Another day, another boring article complaining about the ‘state’ of music
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This one is particularly irritating because it’s from someone writing for a site which is part of the problem. Yes, I’m aware the site is ‘satirical’. Doesn’t make it funny, though.
As the article acknowledges:
Here we are in the content farm era where Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, SPIN, HIPSTER RUNOFF, Brooklyn Vegan, AbsoluteIndieMag.biz, Stereogum, Buzzfeed Music, Shitty McBlogBlogMagazine.com/Music, GVB, FADER, Complex, [other random ass blog/dumb website/magazine] all generally post the same stuff. It’s just a matter of creating brand loyalty via aesthetics and the perception of premium content to lemming ass internet users.
So why not write about something else then? Dickhead.
Meanwhile, I got myself a great list of a dozen bands to check out from Geoff the Postman. That’d be my old dancing ‘partner’ Geoff the Postman, if anyone’s taking notes and not too busy crying salt fucking tears into their beer at the idea that music can be homogenised by a load of boring, faceless, featureless writer cunts all of whom have tricked themselves into believing that just cos they’ve got access to a computer keyboard and a handful of digital indie PRs, they have anything approaching ‘taste’ (or more importantly, the ability to lead ‘taste’) when all they’re fucking doing is reprinting the same fucking press release 1,000 times over. The bla-a-a-a-nd leading the bla-a-a-a-a-nd. It’d be nice to add something flip about how Pitchfork got there first anyhow and at least do it competently, but of course they don’t do anything of the sort.
So, whatever. Back to Geoff.
During the 80s, Geoff and I must have travelled to hundreds – literally – of gigs together. He had a car, and I would always be living in some stupid bad part of London (Rotherhithe, I’m looking at you). We met because we both danced down the front of Birthday Party gigs, Blurt gigs, Nightingales gigs, UT gigs, psychobilly gigs. We were both loners, possibly not through choice. We’d go record shopping, particularly at Rough Trade in Ladbroke Grove, together. We would listen to homemade cassette compilation after homemade cassette compilation in Geoff’s battered old car. Most importantly, we danced. I recall one of the last Birthday Party shows, disgusted at the crop of poseurs they’d attracted, when we walked through the crowd straight out fists flailing at our sides. I remember driving round dodgy parts of north London for hours, trying to find a Poison Girls squat gig. (Song of the day – 505: The Felines)
Take it away, Geoff:
Geoff The Postman says:
As you’re taking suggestions… a dozen of new bands (well new to me anyway) of 2012
Los Cripis (Argentina)
This is the band that inspired Geoff to compile this list for me. He saw them play live a few weeks back, and reckoned it was something I’d have liked. Damn straight I would’ve fucking liked it. Ramshackle, charming, female, a little bit cute. Like a band that might sound like The Shaggs or Shop Assistants, assuming that same band had never actually heard The Shaggs or Shop Assistants. I mean sure. I can hear The Raincoats in there somewhere but there again I can hear The Raincoats in just about everything I love. (The first album, knucklewit.) Contender for band of the year same way Muscles Of Joy was contender for band of the year last year, and Tunabunny the year before that. Just… holy fuck and shit. I just discovered you can download their stuff for free over here. DO IT DO IT DO IT! Then drop them an email and let ’em know how we all want to have their first-born, and fuck pregnant penguins to the strain of Mo Tucker’s debut solo album. Or something. Communication, that’s the key.
(This blog entry is taking 15 times longer to write than I expected because I simply CAN NOT STOP LISTENING to Los Cripis on that Soundcloud link. Two albums, released on cassette.)
Lovely, and swinging.
The Abigails (USA)
A cross between Country Teasers, Jon Wayne and Dave Graney <-<-<-<-<-<-<-<-<-<- that one sentence is the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve written since December. Must be my proximity to the turgid indie mainstream. Just click the videos, and wallow.
Bobsleigh Baby (Italy)
Nice. Rockin’, and nice.
Oh yeah. I can let one more slip through the gate. Why not?
Summer time dream-pop. Like listening to The Like and Best Coast and – oh, c’mon – Dum Dum Girls all at once, except that Summer Twins wear roller-skates (see above). Although now I think on it, I believe some of those other bands enjoy roller-skating too. The music, I like – but you have to appreciate that these people are not my people. It doesn’t really matter because the music, I like – but these people aren’t losers. They radiate a sense of being comfortably off. There’s no edge because there’s no need for an edge because to add an edge would imply struggle and to imply struggle would be plain wrong. Hey, listen! I used to love The Plimsouls and The Rain Parade just fine. And I’m digging this Summer Twins album just fine. It’s just that it’s aimed at folk who AREN’T 50, DON’T have a life centered around playgrounds and shopping centres (at least, not those kind of shopping centres), STILL think life is wonderful, AREN’T failures and … (Song of the day – 448: Summer Twins)
King Lollipop (USA)
Who’d’ve thunk Hunx And His Punx would be so influential?
Las Vinylators (Mexico)
You can see where we’re going with this, can’t you? Wow, cats.
The Jimi Ben Band (France)
God bless Joe Meek and all who sailed in her. Oh wait, XTC.
The Neasden Bees (UK)
They’re the Neasden Bees! I hope they learn how to beehive themselves.
Elvis Christ (USA)
I’m starting to detect a slight 1-2-3-4-Go! bias.
MFC Chicken (UK)
Maybe I’ve missed the point here. Maybe Collapse Board should only be writing about what the music industry wants us to write about, or being cynical about everything because it’s fucking easier.
Maybe Mr Angst-Ridden Cos I’ve Shat All Over The Music I Thought I Loved And I Didn’t Even Realise My Bowels Were Moving So Well Again over at Hipster Runoff (insert name of any other ‘big’ American music ‘blog’ here) has already digested and spat all the above. Hipsters, or parodies of hipsters (same thing), saying indie is dead and we all should all buckle up is kinda like the music equivalent of the Tory cunts insisting on austerity measures for the poor and another rule for the rich, ain’t it?
Here’s one final thought for you all: at what point does a satire cease being a satire and become part of the entity it’s satirising? By being Hipster Runoff, and by resolutely staying Hipster Runoff, Hipster Runoff has become an integral part of the entity they’re making fun of. I don’t like humour that has no heart. It’s not in my nature. I can’t stand Ricky Gervais either.
Ricky Gervais at the Oscars. Hipster Runoff vs the ‘hipster blogs’. It’s the same fucking thing. There’s no difference between any of these people.
Hipster Runoff explained in two simple pictures