Why Everyone Who Is Writing Articles About Rebecca Black Sucks

Stern lecture time... This is my serious pen

I present exhibit A and exhibit B – two articles containing the words “Rebecca” and “Black” in the title, both of which make a statement that suggests an answer to a question will be forthcoming in the article.

Exhibit A: What Rebecca Black’s Friday says about the state of pop

Published on UK’s Guardian website, one would be forgiven for presuming that the article will actually attempt to enlighten its readers as to just what exactly it is that Friday says about the state of pop. Does it? Allow me to answer that with a quote from the article itself:

“The problem is that it all has very little to do with pop music, or Black herself.”

At no point in the entire “article” does the writer even attempt to address the statement made in the title. In fact, all it does is say “Rebecca Black (kinda) sang a song. No one liked it, but it got famous anyway. What do you think that means?”

Exhibit B: Why Rebecca Black is Bad News for Pop Music

Posted on that site well-known for its topical, relevant and hard-hitting articles – Yahoo. So, why is it that Black’s song is bad news for pop music? Yahoo’s answer, according to what follows, is that, actually, her song is pretty much the same as most other pop songs that are in the charts these days. Oh! Now everything’s clear. Thanks, Yahoo!

Do you think this kind of journalism is legitimate or worthwhile? Is it ok to make a statement, tell everyone what other people are saying but in the process neglect to provide content that qualifies the statement, then at the end repeat the statement as a question to your readers?

If it is then I just wrote an article worthy of publication on The Guardian. Woo hoo!

Ok, so I can easily pretend to be an idiot, but I’m (pretty sure I’m) not. I get why these articles are not only written in the first place, but why they’re given such misleading titles – they’re crowd-drawing, and therefore revenue raising, filler.

Kinda like a lot of chart-topping pop music, huh?

What’s been bothering me the most in all this, however, is the predominant statement/accusation that’s arisen in the aftermath of Black’s Friday – which those two articles hint at, but utterly failed to address. That being:

Rebecca Black represents everything that’s wrong with the music industry today.

 

Obligatory picture of the obviously evil 13 year old for dramatic effect and to prove my point

Really? Everything? Are you sure? How about this, instead:

The state of the music industry is a reflection of everything that’s wrong with people.

Personally, I think the truth is somewhere in the middle.

The “music industry” is a vast, complicated and intricate thing, encompassing far more than the by-product that is produced and manages to land at the top of the pile. I call it garbage, but it’s with the understanding that one person’s trash is another’s treasure – if you like it…good for you, I guess. My point, however, is that one song, one genre, one label, or even one trend does not an industry make.

The music I look for, listen to, love and support – you know, with actual money, not a click to a file-hosting site – is miles away from the kind of music Rebecca Black and others of her ilk produce, and if it’s released on a label it’s those that, by and large, are doing it out of love and passion. That is the best part of this so called “industry”, and there’s nothing wrong with that aspect of it – what’s wrong is that not enough people are paying attention, but go on to complain that what is brought to their attention isn’t good enough.

If everyone has so much contempt for what’s on offer by “the industry”, as the reaction to this song would indicate, why does it continue to be offered? Maybe all those big shot music executives missed the day at Tycoon School where they taught a successful business relies on profit. Maybe they fund their releases and advertising by collecting cans for recycling, then take The Homer Approach, mixed in with a little Sally Field Philosophy™.

Step One: People will like what we tell them to like.
Step Two: They like us! They really like us…and that’s enough for us. Group hug!

If you’re not convinced the consumer is a big part of the problem yet, I offer Exhibit C for your perusal. The following are just a few questions I found during a quick search on Yahoo. I know that many questions on there are by trolls and not to be taken seriously, but I can assure you these were asked legitimately.

That’s right, there are actually people out there asking to be dictated to; asking the esteemed members of the internet what songs are “good”; if their taste in music is better than their friend’s taste; if it’s normal to listen to music you didn’t listen to 3 years ago; what guitar chords to learn; whether or not they should buy the new Michael Jackson CD because they already have the first two compilations released after his death; which band out of two – that they’ve already listened to and liked – they should listen to some more; asking ‘record dealists’ (let that one sink in for a moment) if they’re interested in signing them; whether they should start a band or learn the guitar; where they can steal music from before it’s released…

 

--------------------"Ok guys, who should we make famous next?"----------------------- "I dunno Dave, let's look on Yahoo Answers"

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Before you absolve yourself of any responsibility for the state of the industry as you see it, ask yourself a) just where it is you’re looking; b) if you or anyone you know is responsible for contributing to it in the manner as exemplified by those questions; and c) if you’re doing anything about it other than complain, read articles by other people who are complaining, then going and clicking ‘Dislike’ on YouTube.

Oh, and why does everyone who is writing articles about Rebecca Black suck?

Because I have not seen one yet that isn’t as irrelevant, self-serving and gratuitous as the song they’re talking about, and they do nothing but contribute to the big pile of crap that is disposable media and entertainment.

 

>>>>>FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER!!<<<<<

 

S4E

PS Because I’m sure you’re dying to know, it was decided that Linkin Park got soft when they matured. We’re all still stumped as to how to go about getting into this singing business, though.

You Can’t Take It With You

I never quite understood the rationale of that as a reason for not having things. I can’t take anything physical with me (as far as I know) when I ‘go’, but is that a reason not to experience the things I want to before I do? Nobody ever says that when I buy a new book, a lamp to read it by or a shelf to put it on. It’s almost a sentence fragment, for that matter, the unspoken other half carrying with it an implication that whatever it is the person is referring to, is ultimately a pointless pursuit because one day you’ll die and the things that were yours will suddenly become no one’s. The sharper end of the suggestion is often that in lieu of ‘getting a life’, collectors are people who gather a mountain of “useless” things that will then become the testement to said life they didn’t have. What a load of rubbish. (In this context, I’ll let you interpret that sentence any way you like).

This issue was brought to mind for a few reasons. One, because I turned the television on the other day and happened to catch a few snippets of the show Hoarders. It was a stark reminder of why I only turn the TV on once every couple of days – I am prepared to be horrified by fellow man on an infrequent basis. Another is because I recently tipped 500 in my private music collection (physical format only), and the ol’ you can’t take it with you has been uttered on more than one occasion in my general direction. I’m going to leave aside the fact that I think 500 CDs isn’t all that many, at least it’s not in comparison to how many I could have if I had the financial means to purchase everything I ever wanted.

One thing I am often asked by a person I know, when I happen to mention a new CD I’ve bought, is  ‘what do you need another CD for?’ I don’t understand this question. I would if I had bought the same CD 500 times, but since each one is different¹ and I know that I don’t need any CDs, I fail to comprehend the logic of it. (Never mind that this person never wears the same pair of socks twice, and has an almost climbable mountain of them next to where they take their shoes off every day after work, awaiting the occasional clean-out. When the question is reversed, the answer is merely ‘it’s easier’. Apparently, automatic washing machines are not a far enough advancement from the days we’d have to traverse down to the river bank and beat our clothing against rocks).

I know what I'd rather have cluttering up the empty spaces in my home

What’s interesting about the two scenarios is that socks can be considered a necessity, yet they’ve become a disposable commodity. Of similar interest is their use of the word need. I think most reasonable people would never truly say that they need a new CD, or whatever it is that they collect. Collections aren’t so much about practicalities or need as they are an indulgence in passion. While it’s true for some that the lines between addiction, obsession and passion sometimes get a little blurry, I often find myself having to answer to accusations of excessive, unnecessary indulgence, materialism and the suggestion that these things are a substitute for other things I ‘must’ be missing.

Well guess what? Every now and then, they are.

Sometimes I miss people that are no longer in my life and I play one of their favourite songs or albums. Sometimes I miss the bus and sing Mercedes Benz to myself while I wait for the next one.

But most often they’re not substitutes at all. Music can do so much more than fill empty space. The physical components are superfluous for many these days – a pile of CD cases looking much like a pile of discarded shells once the contents have been sucked out and stored on a hard drive or iPod. Not to me. To me it’s like having hundreds of works of art at my fingertips; hundreds of bookmarks that each hold the place to a moment in time that has inspired or challenged thought. Music can create and expand space.

Hoarders such as those seen on the TV show are, of course, extreme examples of the basic human tendency to gather and collect things – things which are not of immediate use and need, or in some cases things no one should want let alone find a use for (the show I happened to catch featured Jill, a hoarder of food, most of which no longer resembled food). That sort of behaviour is quite a few steps beyond maintaining an interest and collection, where bringing something into your life is not a source of enjoyment, and instead seriously impedes or endangers a person’s quality of life.

I doubt any one would say the same about a music collection, but it does seem to be one of those things that, if someone else doesn’t understand your enthusiasm, they also reason that because they find it unfathomable, it must mean it’s ultimately pointless. The statement is then: You can’t take it with you when you die, so I don’t understand why you want it now. Whether or not I will have a hereafter, or simply cease to exist, is a topic for elsewhere, but who really knows if what I find enriches my life here and now won’t actually carry over to the afterlife?

The simplified version of my theory is that the energy you create in this life, affects everything around you, now and ever, ergo the things you bring into your life contribute to your energy and have a residual effect. I might not be taking my CDs with me, or any of the other collections I’ve amassed over the years (toys, CCGs², films, piano ornaments, comics…) but if the experience of them has enriched my life in some way, I venture to say that I will be taking that with me no matter where I go. If I get to take my memories, then those are memories I want to have – soundtrack included.

 

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1. This isn’t strictly true – I do have a couple of different versions of some releases, but they have slightly different content. This distinction is important!

2. CCG = Collectible Card Game, of which I have collected/played three: Yu-Gi-Oh (please don’t ask), then discovered Shadowfist (an awesome game based on kung fu/action/sci-fi/horror movies. Issuing major smackdown with Wong Fei Hung and a No Shadow Kick equipped is a certain thrill only a few will  understand), and – of course – Magic: The Gathering. At the peak of my interest, I probably had about 10 fully functioning M:TG decks. They all had names.

A Week of Australian Music – The Music of All Time

So now we’ve arrived at “the day”, the 26th of January. Australia Day .

For many Australians, it is a day to celebrate the country we were and are, for others it’s  just a day off work, and for others still it is a sombre reminder of the irrevocable effects British settlement had on the people and culture of Indigenous Australia¹.

Once again, for the most part I’ll refrain from including personal opinion here, except to say that today, I choose to acknowledge and honour that this country I call home, was a country long before those ships found its shores, with a rich, diverse, established culture – and music is a significant part of that culture.

While I think it’s essential to include in a series concerning the music of Australia, I regret to say that I don’t feel I know enough about it to attempt to inform as well as Aboriginal Art Online have with this fantastic page highlighting some of the most important and fascinating aspects of traditional Aboriginal music, which speaks of the use and inheritence of music as a living, evolving part of life. (What a wonderful gift that must be).

I highly recommend taking a few moments to read the above page and learning a little more about how music is utilised as a part of every day life, as a tool for communication, and  even as a measure of a man’s maturity.

The following track, composed and performed by Richard Walley, uses the didgeridoo as the sole instrument. The different sounds are achieved by various vocal techniques such as clicking and speaking, or simply a change in the position of the mouth and tongue to alter the pitch or tone, while keeping the drone sound constant (most effective when utilising circular breathing). Which makes the didgeridoo fairly unique in that it can be a wind and rhythm instrument simultaneously.

 

The next clip is a track called Hope by Yothu Yindi², who combine traditional Aboriginal music with modern pop and rock. (Great lyrics, which can be read here).

 

I’ll now be taking a few days break before resuming regular posting activity. In the meantime, I’d love to hear from anyone with examples of artists or songs they feel represent their country in some way – any way.

 

S4E

1. Australia Day is commonly referred to by Indigenous Australians as Invasion Day.

2. Yothu Yindi is Yolngu for child and mother.

 

 

A Week of Australian Music – Beyond 2000 Part II

There were a couple of deciding factors when it came to making the choice to talk specifically about Australian hip hop – the first one being that it’s my younger brother’s main area of interest. The other one I’ll get to in a moment.

As I write this, I have one of my brother’s CDs sitting on my desk, called Aerosol Era by Bias B, released in 2009. According to him, this is one of the best Australian hip hop albums ever. I listened to it the other week and I can’t say I’m convinced. The entire album is, as the title may suggest, a fairly nostalgic journey of the days the artist spent stealing cans of spray paint and graffiting trains. At one point he fondly reels off several names of favoured colours. Me, I don’t get it, but of course my brother does, it’s like someone sat down and wrote an album about his own youth.

I need to back track a little first and admit hip hop, rap and most other associated genres are far from being the kind of music I feel well versed in. While I do have a couple of albums, for the most part my interest ranges from mild to almost non-existant, with the odd song here and there piquing that interest.

That being said, I would have had to be both completely ignorant and deaf not to notice that the last decade or so has seen what was once primarily mimicry of US rap and hip hop, develop into something that is uniquely Australian. While I’m no expert, I do think that hip hop in particular is a genre that traditionally uses culture-specific subject matter. As a means of social and personal commentary, I think it becomes an incredibly significant artform whether I dig the tunes or not. Thankfully, there’s a decent number of them that I do. In point of fact, though I often can’t listen to it from any country for much longer than the average album, I still seriously dig on hearing the Australian accent in hip hop.

I’m going to go out on a (not very long) limb and say Australia’s most successful group is Hilltop Hoods. I do have a little history with these guys, having seen them live before the release of their first album, so I’m not completely out of my depth. Could be that and the fact that they’re local that fosters an extra soft spot, but I’ve listened to their first two albums – particularly The Hard Road and the subsequent Restrung version – more than enough times to be able to say they offer up Aussie hip hop with serious substance and style. I’ve always been partial to the restrung version of The Hard Road, so here they are in a live performance with the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra.

Ok, so that was an easy one – the rest…not so much. I thought since I made a point as to its cultural significance, it was essential to enlist a little extra help in the form of a 17 year-old fan of Oz hip hop, who was not only willing to talk about the music he listens to, but did so enthusiatically. Much thanks goes out to Jordan for his extra insight. Initially, I just asked for a few names I could look up, thinking I would figure out for myself  which ones  to include after taking a listen to some tracks, which resulted in a bit of hemming and hawing alongside some vague offerings. So I asked if he thought any of them typically sing about, or in his mind represent, Australian culture, and without hesitation he said Reason. Thus, Reason became the voice of the nation’s youth (or at least one of them – also resisting the temptation of the obvious joke there).

This resulted in a nice little education on some Australian hip hop, some of which I’ve heard of I’m relatively pleased to say. Interestingly, the following was pointed out as one of the most Australian hip hop songs.

I say interesting because of our differing ideas about the things that represent Australia and its culture. There’s little point in my making an assessment (and by virtue, judgement) on our varying ideas, if only because it’s our experiences of culture that form those ideas of it. I will, however, offer the following…

For me, some of the most classicly Aussie lyrics I’ve heard was in a song called Scallops by The Herd. The track itself is typically boastful of the artist’s skills (or skillz, as the case may be), but it’s the laidback delivery and ultimately self-effacing language used that I think neatly encapsulates a characteristic common to many Australians, plus it makes me smile every time I hear it, particularly: Like a $3.40 bag of fresh hip hop from your local fish and chip shop. Ah scallops! With dollops of flavour on top…

No matter what else there is to be said about hip hop, arguments about the genre’s origin  and so on, once adopted and then adapted, it becomes less an example of one country’s musical influence on another, and more an example of some of the most Australian music there is. These guys – as both musicians and lyricists – are poets, storytellers and chroniclers of culture, and they do it in a way that  speaks to and for the youth of this country. Not just the youth – my brother is only two years younger than me.  As far as I’m concerned that makes them more than noteworthy when it comes to talking about the music of Australia.

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A Week of Australian Music – Beyond 2000 Part I

 

This is where things could get really messy if I let it, as when it came down to it  – despite some of the reasons that prompted this series – my awareness of, and exposure to, music has hit a peak this decade, which hasn’t excluded Oz music as much as I may have indicated (more that I don’t tend to hear about much unless they’ve caused a buzz in some way – and of course many have). So I’ve decided to keep the focus strictly on two specific aspects post-2000.

By the time I got to this point , I noticed a distinct lack of female artists, which would appear to suggest it was rare for me to notice and/or appreciate their contribution to Australian music. Whether that’s true of the past or not, the first decade in the new millenium has seen a whole host of them coming onto the scene that really struck a chord with me, and audiences in general. While I wouldn’t usually make a special point of it, I do feel their absence thus far should be redressed, and I wouldn’t bother if I didn’t think I could back it up with some good music. I’ve already raved on plenty of times here about Inga Liljeström and her album Elk, so I’ll leave that out of this.

The first clip is a neat little tie in, I suppose, as it’s a cover of an old Cold Chisel song called Flame Trees, done beautifully by Sarah Blasko (whose own work is indeed part of my current collection). I love the fact that she hasn’t changed any of the lyrics in order to adapt it for a female artist, as it really changes the context of much of the song. I have to admit to an intrigue when artists do that – that being the interpretation of songs generally considered “for” one gender by the other. I can’t really say as to why, perhaps I’ll look into that further at a later stage. Once again, I was restricted to only showing a live version. (Oh, and here’s the original Cold Chisel version – top song).

I guess while I’m on the subject, I’ll divert slighty for a moment… As fascinated as I am when they get it right, I’m a little unsettled when I really don’t think it works. One of Australia’s most successful bands of the last couple of decades, Powderfinger, just didn’t pull off their take on Portishead‘s very female song, Glory Box – which you can listen to here if you so choose.

I mentioned the loss of my CD collection in the last post, and in all reality it’s only been a few years since I started avidly paying attention to music and  buying CD’s again, but one of the first I sought out was Clare Bowditch‘s What Was Left. The song I Thought You Were God was my immediate favourite on that album, and I feel sure that I’m not the only one out there that thinks Clare’s wonderfully fond and nostalgic reminiscence is just as much theirs as it is hers, as it sums up so perfectly and poignantly the way many young people feel about their first love(r). I don’t think it needs further explanation than that, so…

 

As a rather stark counterpoint to that song, classicly-trained pop vocalist Kate Miller-Heidke, sings about what happens when that God-like person doesn’t fill you with such fond memories, then comes back to haunt you years later. (This song – Are You F*cking Kidding Me -  has yet to make an appearance on a studio album, but is on 2009′s Live at the Hi-Fi. That’s not my censorship of the title, by the way).

I’ve mentioned other family members in terms of the influence they’ve had on my listening habits, so for the final part of this series, I’m taking a cue from the other members of my immediate family and I’ll be focusing on Australian hip hop.

 

S4E

A Week of Australian Music – The 90′s Part II

So yesterday I spoke about a few artists from the 90′s I listened to at the time, but don’t anymore. Seems like the logical thing to do is talk about the ones I still listen to now. Unfortunately for Australian music, but lucky for me in terms of keeping this nice and easy, there’s not actually that many – which is true of music from all over the world in reality, due in no small part to the fact that very late in the decade I lost all but a very small percentage of my CD collection, not many of which I’ve actively sought to replace.

Which means that you can consider this post more or less a testement to the most prolific of Australian artists, Nick Cave.

I acknowledged back in the 70′s that Nick Cave and his associated projects are of quite high import when it comes to Oz music, and there’s probably very little about his music and career that I can say that would be anything new to most people, but I can tell you that I had no interest whatsoever until Do You Love Me? was released from 1994′s Let Love In.

That song did very strange things to my head. I wrote a bunch of stuff in order to try and explain those things, but in reading it back I realised it got wildly divergent and veered distinctly into 18+ territory (probably not in the way that you might immediately think – I was talking about a common social phenomena and certain concepts that are treated as separate entities, when – while they’re not the same thing – can be part of one thing… Maybe not so much ‘strange things’, but something new to me at the time). So I think I’ll just omit it and say that I found it curiously evocative.

Perhaps more strangely, I maintained that Do You Love Me? was the only good Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds song, and it wasn’t until years later I realised how wrong I was with the release of No More Shall We Part in 2001. I guess you could call it the slowest seduction ever, and I played hard to get in the extreme because even then I was happy enough with a Best Of collection and NMSWP right up until last year. Thank God music doesn’t ever lose patience with listeners and just remains quietly persistent in sending out the signals to take notice. I’ve informally named The Mercy Seat (from 1988′s Tender Prey) as one of – if not the – greatest Australian songs of all time for a few years, but Let Love In is now my favourite of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ albums thus far.

Since it doesn’t feel quite right simply leaving it at that, I think Regurgitator also warrants a mention. Just because Tu Plang is the only Australian album from the 90′s I can remember literally hanging out to get my hands on. Wikipedia asserts it was released in 1996, but I’m almost sure that can’t be right (i.e. I could have sworn it was a year or two earlier than that). Other sources corroborate Wiki, so I guess my brain’s making up history.

Not that it matters, really. Kong Foo Sing was the debut single from Tu Plang, and I thought it was the best. song. ever. the moment I heard it. In part novelty, though they had more going for them than that and have quite a few choice tracks to their credit. If you listen to the lyrics, you’ll see this one’s about fortune cookies, named after the restaurant they came from.

Smiles abound – the cookie has spoken. Classic.

I did follow the ‘Gurge beyond their debut ( ! (The Song Formerly Known As) from the follow-up album Unit still gets a look-in every now and then), but from the 90′s, Nick Cave is the only Australian artist I (kinda) listened to then that I still play consistently. That might actually get a little disconcerting if I think more about it.

 

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A Week of Australian Music – The 90′s Part I

The first important thing about the 90′s to mention is that there was a significant paradigm shift right from the start. Less than a week into February of 1990, I moved from the country to the city and began attending a Catholic school, sans my older brother’s presence. I took this as an opportunity to completely re-invent myself, and judging by the results… I really shouldn’t invent things.

In terms of music, I again rejected most of the styles I had been fanatic about (namely the glam metal) and thoroughly embraced Goth culture, along with all the associated music, which is probably a logical step all things considered. Sadly, I don’t have any Australian bands to talk about in that regard, as all the artists I remember obsessing over are pretty much just the usual suspects and not-a-one is Aussie (not even a google prompted some long forgotten memory of an old Oz Goth band from the 90′s).

In 1991, however, an ‘indie rock’ band by the name of Ratcat released an album called Blind Love. Two tracks from that album – That Aint Bad and Don’t Go Now – were the first songs I ever adopted as personal anthems, and Blind Love became the soundtrack to my ’91/’92.

I also seriously fell in love at first listen with You Am I and the song Berlin Chair (from debut Sound As Ever, 1993). On a sidenote, this was the first clip of many that I looked at for this song that could be played back anywhere other than on YouTube (same with the original clip for Ratcat’s Don’t Go Now, and quite a high number of other clips I wanted to post here for that matter – it’s gotten to be exceedingly frustrating and I’m not sure I understand what the freakin’ difference is).

For reasons I don’t quite know/remember other than to put it down to being a typically fickle teenager, both of those loves fizzled out pretty quick and I never paid either of them any attention after those first albums. I do remember once saying to a friend of mine, in specific reference to You Am I, something along the lines of that I could recognise that they’re a really good band, but I just wasn’t into it anymore (the old ‘I love it but I’m not in love with it’ schtick, maybe I should look You Am I up again after all these years and see if we still spark).

I think there was quite a lot of that going on in the 90′s, now that I think of it – not just with Aussie bands and definitely not just on my behalf. Some of it was their own fault. When The Whitlams released this utterly and (at times) oddly beautiful song, I and the rest of the country fell in love with it. 1997 saw it voted into the #1 position of a national radio poll – JJJ’s Hottest 100 – for very good reason.

Then they went and spoiled it all by releasing something like Chunky Chunky Air Guitar.

Actually, listening to these songs now, I’m still pretty partial to them, so I’m pleased I haven’t had to reveal being into something like Roxus. (I refuse to mention they were the support act when I saw Poison live in ’89. Wait…)

 

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