Party Time! Party Time!

I was at a party the other night, not a particularly cool one. To mask my indifference, to show my disaffection, I spent a lot of time watching futbol on the pub’s big screen. I did eventually get talking to this guy, though, who may or may not be a member of the Hillsong church. Anyway, that detail is just an aside. Speak-shouting, as we were, over the top of some bad DJ – my inner cynic nicely numbed by alcohol, he simply Mr. Nice ‘Teetotaller’ Guy – topic turned to music.

Now, I feel I gave him a pretty good ear-bashing, the type that invariably gets no reply or at best a polite ‘I have to go over hear now’. I don’t know the teachings of Hillsong (is Australian Idol really a subject for preaching?), but it must breed tolerance. Like Jerry Seinfeld attributing his funniness to Scientology, let me just thank Hillsong for this inane blog entry!

Seriously, the guy’s honesty was refreshing. It takes something to sidle up to me, dressed in my finest indie-chic, and proclaim yourself a ‘teeny-bopper’ (his words). A married man, too! ‘S Club 7, Britney, Christina… ,’ he went, on first-name basis no less. Fair ‘nuff. You can like what you like. We then talked about music downloading as a social phenomenon. I pointed out the disparate views from artists. Some, like Radiohead and plenty of indie artists, can encourage the act: to be heard as opposed to simply bought and sold. Not so major labels etcetera, who take the opposing view and shout ‘creative rights! ownership! moneys!’ at all sorts of inopportune moments. This is the only point over which Mr. Nice Guy and me really clashed. What he said was unforgivable but, more importantly, a sign of the black-and-white times we live in.

‘It’s like all the good artists want their music only to be bought, while the bad ones will just give there’s away.’

Oh my. In type, that probably doesn’t look too bad. But the way it was said, with one of those laughs that suggests the speaking of unarguable fact, really grated. Thing is, he doesn’t know better. It’s not his fault. I do wonder whether these ‘good’ artists have no objections to the buying of votes i.e. the buying of cultural capital i.e. Australian Idol.

Here you are, my friend, some super-duper songs redone quite poorly by struggling artists:

Bonnie Prince Billy - The World's Greatest (R. Kelly cover)
Nouvelle Vague - Dancing With Myself (Billy Idol cover)

And when she talked about a fall, I thought she talked about Mark E. Smith

I’ve thought for a while now that The Fall could be my ideal band – if only I could get started on their lengthy back catalogue! And that’s just the problem! From what I can gather, their output is remarkably consistent with something like 26 studio albums spanning three decades. Not that the band’s personnel has been at all stable: vocalist, lyricist and leader Mark E. Smith ('the most hated man in Britain' or angry enigma, take your pick) has been the only constant member, with there having been around 58 line-up changes. Smith, a notorious cynic, once quipped 'If it's me, and your granny on bongos, it's a Fall gig'.

It has always seemed to me that The Fall has no Daydream Nation or I See a Darkness; no definitive introduction album, nothing concrete for which I could test my compatibility with such a prolific artist. But I knew it must be. Being a fan of so many bands influenced by Smith and co. – Art Brut, Pavement, McLusky – as well as contemporaries of a sort, like Wire and Gang of Four, I knew. Plus the Jens Lekman lines featured in the title above have proven handy for name-dropping!

Having read so much about Smith’s unique lyrical style – apparently a heady mix of social realism, brutal criticism, surrealism and absurdism – I really shouldn’t have left it so long. I may be exposing a gaping hole in my indie-cred but it was only last week that I purchased (yes, this was far too important for downloading) my first Fall album. I settled on This Nation’s Saving Grace, which, along with Hex Enduction Hour and Perverted By Language, was one of three that I had narrowed my selection down to. And, whaddya know, I’m hooked-uh (in true Mark E. Smith vocal style).

Please, if you haven’t already, do yourself a favour:

I am Damo Suzuki
Bombast