aren’t interested. Some would call it playing it safe. They have never taken the time to develop their own aural desires because to them music is simply something to listen to. This group is happy to have their ears enslaved by what the idiot market deem to be worthy.

They often lack in loyalty, or purport a superficial loyalty based on what is in at the time. They let go when the time is past or if the case in point falls out of public favour. Molesting children (see Michael Jackson or Garry Glitter), shaving off their hair (see Britney Spears or Sinead O’Connor), and/or various assault charges (see Chris Brown or Akon) are all sure fire ways to become cases in point.

They have the foresight to occasionally listen to the more slightly left of centre because on the surface there is an appearance of substance (see Dido) or the suggestion of some intellectual complexity or social commentary (see U2). However, this group is ultimately content with shallow unimaginative lyrics that come gift wrapped in repetitive cliché hooks with a pretty card that contains a chorus they can sign a long to. And if the Category Ones are writing your letters to Santa, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.

3.
This group of people seek out their own musical satisfaction. Some would call what they listen to “good” music. They actively and consciously engage with music. They have taken the time to develop their own knowledge and opinions about music and have their own ideas about what is aurally pleasurable.

They don’t immediately accept what is pushed by the commercial industry, but don’t reject it outright either. They are willing to listen and assess what is promoted by the Category Ones. They consider the potential merit of this music and more often then not they come back empty handed. But not disheartened.

They don’t reject bands based on principle simply because they find popularity, financial success, or mainstream commercial airplay (see Category Four). They stick with an artist/band as they evolve and have a genuine interest in the past, present, and future of their music as long as the aural pleasure continues. They don’t care if their tastes fall in and out of fashion (see David Bowie or The Rolling Stones) because their loyalty and fandom will continue despite the waxing and waning of point in time popularity.

This group is into inventive and creative music that hasn’t lost its sense of fun and is still composed with the humble intention of pleasing listeners. They look for music with appeal that goes beyond music for the masses or music for the sake of music. They listen to what they want to listen to and yes, this category is the most diverse and subjective.

4.
This group of people have their own niche cliques. Some would say they epitomise music snobbery. They respect no one elses’ opinion but their own and the opinions of their select circle of friends. They revel in pretentious ego-stroking wankery and the back slapping that comes with their marvelling at their own magnificence of their own musical taste.

The music they like are artists/bands you never will have heard of. Well, unless you’re a Category Four. The music they listen to may include The Gin Club, Fleet Foxes, The Drones, Bon Iver, The Necks, Villains of Wilhelm, and/or The Kill Devil Hills. Well, actually that was the music they may have listened to once-upon-a-time ages-and-ages-ago. Now these cases in point have been tipped off to the public and become a little too in-vogue, they have been snubbed unceremoniously by their once so-called fans from Category Four.

They are the ones who go to gigs and stand stoically because bopping along disrupts their ability to “fully appreciate” the music. They’re most likely bored out of their brains but feign enjoyment and join the vain rave at the end of the show at just how absolutely delightfully obscure it all was. They don’t have the backbone to speak up and out about what they really like for fear that their actual opinion will destroy their illusion of cool and they will be rejected by the group.

They take their music “seriously”. By principle the music they listen to, or find it acceptable to listen to, can not be commercial and must never attain financial success. Their loyalty is fickle and artists are frequently dropped at the first signs of minor success, like getting your name on a tour poster or an article in Wikipedia. Oh, and did I mention at least one member of the band must have a beard? Yes, even if it’s an all female band.

Are my ears burning?
Yes. I'm arrogant enough to admit I consider myself as part of Category three. I don’t know any deaf people, but I do have friends in every one of the other categories. You probably do to. I just don’t bother discussing music with anyone outside my own category. Just like the people in Category One or Category Four. As for the Category Twos, I expect they’ve got other more important things than music to talk about. So why categorise? I like making ontological distinctions, discriminating against the hearing impaired, and I always won categories as a kid.

Where Rock Out With Your Cock Out Originated

2009-04-26T13:43:00.011+10:00

Eagles of Death Metal shamelessly embrace tight pants, loose women, and hook-driven choruses. They epitomise the fact that you don’t have to take yourself seriously to seriously rock out. Sure they might not be your all-time-favourite band, but EODM sure do put on an entertaining live show.

Fresh from their release of Heart On, they opened the Australian leg of their world tour to a sold-out crowd at The Tivoli. It was EODM’s first Brizvegas gig since their 2007 St Patrick’s Day show at The Arena where Boots Electric, aka frontman Jesse "The Devil" Hughes, dropped all pretences and humbly declared he’d never played a show so great to a crowd so awesome (or along those lines).

This time round they weren’t riding on the boozed-up enthusiasm that comes with St Pats, the fervour of the crowd wasn’t amplified by the echoes of The Arena, and most noteably Hughes was sans superhero cape. Nevertheless we were ready for rock and roll, and true to form EODM rocked out in their obscene hybrid of garage glam revival to an eager audience full of grinding, clapping, stomping, and cheering. Hell, I got vomited on in the crowd by some pissy kid who couldn’t hold his liquor and still managed to have a peachy-keen time.

Boots Electric’s performance was charismatic as always, radiating with all the self-assured swagger and cocksure grinning he could muster from under his rose coloured aviators and 70’s cop moustache. He proudly led the enviable tour line-up of ultra-cool and incredibly talented drummer Joey "The Sexy Mexy" Castillo, the always young at heart "Darlin'" Dave Catching on guitar, and the less known bricky-turned-bassist Brian "Big Hands" O'Connor. Shamelessly utilising EODM's ties to Queens Of The Stone Age talent seemed only fitting given the absence of Hughes's partner in crime Josh "Baby Duck" Homme.

The set was a welcome mix of old and new EODM pure, adulterated debauchery. The new included the glorious Rolling Stones-esque 'Anything ('Cept The Truth)' and smooth harmonies of 'Cheap Thrills', coupled with the tongue in cheek 'Wannabe In LA' and the audacious new title track 'Heart On'. The old kept the audience pumping and thumping with 'I Gotta Feelin (Just Nineteen)' and 'I like to Move in the Night' and of course the unforgettable 'I Want You So Hard'. Even 'Cherry Cola' made it into the encore, leaving the audience on a high as Boots Electric and Sexy Mexy finally departed and the ugly lights were turned back on.

The only disappointment was a brief but flashy cover of the Stone's 'Brown Sugar' that they also played at the St Pats gig, and a lot of their other gigs, choking up the realisation that this one didn’t even go close to raising the bar they set back in 2007. Oh, and this time it was the day before Anzac Day which meant everywhere was closing at midnight and there was nowhere to rock on to after the show. I still made the best of it, rocking on in the cab on the way home, smelling like vomit, but still grinning after a night of energetic entertainment.

Music to define you (for 18 seconds)

2009-04-20T14:49:00.015+10:00

: Personalised ringtones might have saved Warnie some troubles

I’m not the kind of person who stands in front of their mirror for an hour before they leave the house, constantly changing outfit. I’m more the slap it on and see what happens type. But when it comes to phone ringtones, I’m more self-conscious than Kevin Rudd in a New York strip club. I get nervous, indecisive and occasionally break out into a cold sweat.

I’m guessing most people don’t aren’t quite as pedantic, but surely I’m not the only one who deliberates for days, determined to find the perfect 18 seconds of ringing to convey where they’re at in life?

Since the advent of the cellular phone, monophonic classics like the 'Mexican Hat Dance' made way for polyphonic classics like the Violent Femmes' 'Blister in the Sun', which eventually led to mp3 classics like the 'Captain Planet theme song'.

When you consider the endless possibilities, you’ve got to wonder why so many people choose generic, mundane tones. You can tell a lot about a person based on their ringtone or message tone – for example:

: Polyphonic hell

Anyone with a 'Crazy Frog' or 'Hamster Dance' ringtone is clearly a wanker.
The screaming “message....message...MESSAGE!” message tone that gets progressively louder indicates that person will probably become progressively more irritating
Homemade recordings (like children laughing, or something just as painful for everyone but the owner) could well signify a self obsessed narcissist
'Low' by Flo Rida or 'Superman/Crank dat' by Soulja Boy are probably worse than Crazy Frog. Avoid this person at all costs.
A ringtone of 'Strawberry Kisses' by Nikki Webster is a federally endorsed means of identifying paedophiles

I decided late last week that Thirsty Merc’s cover of Cold Chisel’s 'My Baby' had run its course. It was time for a change of soundscape.

The criteria:

It must be loud
It must contain an 18 second hook
It must be recognisable without being mundane

A lot of the time ringtones and message tones are all about novelty. That’s why I like using cover songs – interesting at first, but any more than 18 seconds and you’re usually sick of it and would rather hear the original. While some people choose to have personalised tones for people in their address book, unless you’re Shane Warne, it’s really not necessary.

My eventual choice of ringtone was 'Rubidoux' by the Cold War Kids. It’s energetic, distinctively Cold War Kids and has great lyrics.

: Big girls wear pull-ups

While I was in the mood for change, I figured it was a good time to experiment with a new message tones as well. There are some hard and fast rules around the use of message tones. Most importantly, they have to be kept short. I once worked with a middle-aged lady, who like an early 90s geek would load their geocities website full of flashing text and basketball-cursors, had not got a grip on the practicalities of the technology and had set Fergie’s 'Big Girls Don’t Cry' as her message tone. All 4 minutes and 28 seconds of it. Every time she got a message. Kill me now.

Admittedly, I’m experimenting with a message tone that goes for a whopping 8 seconds (7 longer than it really should). It has no real relevance to the text message medium, but it brings a smile to my face every time I hear it (check it out in the media player below).

PS. Who would ever buy a ringtone? They cost around $3-5. You can buy the (full) track from iTunes for $1.70...

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Music to Listen to While Sleeping

2009-04-20T12:45:00.015+10:00

Have you ever fallen asleep wearing headphones? Apparently, it happens to people so much, entrepreneurs sell things like this. Having fallen asleep to everything from Scandinavian black metal to early 90s gangsta rap, I've compiled a list of my three favourite records to sleep to.

3. KYUSS- Sky Valley

The quintessential Kyuss line-up's only album before imploding. Sky Valley is perhaps the album most responsible for the post-humorous popularisation of Josh Homme's pre-Queens progeny. An ode to the nothingness of the desert, the genius of the Homme/Brant Bjork writing team was finally realised on Sky Valley. Tracks like 'Demon Cleaner' and 'Supa Scoopa and Mighty Scoop' are neo-lulabies for the disaffected hoardes of Gen Xers, John Garcia's hypnotic wail drawing you ever closer to the land of nod.

2. Melvins- Lysol

Fuck Mike Patton. The Melvins are the founders of modern day alternative music. Before Mike Patton signed these dudes to Ipecac, hell, before Kurt Cobain got these guys on Atlantic, they ruled. Lysol stands up as one of the very few one-song-albums that doesn't come across pretentious or overly self-indulgent, the Melvins' mellowness will convince you to lie down, if only for a minute. Interweaving anarchronistic covers of Alice Cooper and Flipper, Lysol is the Melvins devoid of the monolithic sound featured on the Houdini albums. I'm generally out like a light before Buzz utters the immortal first line of Flipper's Sacrifice "Can you hear the war cry/It's time to enlist".

1. Sleep- 'Dopesmoker'

You know a band's legit when they name themselves after a verb. If I had to guess Sting would be spiky as a pineapple and Rush would be running around, slightly behind schedule with a million things to do. Sleep's magnum opus Dopesmoker is like a rohypnol/valium drug cocktail, that shit will leave you unconcious. If the 10 minute intro (the album is one song long, that song clocks in at 63 minutes) of reverberating guitar chords and behind the beat drums doesn't lull you into submission, Matt Pike's eventual vocals that sound like a Tibetan monk in the grips of a major weed psychosis will surely have you reaching for a pillow.

Mungo van music critic

2009-04-20T11:58:00.010+10:00

What kind of music critic are you?
Lazy, infrequent, and not all that insightful.

Who for?
4Zzz gives me free tickets & preview Cds, I write up my reactions on the blog.

Do you write about anything other than music?
Have done personalised gig guides in the past, but not much lately. Low/ No readership tends to sap your enthusiasm for that sort of thing.

How do you critique music?
The main thing I try to keep in mind is what I want to read. I dunno, it is important give things a human element, but there's so much hyperbolic writing out there that, apart from expressing the writers enthusiasm, say shit all about the subject. They don't explain why the different albums/artists/ singles are different compared to others in the genre, or fall back on lazy 'sounds like's.

I try to separate & pay attention to the individual elements of a song (IE vocals, bass, guitars, drums etc), think about their relationships and tensions, where the structures divert from the norm of the genre, and the overall effect.

But then I never can come up with anything that quite conveys it, and say "oh this kinda sounds like xxx, but not". So bully for that last paragraph.

What kind of music do you cover?
Ah, whatever gets chucked my way mostly.

Do you have a choice in the music you cover?
Not really, which can be interesting. Because my writing is held against 4zz's name, I can't be overly pithy or mean, due to defamation laws, not wanting to damage ZzZ's relationship with organisers/ labels etc. But it's good, stops me from being too lazy, and makes me explain my point diplomatically.

Why do you critique the music you do?
The opportunity is there to experience new bands and discover new sounds, with people enabling you to do it for free. It's not too hard of a choice to make personally.

Why do you critique music?
To be embarrassingly frank: I dropped out of school when I was 15, so have no real qualifications/ "book smarts". I write to show myself that I can, just as well as the next person. Music is an area I feel confident in my knowledge, so I'm starting to write about that, eventually building up my skills to a point where I'm confidant in tackling Uni.

Do you receive much feedback from your readers?
Nothing constructive, just faint praise.

Where do you fit in with other music critics?
One of a million other isolated voices, muttering quietly to themselves in the internet.

What is your opinion of other music critics, do they have influence?
Absolutely. Have been reading a lot of Julian Cope lately, who has a very thorough but casual writing style, and is able to give context to the music he talks about by talking about the artists lives and environments, and describes music in a way that sounds like nothing you've heard, which drives you to seek it out. I'd like to capture a little bit of that.

Do you think music critics are as important as they were 20-30 years ago to the music industry?
I believe that they're as important as ever, but that the quantity of bloggers drowns out some voices out there.

What, in your opinion, is the role of the music critic in 2009?
Honesty and passion, that treats artists with due regard but not reverence. But that's always been in high demand and low supply.

What advice would you give someone who wants to be a music critic?
How the fuck should I know? I need the advice.

Mud Wrestling Is Better Than The Blues

2009-04-20T08:38:00.007+10:00

Bluesfest is about more than just the headlining act. But when the headlining act stinks more than five days worth of churned up mud it’s still a big disappointment. Yes, that’s right, Ben Harper sucked.

Harper headlined the mojo (main) stage on Saturday and Monday night of this year’s festival. He opened both nights to a crowd so packed it was just as suffocating outside the tent as inside. It was a crowd that was happy to ignore the continuous downpour of rain and the knee-deep festering mud as they eagerly awaited the arrival of said superstar. Before the set was even half over the enthusiasm had waned. You could walk freely under the tent, and most people were more entertained by groups of people mud wrestling outside. Myself included.

Old Ben is not yet forty and has been on the music scene for over fifteen years now, so I don’t think I can attribute age or ability to the fact that he has totally lost touch with what makes a good live set. There was no 'Shimmer and Shine' to his performance. He looked like a man who didn’t want to be there, simply going through the motions.

What made it worse was he didn’t even play songs the crowd new. It was the same set both nights. There was no 'Diamonds on the Inside', no 'Brown Eyed Blues', no 'Better Way', no 'Both Sides of the Gun', and not even 'Fight Outta You' made a play. The focus was entirely on his upcoming album White Lies for Dark Times. Maybe it’s because he’s playing with Relentless7 now instead of The Innocent Criminals, but it’s news to me that there is a rule stating just because you’ve got a new band you can’t play your old stuff. Wake up and smell the mud Mr Harper, it’s all over your face. You’re at bluesfest, not a promo tour for your latest album that hasn’t even hit the shelves.

Perhaps it should have been expected. Ben Harper has always done things his way. He’s wrapped up in his own world of music, playing what he wants, when he wants, and is applauded for it. I think it’s selfish. Good music is about more than being a talented singer/songwriter/guitarist. Especially when you’re playing live. It’s about being able to share your music with your fans in a way that will resonate with them. Sure you can’t call him a sell-out, but I’m amazed he manages to sell out concerts when he drags himself on stage with no energy or charisma and then plays a full set of songs that nobody knows and nobody cares about.

While smearing Olay Total Effects on your face

2009-04-16T14:25:00.006+10:00

I realise that I am slowly receding into the past with my music of choice. And yes, I also realise that any reader who was actually alive in the 60’s and 70’s (my mother included) would harrumph at me: “You weren’t there Jo; you have no idea what the time was like”. Well sue me for appreciating the somewhat distilled moments of other generations. Thanks to MY generation, I can Google, YouTube and iTunes the shit out of the Baby Boomers and choose whatever tickles my fancy. Furthermore, with Leonard Cohen’s recent tour hitting Brisbane, The Who having just left Australia and Simon and Garfunkel on their way; who could blame me for wanting to retreat into the past with Bob Dylan.

And while we’re in the 40-50 year old bracket, I decided to spin my iTunes to Dylan while applying anti-ageing cream to my face. Olay Total Effects, to fight the seven signs of ageing. I’m only 20, and have since realised that intense anti-ageing cream actually burns your face if you don’t need it. However, my logic seemed mentally sound at the time; the earlier I start with the creams, the longer I stay looking young. So yes, in hindsight, I was very wrong.

But I don’t think I am wrong in feeling I have the right to appreciate the artists of my parent’s generation. And I am not the only one. 10 albums under the Bob Dylan trademark have been released since 2000. The most recent, Together through Life, was released this year. 52 Bob Dylan albums have been released since his first self titled album debut in 1962. My particular playlist are the tracks from 1995’s MTV Unplugged, which includes All Along the Watchtower and The Times They Are A-Changin’.

I think there might be a market out there for Bob Dylan's music.

And really, this is not a dig at current popular music. I am just as happy to listen to anything on the radio, as long as it’s not shit. I do however find there is a definite magic about the music of the last 60’s and 70’s. This magic is helped by the images of Woodstock and the glorified stories of my parents singing songs of protest in marches, with the subtle insinuations that they were completely stoned at the time. They make it all seem a lot more important than any grasp we have on our own lives today.

In fact, I blame my parents for my love of nostalgia. Even though I never experienced flesh and blood moments pre1989, the music makes me all fuzzy inside and I have this intense urge to be apart of that time in history. Oh yeah, and I really like them as well.

See Mum, it’s your fault! But you can have your Olay back it was crap.

Music to inspire rubix cube success

2009-04-06T12:58:00.014+10:00

Maybe it was Lawrence Leung’s Choose Your Own Adventure that got me in the mood to play with a rubix cube again, or maybe it was just that the looming tension between the cube and I could go on no longer. I’ve never been able to solve one and it’s always pissed me off. Yeah, I’m sure I could look it up on YouTube and work it out in 5 minutes, but it’s just not the same...

I’ll be honest, I still haven’t solved it – but I did get bloody close, and the fact I didn’t get there had nothing to do with a lack of soundtrack. I suppose it’s testament to the over-the-top pomp and circumstance romanticism to which I ascribe the rubix cube that I chose Muse’s absurdly anthemnic ‘Uno’ to accompany my efforts.

With each twist and turn, I could feel Matthew Bellamy urging me on. I could be number one! Replace the blue with red, focus on the centrepiece. I could rule the whole world! Slide, rotate and repeat. I was having so much fun! But in the end, I threw it all away.

My mind has an arse, and it was kicked hard by a rubix cube. But I don’t care. It means nothing to me.

For Wine and Old Formal Dresses

2009-04-06T12:35:00.013+10:00

I was born in the 80’s, 1989 to be specific. Which until recently was a ‘Thank god, I don’t have pictures of me wearing white overalls and a scrunchy at my 17th birthday- DAMN THE 80s!- moment. But wait, what’s this? 80s is retro now? Shit.

Lucky for me Cyndi Lauper and The Go Go's are closet favourites. My love for them comes in right alongside my love for Romy and Michell's Highschool Reunion. However these nostalgic I-wasn’t-born-yet-but-I-should-of-been classics are usually only cracked out after a few wines with friends, alluring us to my wardrobe and trying on all my old formal dresses. Oh please, like we’re the only ones. Only then, when the dress(s) are on and we are dancing in my room to Whip It, can I really achieve a Pretty in Pink moment and party like its 1986. Whip it good.

However, on my recent travels through, oh I don’t know, Chelmer, I came across a song. It was on album number four of Triple J’s Like a Version compilations. It was by Saosin. It was a cover of Cyndi Lauper’s Time After Time. It rocked.

I’ve always been hesitant about covers. I usually find covers are just an artist's excuse to strip back a hit song of another artist. Somehow, they think their version will sound more deep and meaningful. And yes, sometimes that works. I’ve never appreciated Beyonce’s Crazy In Love more than I did when I heard The Magic Numbers’ rendition. Their haunting harmonies actually made Crazy in Love sound musical; instead of another bootylicious princess pop song.

Most covers, however, are not as effective. Artists, instead of moulding their musicianship to the song, mould the song to their own taste and the original gets lost altogether. A prime example of this is Angus and Julia Stone’s cover of Chumbawumba's Tubthumping. I did not think that such a distinctive (and ghastly, I might add) song could ever lose its identity. But it happened, with the Stone duo stripping it back so much that it sounded just like all their other songs, and nothing like the original. Who wants that??

Well, I do actually because I hate Tubthumping. But I love Time after Time. You just can’t deny that it is a good song. I’ll agree it’s been killed a bit. I blame singing teachers and their staple favourite songs for that. But Saosin manage to make the song sound current while retaining the melody. Saosin front man Cove Reber actually makes it sound sort of sexy, and less prom night with chiffon. An impressive feat for someone so boy-band I would usually cringe at the sight of them. Finally! The next generation of artists are matching the next generation of scrunchy wearers!

P.s. I promise I’ll never, ever say bootylicious again.

Music to listen to when you want to remember your friends just the way they are

2009-04-06T11:25:00.008+10:00

"Do you remember the time, we first met?"

I will never again be able to listen to Michael Jackson's 1992 hit, Remember the Time without hearing the voice of a close friend. A friend who will soon no longer be with us. His voice was hoarse; each word delivered with so much pain it almost brought a tear to my eye.

"Do you remember the time, when we fell in love?"

Bravely, he struggled through the hurt to give me a message he so desperately wanted me to hear.

"Do you remember the time, we first met?"

“I will kill you. Don’t doubt me. I know you’ll get married soon enough, and I will kill you on your buck’s night. I will get my revenge.”

"Do you remember the time, when we fell in love?"

It was kind of hard to take him seriously, given the amount of spit and pop-rock lube caught up in his beard. There was something bittersweet in seeing my most formative role model be wrapped from head to toe in a body-length condom and a couple hundred metres of heavy-duty plastic wrap, struggling to avoid the torments of his closest friends. Ah, the joy of buck’s nights.

"Do you remember the time?"

With the film clip reeling in at over nine minutes, MJ’s soulful epic was the perfect background to the debauchery of the night. For nine minutes, he fought. For nine minutes, he struggled to avoid various sex toys. For nine minutes he screamed with all the strength he could muster his intentions for revenge. It’d be easy to say we defiled Michael Jackson’s music that night, but sadly, he defiled his own music a long time ago now.

Sorting through cat poop for coffee beans

2009-04-04T10:48:00.007+10:00

The first time I listened to C. W. Stoneking I didn’t think it was possible that that sort of sound could come from a white man. Surely that bluesy jazz with a twist of Caribbean calypso can only come from a black man? I was about as surprised as the first time I heard that the world’s most exclusive coffee comes from the excrement of a small Indonesian mammal that looks like a cat.

It’s true. The most expensive coffee in the world, Kopi Luwak, is made from coffee berries that have been fed, digested, and defecated by an Asian Palm Civet. It is claimed that a civet’s stomach enzymes add to flavour of the coffee. Here I was thinking people just enjoyed drinking shit.

Vietnam, Malaysia, and other parts of Southeast Asia all have similar coffee farming practices. So if Kopi Luwak is not unique, what’s the novelty value? The answer to this question is as beyond me as the reason people listen to the overly polished pop princess jingles of Miley Cyrus and Beyoncé. Then again, they’re probably the same people who think eggs are a chicken’s period.

As for C. W. Stoneking, his take on hokum blues emerged on the Australian commercial music scene in 2006, about 70 years too late to ever be chart toppers. His music has a clammy humidity that swelters in the mind conjuring simple deliriums like sitting in an old wooden rocking chair watching the world go by. The heavy layering of comedic farce makes it impossible to take old C. W. seriously, but at the very least leaves you intrigued. To me he is one of those rare coffee beans found among the kitty litter. I expect his music might even bring a smile to the rest of us who are trawling through poop all day in order to serve the rich white class a $50+ cup of coffee.

Battle hymns to scream when going to war with Centrelink

2009-04-02T20:17:00.015+10:00

1. Black Flag- 'Rise Above'

So you've just applied for some form of government assistance, you've heard that Centrelink is a shitstorm. When I applied, I was told "don't ask them what you can get, tell them what you need". When filing an application you tell yourself that you won't be dragged down to the level of the narrow-minded pen pushers and snivelling bureacrats, just like Greg Ginn and co did on the first track of their first full-length, Damaged. Henry Rollins tearing out his throat to convey a sermon of turning the other cheek, determination and mental strength is as pertinent today applied to the context of dealing with a government organisation as it was in '81 when LA punks were victimised by the city's police. For those who demand a bit more flavour from their war chants, Rollins re-recorded the song with the help of Public Enemy's Chuck D.

2. Agoraphobic Nosebleed- 'Die and Get the Fuck Out of the Way'

Like a sleazy lothario, Centrelink hasn't called long after it promised it would. You're acutely pissed off, then you call them and that's when you really start to understand what all your friends warned you about. When you call, you get put on hold. And left on hold. When you finally talk to someone, they transfer you. You get put on hold again. When you talk to someone who knows anything about your case, they inform you that someone has forgotten to get you to fill out a form or hand in a document. Because you need to understand, dealing with Centrelink employees isn't the same as dealing with regular humans. And this means that their failure to do so will force you to return to a Centrelink office.

3. Slayer- 'Raining Blood"

Slayer's 1986 classic pumps through the veins of every disgruntled person that enters a Centrelink office, even if those people have never heard the song. Entering with a maniac bloodlust and a desire to splash internal organs over the beige walls and cheap carpet, the applicant is forced to take a seat, only then do they realise they're "Trapped in purgatory/A lifeless object, alive". As the uncomfortable chair you're sitting in kneeds your buttocks and contorts your spine, you begin to grow engrossed in the soap operas on a nearby television set, only to realise that "Awaiting the hour of reprisal/Your time slips away".

Though from the weeks and months of agitation, annoyance and encounters with arseholes, your plight is recognised and Centrelink begin to deposit money into a bank account for you. Although there's an ever-present fear that the slightest change in your situation could start the entire process again, you form an uneasy truce with Centrelink, because you're paid in full.

Music to listen to after watching Two and a Half Men.

2009-03-30T12:09:00.014+10:00

You know it’s lowest common denominator-type stuff. You know it’s predictable, filled with cheap laughs and there’s something about Charlie Sheen that is even sleazier than Charlie Harper. But sometimes you’ve just got to push back that voice inside your head telling you western civilisation is taking a backwards step every time you laugh at Jake farting and just enjoy the show. It’s a bit like Ben Lee.

These days Ben’s albums aren’t even pretending to possess a semblance of artistry. They’re so short, simple and inoffensive I can taste bubblegum in my mouth when I listen. But there’s something refreshingly unpretentious about an artist who is unapologetic about his desire to write simple, catchy songs.

To say songs like ‘I love pop music’ are radio-friendly is to disregard the state of modern radio. Perhaps “wireless-friendly” is a more apt description. His music does seem to be more popular with Madonna King than Kyle and Jackie-O.

It wasn’t always this way for Lee, who began his career 16 years ago in Noise Addict. Early albums Something to Remember Me By, Breathing Tornadoes and hey you. yes you, cheekily bastardised pop conventions and experimented with instrumentation and modality without ever pushing the envelope too far.

Admittedly I stopped buying his CDs after Awake is the New Sleep. As a teenager the middle-class brand of whiney angst dominating 'Cigaretters will Kill You', 'I am a Sunflower', 'No Room to Bleed' and 'music 4 the young & foolish' resonated with me in the same way Silverchair’s grungier angst did. I guess Ben Lee and Silverchair both just outgrew their torment. Ben Lee found enlightenment and Daniel Johns found...well, Paul Mac?

I can’t see myself listening to much Ben Lee anymore. I suppose I’m just a little frightened if I do, I’ll catch his disease and spend the rest of my life roller-skating around the house, malted strawberry milkshake in hand, only stopping to watch Two and a Half Men before bedtime at 8:30pm.

Music to listen to when eating Burger Rings

2009-03-25T17:26:00.011+10:00

Maybe it's because I'm poor and you can buy two packets for two dollars at the local supermarket, but lately my snack of choice has been Burger Rings, the delicious o-shaped chip that tastes, by no stretch of the imagination, anything like a hamburger. Something about this snack sends me on a shame spiral of nostalgia to the 90s. So when I went to the cupboard to get my hit of fat and cholesterol, my mind wandered to Wiseblood, a quintessential embodiment of the 1990s alt rock scene.

From their salad days as a punks from North Carolina in the 80s, Corrosion of Conformity rode the grunge metal wave to major label success after vocalist/guitarist Pepper Keenan injected some New Orleans' groove on the Blind album. Though the move saw them labelled henious sell-outs by some, C.O.C.'s new direction saw critical and commercial success on the Deliverance album. Their next effort, Wiseblood, saw the band combine the anger of Pantera, the melancholy of Alice in Chains, the groove of Jane's Addiction and the stadium friendly riffs of post-Justice Metallica (James Hetfield even has a guest vocals spot on 'Man or Ash') to create a rock and roll riff-monster that could have only been conceived in the 1990s.

A product of apathy, bong hits and laughably corny artwork, Wiseblood is C.O.C. using every trick in the book to make an album saturated with funky hooks, groovy riffs and killer beats. Tracks like 'The Door' and 'Long Whip/Big America' are driven by groovy riffs, loose basslines and badly modulated vocals. 'Goodbye Window' and 'The Snake has No Head' are simple exercises in the post-Nirvana loud/soft dynamic. Hell, in the video for Grammy nominated cut 'Drowning in a Daydream', between all the shitty visual effects and blurry shots of gas masks, Pepper even manages to LOOK like a cross between Kurt Cobain and Jared Leto. 'Man or Ash' sees lead guitarist Woody Weatherman use spicy licks to over-power Keenan's molases-thick rhythms. As the album draws to a close, contemplative closers 'Redemption City' and instrumental 'Bottom Feeder (El Que Come Abajo)' show the band's sensitive side and round out an album, that 13 years on, still proves that an album can be an obvious amalgam but still undeniably rule. Just like no one can hold it against Burger Rings that they taste nothing like their namesake. Because for Burger Rings, and C.O.C., the delicious finished product has always been too good to scrutinise the ingredients.

Music to listen to when you're not living under a rock

2009-03-24T11:33:00.013+10:00

I love Bloc Party. I love people who love Bloc Party. I love people who love people who love Bloc Party. I understand where they're coming from! But for those who don’t know people who love Bloc Party, I’ll do my best to spread the gospel.

You may call Bloc Party dance rock, and yes, it's techno to a degree. But much too instrumental to be techno pop, mind you. Don’t you dare call them techno pop. I resentfully admit that there are a lot of Bloc Party dance remixes, which don’t help my cause- DJ Armond Van Helson’s remix of Signs being the most well known on international dance floors. That Bastard.

The game of “Sounds Like” has been won by Chemical Brothers and to a lesser extent Basement Jaxx today. That is, if you believe any of the reviews I’ve read and desired a prelude…

Bloc Party’s front man, a Mr. Kele Okereke has an incredibly distinguishable voice. Pitchy and full, it sounds like he's exorcising desperation from his stomach on every line. I can admit that in any other context Okereke’s voice would annoy the shit out of me. But his sound-like-he’s-on-the-verge-of-crying warbles work within the context of Bloc Party's quartet. The preacher-passionate throw of vocals are a refreshing and eclectic change from the robotic sounds coming from other dance music: I LIKE ELECTRO, HOUSE AND TECHNO Sssshhh!

And when the skies open and you finally hear an original Bloc Party song- the depth of instrumentation will be what warms your cold, cold heart. Always ones for the beat of the drum and the strum of the guitar, Bloc Party have taken these guiding principles to greater lengths in their new album, Intimacy.

Some have complained that Intimacy is not the original Bloc Party sound. I see where they are coming from, there is a lot less simplicity and the album reeks of over-processed, digital recording. However while it takes a few songs, in time you can really sink your teeth into it. I assume the reason for the processed sound is the layer upon layer of guitar, keyboard and drum rhythms, creating a darker and fuller sound. But I find the darkness quite rich and very attractive, like more (yes, that’s right) intimacy is required when listening to the album to figure out it’s secret. It’s confession, even…

Some may say the album is a cop out, but whenever I listen to it I say thank god.

Grind. Smoke. Sleep. Brutal Truth are back from a 10 year hybernation.

2009-03-23T15:34:00.006+10:00

Buzz about grind legends Brutal Truth's first full-length album since 1997's Kill Trend Suicide has been growing ever since the weeded-out grinders announced in 2006 they were reforming. When word about Evolution Through Revolution began to surface late last year, speculation began to spread quicker than the Collaterial Damage video clip. Could the band live up to their previous glory? Would the replacement of riff machine Brent McCarthy with Erik Burke hamstring the band's uncompromising riff-based sound?

From what has been heard of Evolution Through Revolution (due out April 20 through Relapse), the ten years have in no way blunted the band's genius. Sure, Kevin Sharp looks A LOT more like a transient and whisps of grey are creeping in to Dan Liker's impressive mat of chest hair. But after 10 years, Brutal Truth still rule.

It's not me, it's her.

2009-03-23T15:22:00.008+10:00

According to the one and only, Lily Allen hates being a pop star. Apparently the fame and fortune stops her practicing safe sex, with the pappies snapping her everywhere including her local chemist. But if she really is going to throw it all away (like madam says she is) and open a cake shop, her latest album isn’t telling this reviewer to hold her breath.

If you are like me, and up to your Lily Allen limits with the radio-raped singles The Fear and Everyone’s At It, don’t think the album will provide anything resembling a breath of fresh air. Back away. Seconding Alright, Still, The 12 track It’s Not Me It’s You oozes the typical Lily Allen sound. Chiming her voice through the usual paradoxical vulgar and angry lyrics may not be old to some but I’m hanging out for the day her voice varies an octave. Amusingly, before the release of the latest album, Queen Lily Myspaced her fans about her new direction, saying “I did a retro thing last time, and since I did that, a lot of other people did it too. I wanted to separate myself from the group and move forward". You know when under complete scrutiny the drum machine behind most tracks does have a more electropop sound, as opposed to the poprock sound of album number one. Touché Ms Lily.

But who could blame the darling! With all her sufferings from the slings of arrows of OUTRAGEOUS fortunes, the formula works! Alright, Still sold 2.6 million copies and reached international and critical acclaim with nominations at the BRIT, MTV and Grammy awards. So she rolled it out again and It’s Not Me It’s You debuted at number one in the UK, Canada and Australia, number two in Europe and number five in the US.

And I for one can definitely see the appeal. Sweet sounding music with fuck you lyrics goes down nicely as a poor, journalism student. It’s very easy to listen to; I’m listening to it right now! Just an afterthought…It also sounds very easy to make. A+B=C…Somehow I don’t think Lily Allen will be disappearing for a while.

You Choose YouTube

2009-03-23T12:15:00.006+10:00

What is the world coming to when the most viewed clip on YouTube is Avril Lavigne's video clip Girlfriend? No this is not a hoax, or a joke, or a trick. With 117,549, 807 recorded views at the time of writing YouTube rates this video as the current most viewed of all time.

I feel ripped off for three reasons. First, I can't even view the stupid clip because "this video is not available in your country". Second, I can't embed another version of the clip here because embedding has been "disabled by request". Third, I searched for the most viewed clip on YouTube out of curiousity and this is what I got?

Was it unreasonable to expect something a little less shallow and a little more substantial? What is it with this clip that has made it the most viewed? What does it say about YouTube viewers?

I was introduced to YouTube back at the beginning of 2006, not long after it had officially launched in November 2005. Originally it represented a way for me to access tv and music videos on demand, without the lag of waiting for the Australian release and without the concern of pirating and illegal downloading. Today as the copyright and content restrictions are much more stringent (see here for example), YouTube has simply become a source of random entertainment and amusement. For me anyway.

Beyond my surprise that the most viewed video was in fact a music video, and not some slapstick Jackass-esque stunt, I was appauled that it was Avril Lavigne. I know the little Canadian pop punk princess is one of the highest selling artists in the United States, but I didn't realise her badly painted black nails had dug in to so many avenues. Sorry Avril, but your entertainment factor is not as high as a Charlie the Unicorn. Not that the other music videos in top 10 most viewed clips on YouTube are much better. The four other music entities are Chris Brown, Rihanna, Leona Lewis, and Alicia Keys (all of which have had "embedding disabled by request"), none of which are my cup of tea. In future I think I'll be sticking to the search function in YouTube and going by my own taste, especially when it comes to music.

Although there may be hope for the future of YouTube's most viewed, for the month of March at least. With last weeks most viewed video Extreme Sheep LED Art by BaaStuds:

Or this months most viewed video Fred Rescues the Neighbourhood Squirrels by Fred:

Too Much Testosterone for the Well Endowed

2009-03-21T09:47:00.013+10:00

I have a confession to make: I am well endowed. Now as I'm not male, and I'm not talking about the female genitals either, then being "well endowed" can only mean one thing. Boobs. Breasts. Tits. Titties. Hooters. Melons. Juicy juicy mangoes. Ok so I'm not hear to talk about Bend It Like Beckham or fruit for that matter. But I would like to know why being well endowed entitles certain testosterone charged males to bump, grab, twist, pinch, cup, or any other form of deliberate touching without the expressed permission of the female in question?

As an avid festival/concert/gig/live music goer there seems to be progressively more of this sort of behaviour going on. Or at least I’m hearing more and more stories about it. True, not in main stream news, but certainly among friends. These incidents seem to happen in the swell of a crowd, where the majority of those around you are consumed by watching the band on stage. Perhaps the accused think we’re either too involved or too drunk to notice the “accidental” brush of their hand against our [Please insert body part of your choosing that you would find most offensive if it was being groped].

Most recent case in point is Frenzal Rhomb’s The Boys Are Back In Brown tour with Nancy Vandal. Picture The Arena, on a Friday night, with a largely male, late twenties audience throbbing with excitement about seeing a gig by a band who have been lying dormant for the last two-nearly-three years. I like my punk rock. I wasn’t old enough to be in to Frenzal when they first got big in the mid 1990’s, and had never seen them live, so it was a gig I waited for enthusiastically. I was very much looking forward to a night of getting sweaty in an exuberant mosh pit jumping up and down to Never Had So Much Fun and Russel Crowe’s Band (is a fucking pile of shit) bashed out on stage. And I was thoroughly enjoying myself up until the point where I had my chest blatantly groped by a maliciously grinning guy as he jostled his way through the crowd.

In some sort of shock I remember just staring at him in disbelief that he would do something so obviously socially unacceptable. Was it just because he thought he could get away with it? Maybe that’s the problem. Has reaching out and grabbing a girls breasts in the middle of a mosh pit become the thing to do now? Or maybe I’m just being sexist. I’ve got friends who animatedly and publicly slap the bum of a cute boy who’s caught their eye on a night out. Is it any different?

Or maybe they really are just accidents. Maybe us overly sensitive beings read too much in to things or take offence to easily. Maybe. But I’ve been in mosh pits. I know an accidental bump from a deliberate grab. And I tell you, the next time a guy, or a girl for that matter, grotesquely and deliberately invades my personal space without invitation – they’re in for a slapping. Or a kick in the pants.

No I do not have the rights to distribute this picture, I stole it from Frenzal Rhomb's myspace. Somehow I don't think they'll mind.

Screaming Girls and Music Snobbery

2009-03-20T10:32:00.007+10:00

I hate music snobs. I hate the type of people who sneer condescendingly down their nose at you because you don’t know everything about a certain musical someone. Just because you don’t know every little detail and piece of backwards gossip about the history of a band doesn’t mean your right to say you like/dislike a band or their music is automatically removed. How is knowing the name of every song and every album and every band member for any given band that comes up in conversation really going to change how you feel about their music?

You are entitled to like a band just because. Even if you can’t articulate why. For me a lot of the time I like a band because I’ve heard a song and found it catchy. It doesn’t make a shred of difference how many albums they’ve released, who listens to them, or who they were influenced by. I like their music, knowing everything about them is unlikely to change that. Let me reminisce for a moment.

Fall Out Boy. Friday February 20, 2009 at the Brisbane Entertainment Centre, with supports Hey Monday and The All American Rejects. Walking in among the crowd of predominantly mid-teen girls wearing various band-tees, converse shoes, and spiky hair I look somewhat out of place. But you know what? I don’t give a damn. I’m there to jump around in the mosh pit, sing along to my favourite songs, and all in all have a good time. Just because I was mocked by my brother, my boyfriend, and my housemates for going to this gig was not going to stop me.

They might not be the coolest obscure indy type, or be a hardcore metal band, but that doesn’t mean I can’t think they’re awesome. I might not know (and when I say might, I mean don’t) everything there is to know about them, but that’s not going to stop me digging their music. I might be an amateur when it comes to the music industry, but that doesn’t make my opinion any less valid. Sure it might be different to yours, but so what?

When was the last time you let someone tell you what to think? For me it stopped when I was about five years old and realised that I had a brain of my own. When was the last time you let someone else shout down your opinion just because they think their own is more valid? In all honesty, for me it was probably on yesterday. But really, what’s the difference? Just because I don’t like the same bands or know everything there is to know about music doesn’t mean I can’t have an opinion about it. And just because you might know everything there is to know, doesn’t mean you should be snobby about it.

I don't know everything about Fall Out Boy but I do know that I wasn't the only 22+ year old having an absolute blast at the Brisbane gig. So if someone tells me one more time that Fall Out Boy are only for snivelling thirteen year old girls who are in love with Pete Wentz I think it will be time to resort to violence. I'm thinking about cutting off their noses. At least that way they can't look down it to snub me.

Me and some fellow Fall Out Boy fanatics, prior to being drenched in the sweat of some eight something thousand teeny boppers...