Music to believe in

 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.

Images:

• http://www.casafree.com/modules/xcgal/albums/userpics/12392/foo_fighters_photo.jpg
• http://www.thewashingtonnote.com/archives/peter-garrett.jpg

Music to crack Dio jokes to

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

Music to listen to when justifying a bender

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

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

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)

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...

Images:

• http://uweekly.com/women/wp-content/uploads/2007/09/fergie-street-scene-
• s2.jpghttp://www.cricinfo.com/db/PICTURES/CMS/80200/80257.jpg
• http://cache.gizmodo.com/assets/resources/2008/05/iphone_frog.jpg

Music to Listen to While Sleeping

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

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

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.