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November 21, 2004
I Hate Music
Yes, it would appear that way, anyway, to judge from the crushing lack of interest that made me leave halfway through last night at the scenester show, from the conspicuous lack (though not, unfortunately, lack of knowledge) of the latest hot-shit indie records that pile up on the end-caps of the aforementioned stores anywhere within 100 yards of my record collection, from the looks the record store clerks with their sewn-on hardcore band patches and animal-eared felt hats give me when I shuffle up to the counter, each record in my hand the sole copy they've bothered to order. Sometimes, and I swear it's not just those ridiculous hats, it's like I've been transported to Never-Never Land, except I'm the one who's somehow managed to grow up.
Lovely. Over the hill and I only turned 27 last month. Somehow I'm reminded of a guy I used to work with, whose cubicle CD collection was a veritable encyclopedia of '70s RAWK--think Jim Anchower--and nothing else. One day the guy who sat next to me came back from visiting this guy's desk and said to me "Hey, what year do you think music stopped being cool for Buzz?" I had him pegged at '76, just before punk. There but for the grace of God..., I thought.
Of course, that's only half the story. My credit card company can certainly testify to the fact that I haven't exactly given up on music anytime recently, and the batch of records I ordered from Kompakt's unbelievably comprehensive mailorder section have kept me dancing around my living room inna microhouse stylee quite nicely, thank you. Two amazing mix CDs and yet another career retrospective from the Saint Etienne camp have been taking me back to the old school, and even that old shoe, the indie pop world, has a few tricks up its sleeve, yet. So what better time to start a blog? I've spent too many nights of my life playing records (or guitars, for that matter) in a basement to thirty-some-odd people who couldn't really care to stop now.
Those of us who, one way or another, are veterans of the indie era of the '80s and '90s should know by now that you have to make your own culture, perhaps now more than ever, as the increasingly powerful nature of communications technology is merely the flipside of the continuing consolidation of Western media interests which show no sign of abating until one day it truly will be as simple as "us" versus "them" (or "it"). Plus, if my analogy is correct and these days really are feeling more like 1976 than any other time in the intervening 29 years, we can only hope expectantly that another 1977 is right around the corner and do our best to make it so. If I were a British music journalist, I would spare no effort in telling you that this is the most exciting time to be alive, to be listening to music (in fact, I would have been telling you this since paragraph one). I am not, and so therefore I cannot make such promises. Besides, the endless ululations of the music press have always left me a bit cold; proclaiming the future to have arrived strikes me as projection, rather than fact. But to wait and see...aah, that's where it's at.
Playing as I write:
Losoul - Getting Even (Playhouse)
The Wendys - The Sun's Going to Shine for me Soon (Factory)
The Dentists - Down and Out in Paris and Chatham (Tambourine)
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Posted by Andrew at 8:31 PM | Comments (0)