Can You Hear The Music?: A Series of Questions to Overcome Musical Xenophobia and Techniques to Appreciate Music in Different Ways

A cult is a cult is a cult.

All followers think they are the chosen ones – the only ones who get it and truly understand what their messiah is saying. Admittedly, in a world full of doubt and spiritually vacuous consumption, it is nice to discover something to frame our experiences and it can be a relief to find answers for yourself at that time. But it’s also useful to recognise that we are born to flux and flow, not to stagnate and rot.

Blood, Milk and Blooms

Blood, Milk and Blooms

Solve: Breaking the problem into pieces

If you find yourself hero-worshipping the same artist for a lengthy period of time, I challenge you to ask yourself why. If it’s because the values and inspiration you have an affinity for ring true to your experience, ask yourself what other, better, deeper, more wonderful things are waiting to be discovered. Spending hours inside an art gallery filled with beautiful things is fine for a while, but what’s waiting for you in the great outdoors?

Do you only listen to one or two types of music? Why? What feelings and values do they represent? Have you thought about understanding these in different ways, through different music? Or does your favourite music have the monopoly?

There are always going to bands that you just don’t like. I have many in my shit-list but in my defence, they’re all bands from diverse genres. Regardless of how my bespoke critical faculties limit them from being good, I still recognise that they have value for other people – and that all music in itself is a vehicle for our fundamental human right to express ourselves.

For those of you who have made a particular kind of music a focal point of your existence, it can be easy to forget that other genres have value. Fans tend to gravitate towards scenes, to form ghettoes, to join cults. I get it. Communities are safe, and like ugly ducklings, we can feel like we’ve come home. But what does it say about your need to belong? Is your self-worth dependent on belonging to something for the sake of it? “I care about hardcore but I hate the scene,” said Zoli Teglas. Not only can I identify with that, I can apply it to many of the other scenes I move through (but that is a topic for another time).

Be honest: is there anything about your sub/culture that you don’t like? Is it catty, is it elitist? Is it too-serious or not serious enough? Is it monotypic – made up of a majority of people from the same gender, ethnicity, spiritual affiliation, political persuasion, sexual orientation, class background, and/or lifestyle choice? If so, why? Is it because outsiders find acceptance difficult, and are you part of the problem or the solution? Do you judge people who don’t fit in, and why? Is the fact that they’re not wearing the right uniform really a threat to your enjoyment of the music? And do you realise that everything you profess to rebel against might just be the same shit you are perpetuating in your judgements?

 

Set: Experimenting with content

Listen to music that you hate, and try to find something good about it.

Listen to music you don’t understand and try to find out the appeal.

Listen to aggressive music and feel what arises in your guts – is it a cathartic release of anger? A distillation of rage?  Is there beauty in the ugliness? Maybe you find it ridiculous or maybe it scares you. Does it make you uncomfortable, do you hate it? What does this say about anything you may be suppressing?

Listen to something challenging, perhaps some discordant noise or psychedelic jazz. Does it frustrate you that you can’t figure it out? What does this say about your love for the safety nets of rules and law and order? What do you fear about chaos? What untapped potential lies in that tangled fertility?

Listen to some heartfelt love ballads and some melodic eulogies for the fallen. Are you uncomfortable with how it makes your heart hurt? Listen to the despair and longing in that voice. Do you remember ever feeling like that? Does it make you cry? Is this okay – are you accepting of your heavy feelings? Or do you want to skip the song?

Listen to something mainstream, something not cool in your reckoning, or something the hipsters are hyping up. Are you contemptuous of its formulaic simplicity, of its overtly vacuous overtones? Or can you appreciate that silliness and lightness inspires frivolity and just letting troubles go? Does it make you stop thinking and just move, and isn’t that rad in its own right? Or does there have to meaning in music, does its profundity have to be spelled out and hand-fed to you? What does this say about your lack of imagination? What does it tell you about your need to define art only on your own terms, and not wonder about the myriad of other operating systems out there?

Listen to some politically-charged punk rock. Does the energy sweep you up or do you resist it? Or does it just make your ears hurt? What does this say about your ability to let go, and what does this say about your judgement on the validity of dissenting voices? Does it sound like a battle-cry, a call to arms? Does this inspire you to make a difference in the world, or a lifestyle change? To educate yourself and others? Ian McKay once said“At least I’m fucking trying! What the fuck have you done?” How would you answer him?

Listen to some socially-conscious folk music. Is it just whinging, or might they have a point? Where are they coming from? Do they have a right to express their frustration in a creative way, or only in a way that you see fit? Does this raise questions of how unyielding your condemnation can be for those you don’t understand or agree with? Or does it make you feel guilty that you’re ignorant and apathetic? Perhaps it makes you despair that the world is too fucked up and too far gone. And so, will you turn the song off and ignore the message, or will you have a go regardless?

Listen to some hip-hop. Is it ugly because of the way the lines are delivered, or is it beautiful for its passion? Do the beats make you nod in appreciation, the bass pumping your heart to its own beat? Or is it too repetitive? What does this say about your attention span? If, to you, it all just sounds like bullshit gangster drivel, I would suggest that you’ve bought into the mainstream music industry’s marketing ploy. Dig deeper. Find the real stuff.

What about electronic music – is it exciting, does it make you dance? Or is it just annoying doof-doof repetition? Can you see the value in loud repetitions as a vehicle for ecstatic dance, as a tool for embodied transcendental meditation? Is it not ‘real music’ because it doesn’t utilise the generic holy trinity of bass, drums and guitar? Or is it clever and creative because the artist invents new sounds from recordings and manipulations and distortions? If you think they’re not ‘real’ musicians because they don’t play popular instruments, please consider that many deejays are proficient multi-instrumentalists who want to push the envelope and evolve.

Listen to some authentic music from another sub/culture – one you don’t know much about (yet). Can you get a sense of the people, of the place, of history? If there are vocals and they’re in another tongue, can you intuit a meaning from the timbre and the way the singer releases it to your ears? Do you feel contemptuous; do you think the music is too simple or too strange for you to enjoy? Does this say something about your belief that only your sub/culture’s music has reached the epitome of artistic integrity?

Do you see foreign music as spiritual and moving even if in all likelihood they are just singing about mundane life? Does this tell you that perhaps you romanticise the Other too much? That you look outside for the spiritual, and can’t see it in your own backyard?

If in any of these you find yourself drawn to artists of one gender or sexual orientation, try something different. Does it give you a glimpse of another worldview, a tangible way to dance a thousand miles in another person’s shoes? Do lyrics that are too soft make you uncomfortable? Are you ill-at-ease with your untough side? Why do other lived realities really make you squirm?

Do misogynistic lyrics make you angry or uncomfortable in any way? What about racist or homophobic or other discriminatory language? Listen deeper. Does the artist really believe what they are singing, or are they providing a valuable social commentary by playing devil’s advocate?  Is it just for shock value, to generate controversy? If so, is there any value in that? Can you use them as an example to generate a dialogue about narrow and harmful paradigms? If they are dead serious, would the artists profess these values in the street individually, without the support of an incestuously like-minded band? Would they shout it in a crowd of those they seek to vilify, without the safety of the stage or recording studio for protection? If not, they’re likely just agent provocateurs – too weak to walk the talk.

Listen to music from way before your time. What kind of world did it emerge from? Was it ground-breaking or was it in the spirit of the age? Does it transport you back to an imagined past, or does it make you cringe? Is it surprisingly good, and what does that say about your assumption that your generation has a patent on epic music?

Listen to music your parents love. What was the soundtrack to their youths, and how does this inform your understanding of their lives before you were thought of? What was going down when you were conceived (pardon the pun), and does this put you into context?

Listen to music by very old and very young people. What are they concerned with, and can you relate? What gravity do you give these issues; can other generations relate to your weighty troubles?

Listen to the first album you ever bought. Does it still excite you or does it embarrass you? Why? Listen to the music you loved when you were rebellious, when you first took drugs, when you first made love. How does the music frame your experiences? Are the memories painful or nostalgic? Do you feel like a kid again – carefree – or is your younger self a stranger to you now? What does that say about your complicity in the world’s efforts to tame and to mould you, to clip your wings and to weigh you down with its responsibilities?

 

Setting: Experimenting with context

Do you really listen to music, or do you just use it as background noise – the soundtrack to your life? Can you choose an album and do nothing but listen to it, or do you need to hear it whilst working or exercising, doing chores or socialising? Try it. Put something on; feed it through superior speakers or headphones and just listen until it’s done.

Do you hear things you’ve never noticed before? Is there more to it than you previously assumed? Do you get lost in the layers: the high and low; soft and sharp; shallow and deep? How do they harmonise and fit in, or not? Do you find yourself swimming against the tide and overanalysing it, or do you float in oblivion? What pictures does it paint in your mind, what feelings does it invoke? Can you synthesise this and create your own music in response? Can you draw or talk or write about what you’re holding?

If you don’t usually dance or headbang, try moving and just going with what feels right. What does embodying the music do for your interpretation of it? Do the endorphins add more depth to your enjoyment? Does your whole body feel like another instrument; does the music play you instead of the other way around?

If you usually move, try being still. How does it enhance your listening when there are no other distractions? Is your whole body an extension of your ears? How does being anchored affect your listening? Try the same with your eyes opened and closed, singing along and being silent.

What music do you like to make love to, what do you like to fuck to? Do you prefer it aggressive or ephemeral? What does this say about your sexual expression? What would happen if you changed it up a bit?

If you usually go to gigs with friends or a partner, go alone next time. Is it out of your safety zone? Do you need familiar faces around you, or is your own presence enough? Did you have fun, and will you do it again?

Are you always drunk and/or high at gigs? Try going straight. Does the music sound different? Do you hear new things? Are you still having fun, and can the music be enough? Do you remember more the next day, and does the feeling stay with you longer; does it settle in deeper?

How do you discover new sounds? Through friends, or festivals, or do you do your own research? Do you allow the media to dictate for you?

Do you look at the influences of your favourite artists? What bands inspire them, what is their heritage? Look at their label mates, bands they’ve toured with, scenes they grew out of and bands they’ve come from. Look at their side-projects and collaborations. All music is connected through time and across space.

Who does your favourite version of that cover song you like? Is the original the best? Is the new interpretation blasphemy or is it tits?

Are you fiercely loyal to an artist, a genre, a scene? Can they do no wrong in your eyes/ears? What happens when they say something you don’t agree with?

Do you appreciate style changes in bands, understanding that everything eventually evolves? Or do you resent experimentation, believing that your favourite band’s sole purpose is to cater to your tastes that are stuck in time? Do you love all albums from a particular band, or are you able to wipe the stars from your eyes and be critical of less grounded efforts? Are you suspicious of them selling out, or do you empathise with their struggle between the rock of artistic integrity and the hard place of trying to pay the bills?

Do you get obsessed with an album, playing it over and over and over until you know the lyrics, every tempo change, the ins and outs by heart? Have you ever considered that this takes away its power and mystery, or do you need to have everything all figured out? What does the obsession do for you? Does it validate your worldview? Or does it close you off to other music and therefore other ways of experiencing life at the same time?

 

Coagula: Picking up and synthesising the pieces

We all go through phases: they reflect and are a reflection of our internal states. Musical phases mirror our desires and our values, but surrounding yourself with nothing but reflections of your validations, and staring at your own likeness for too long is essentially just masturbation. Are you self-serving, narcissistic? Are you wanking to your own image?

What phase are you in now, and what does it say about what’s going on in your life? What are you grateful for right now? What kind of person do you want to be, what do you want to change about yourself? Can you open up your ears and your mind? Can you shift your parameters to include different things?

Fuck oath you can. There’s a whole world of music out there waiting to be discovered. Go and play!

– Defender Of The Faith, 03.04.2013

ROLLING STONES – CAN YOU HEAR THE MUSIC?

Keith Morris

In October 2011, I interviewed Keith Morris whilst he was on the road with OFF!. We had a yarn about ‘what is wrong with the world’, the Pied Piper paradigm, his experiences with Black Flag and Circle Jerks, and evil West African warlords. The connection kept cutting out – Keith reckons that it was because he was around tall buildings, but I suspect our transmissions were being intercepted by Greys. Despite this, we had a good old bro-down and chuckle-a-thon. I’ve chosen to present our talk with minimal editing to retain the authentic tone of our conversation. I’ve kept the bad connection bullshit in so you can see how much of a patient legend he was. The original, edited version can be found here.

photo credit unknown

photo credit unknown

Hi Keithy*, how are ya mate?

Good, how are you?

 

I’m pretty good. What have you been up to?

Well, OFF! are in the van. We’re driving to the most beautiful city in this part of the world, in Texas – a town called Austin. We can see the skyline from here but it’s kinda bumper-to-bumper right now. Luckily we don’t play until about 12.30 tonight…which is kind of late for an all ages show, but hey.

 

Yeah, that is kinda late hey?

It is.

 

So, you guys are playing a few shows there and then you’re coming to Australia in December. Are you pumped for that?

Yes, we are very, very, very much looking forward to it. I have never been there before.

 

Yeah I was gonna ask if you’d ever been here…so, first time? Are you ready for the heat?

You know what? I’m getting some kinda like…it sounds like a microwave or kinda science fiction noise…

 

That’s just the UFOs in the background. The Greys are coming.

This connection is terrible. I’m getting some kind of like grindy noise on this thing. ‘Dot’, is it cool if I call you back?

 

Yeah no worries mate.

[Totally unintelligable crackly Keith robot voice and static]

 

Hello?

Hey ‘Dot’, sorry about that.

 

You’re right mate.

We’ll just try again…[more robot death crackles…I am put on hold and forced to endure some pop-punk bullshit that I later found out is Weightless’ ‘All Time Low’. Fucking terrible]. Are you there?

 

Yeah.

Is the connection clearer?

 

Yeah awesome. That sounds way better.

Hello?

 

Hi, again. That’s better, I just had the most horrible on-hold waiting music. Okay so, I was asking you about coming to Australia…

We will be there in December and I’m, like, totally psyched on this because I’ve never been there before. Mario [Rubalcaba] our drummer’s been there with his other band Earthless [as well as with Hot Snakes and Rocket From The Crypt], and Dimitri [Coates] our guitarist has been there with his other band Burning Brides. I don’t know if Steven [McDonald] our bass player, who plays in Redd Kross has been to Australia…

[“Twice!”Steven in the background]

Okay, twice. See, so I’m the guy that’s not been there, so…

 

Oooh! Virgin territory.

I guess I’m the most excited about going. All these other guys can say they’re excited but they’re only slightly excited. I’m totally excited; I’m literally shaking with anticipation [laughs].

 

Yours is legit excitement! Nice, well you’ll have to be ready for the heat because it gets a bit sticky around here in December.

But we are Southern Californians…the majority of us. [Dimitri] is the cold weather guy and he’s Polish so he can fend off any kind of weather whereas the other three of us, the three guys who are more important, the most important guys in the band, are from Southern California and that kind of climate so your weather is not that far removed. That Pacific tropical weather…we’re used to that.

 

Okay, good. I’m glad. We don’t want you faintin’. I’m pretty stoked that you guys are playing some all-ages shows, and you’re doing one tonight obviously. Is it fun to sweat on all those little kids, and get in their faces?

Um, I can barely hear you…

 

Oh I was just asking, at the all-ages gigs that you’re playing tonight and that you…

This connection is really bad again. Maybe it’s because I’m passing through a bunch of taller buildings. Maybe…I don’t know. I don’t know how these things work. Can you hear okay now?

 

Yeah, I can. Keith?

Um, speak up please? You may have to yell into the phone because it’s a bit delayed as well.

 

Can you hear me now? I’m hovering right over the phone.

Yes, I can hear you now.

 

Sweet, I’ll just hold this pose then [downward dog] for the rest of our yarn. So OFF!  came out of the ashes from a fight with Circle Jerks, who also came out of the ashes of a fight with Black Flag. I think that sets the tone really nicely for your sound, you know – that fighting, aggressive, in-your-face, balls-to-the-wall rocknroll thing.

What’s happened is we have a rash of these well-coiffed…um…it’s kind of like a giant box that is spitting out all of these big atoms, they all look and they all sound alike, maybe this is just a reaction to all of that. Also, we live in really horrible, social-political times…

 

Amen!

…that, coupled with the anger against some of the other music that’s out there, that’s not a good reason to be in a band, or doing what you’re doing. Maybe being a foil to some of this stuff…also being a mirror of some of this stuff.  What had happened was, all of the bands that I’ve usually been associated with, there’s always been some kind of aggressive anger towards certain things that are happening, and that’s also part of the fuel for what we’re doing. Plus we are having a really great time, we’re getting ready to go play in Austin, we get to travel, people like us, a lot of people are into what we are doing, and so we’re having blast. We’re having a great time.

 

I’m glad to hear that. So you were just saying that you’re pissed off at the world and what’s going on. We do live in in horrible times. There’s all kinds of terrible shit going down and people are being used and abused. You started out over thirty years ago…what things are the same that piss you off from back then and until now? What hasn’t changed?

Well, the only change really is that there’s just more of it going on. You know, more of the abuse, more financial abuse…like, we had these bailouts here, our government gave a group of people a huge bailout and they didn’t use it for what they were given the money for. They turned around and just spread it out amongst themselves rather then helping the people that the big bailout was supposed to be used for. So now we have all of these protests, and hopefully there’ll be some of these protests when we get over to Australia because it’s happened worldwide. It’s not just here. It’s kind of like there’s a group of people who control everything, and when I say everything that means in Australia, in Japan, in Europe, and we’ve pretty much had a bunch of people just string us along and lie to us, and you know, tell us how great things are, and now all of a sudden we have all of these people who are out of work, and can’t pay their bills, and being kicked out of their homes, and you know, that gets back to what I said initially – that our government gave out all of this money to these people to help these other people out and they didn’t.

 

Human greed at it’s finest, right?

Yeah, it’s really easy, when you see all of this abuse…when you see it next to you, you see it happening to your friends, you see it happening to your relatives, it’s really easy to be angry.

 

Yeah, definitely. It’s all connected. The music industry especially these days is part of that mega-machine of just churning out marketable, happy-sounding, money-making shit. And it’s nice that you guys don’t.

They’re doing that to save their jobs and the people that buy that probably don’t know any better. They wouldn’t know bad art from great art. But the situation with the record companies – because they’re in such financial disarray – they ordered it…they started scrambling to save their jobs and at one point they had become more important than the musicians and the artists, then the bands they were putting out. So they really have nobody to blame but themselves. If they lose their jobs, fine, they can go stand in the unemployment line, because a lot of them deserve to lose their jobs, just for of the shit they’ve put out. It’s a form of karma.

 

It is! They create all this bullshit, horrible music that gets put out and it ends up biting them on the arse. And that’s pure poetry.

Yeah!

 

So I was watching those Room 205 vids the other day…

Yeah, that was our friend Ari who works for a company called Incase. He’s a big fan and we spent the day…[crackling synthed Keith voice, unintelligible answer]…during the hottest day of Summer.

 

I didn’t get a lot of what you just said Keith, it cut out.

Well I’m passing through a bunch of tall buildings. This connection is not that happening.

 

Fucken Greys…well, we’ll just see what we can do anyway. The film clip for Black Thoughts shows Raymond Pettibon creating the artwork that you guys are using. It’s awesome to see him featured in that film because you have been tied in with him from the start.

Well, he and I have been friends since the very beginning of Black Flag. We were actually friends in high school, so we go further back than even Black Flag. But he has always helped out and has always wanted to be part of the scene. He sensed the energy. He realised that what we’re doing is very similar to what happened when we were all hanging out and partying at a place called The Church in Hermosa Beach. And Dimitri and I played him four songs and he immediately caught on to what the vibe was about and he offered up his services; he volunteered. He wanted to be a part of it. See he knows that we’re tapping in to something that took place about thirty years ago and he senses the energy, he senses the vibe. He knows that it’s very exciting and he wants to be a part of it.

 

Yeah, well it goes down really well. Are OFF! working on any new songs, or are you planning to record a new album anytime soon?

We will start chipping away at some new songs when we get back. I mean, we’ve tossed around some ideas. We’ve got music for a couple of songs. I constantly do what Mike Watt from Minutemen and Iggy and The Stooges would say to be the ‘D. Boon method’. D. Boon was the guitarist and the vocalist from the Minutemen, and what it is, it’s when you come up with an idea and you just write words down here and there and then eventually you build upon it. I think it would be like, say, if you were making a movie, it would be like using the Francis Ford Coppola method where you would start off with the skeleton and then you start putting on muscle, and then you start putting flesh on top of the muscle, so you come up with a basic idea and then you expand upon it.

 

Just fleshing out the skeleton, right?

It’s the heart of darkness. There’s that word again – darkness. Black thoughts, darkness…

 

Dark party

Apocalypse now

 

Apocalypse, death, destruction; all of that…

[both of us laughing]

 

So last year, or was it the year before? There were ‘creative differences’ you had with the rest of the guys from Circle Jerks. I guess you’ll always be friends, but are you on good speaking terms still?

I actually am friends with a couple of the guys. I don’t really spend that much time around them. I don’t really have a reason to because I am in a band, we’re out playing and travelling, and making new friends, and making new fans, and going across the country, and having all of the little kids follow us around, and Steven’s playing the flute, like Peter Pan…

 

The Pied Piper?

…the Pied Piper, yeah. You know what? We’re in an alleyway right now and I don’t know if you can hear me, but..

 

I can…I can hear you fine…

Okay. The Pied Piper…

 

…leading the rats, and then the children…

[laughs] …all of the little kids…

 

…all at the all-ages shows…

[laughs] …that’s nice…

 

Back to what you were just saying – that you don’t have the time to sit around and hold grudges because you’re out there doing your own thing now. You’ve got this new band, and you sound amazing, and you’re doing really well, you’re having fun and it seems that that’s the case with the last two bands too. When you start a new band, you don’t sit around and mope. You’re still really respected in the eyes of all your fans and you’re just exploring something new and I think that’s really cool.

We’ve gotta keep the energy going, and keep it rolling. Take it everywhere; take it as many places as we can. What I would like to do though, when it comes to that band that I was in for over thirty years [Circle Jerks], is I would like to thank them for allowing me to be sitting outside the Red7 in Austin, Texas, ‘cos we’re gonna be playing later on and we’re gonna have the fucking time of our lives.

 

Fuck yeah.

There are no fucken hang-ups, there are no chains around any ankles, no there’s no albatross around anybody’s neck. If there is, it’s around theirs. I get to move forward, I get to have a great time. I get to have a blast! [laughs]

 

[laughs] Good. It sounds like you are. So are there any other creative things that you do when you’re not rocking the fuck out in OFF!?

Well, I’ve been encouraged to write a book, which I’ve known that I needed to write a book for years – just to get all of that crap out of my head. So I have been chipping away on a book. My friend Brendan Mullen – you might wanna Google Brendan Mullen, who was the guy who pretty much put punk rock on the map in Los Angeles with the underground venue called The Masque – had been encouraging me to write a book. And my friend Brendan has written and worked on books, he did a Jane’s Addiction book and he was working on the third re-write of a Red Hot Chili Peppers book. But he’d also written a book called We Got The Neutron Bomb [The Untold Story Of  LA Punk], and that would be the history of LA punk, like The Weirdos, The Alley Cats, and X, Zeros, Germs, TSOL, Flesh Eaters, Middle Class, and so I started chipping away on stories. I’m about six stories in on a book that’s probably gonna have a minimum of maybe twenty to twenty-five chapters in it with varying stories from Black Flag, Circle Jerks, growing up at the Beach, sneaking into the Hollywood Bowl.

 

Nice.

I’m also about a third of the way through on a story for a movie. I have a friend, Richard Edson – who is part of Jim Jarmusch’s  stable – tell me that “you don’t write a movie script anymore, you have to write a book.” What they are doing is, they’re going around and they’re buying up the rights to books and someone else then writes the screenplay for it, and then they make a movie out of it. When I get ready to do my movie – depending upon how I go about doing it, if I just sell it outright to somebody, or if I get people to help produce it – having lived in Hollywood and having done what I’ve done over all of the years, I’ve made a lot of really great friends and a lot of really great connections in the movie world.

 

Yeah of course. So what’s the movie gonna be about?

It’s going to be about me [laughs], egotistically speaking [laughs]. It’s a dark comedy. A major portion of the story takes place on the West Coast of Africa. Like, the areas of Monrovia and Freetown.  One of the major characters of the movie is a guy who is in prison right now for human rights violations. And when I say violations, the human rights people say that this guy was probably the most brutal character that has ever walked the face of the earth.

 

And who are you talking about?

One of the presidents or dictators there on the West Coast of Africa. Chopping people’s arms off, chopping their legs off, chopping off ears, yeah.

[Could he mean this guy?]

 

Evil. Any last words Keith?

You write for an Australian magazine? So you’re all over Australia?

 

Yeah…

Well where out of Australia do you work out of?

 

At the moment I’m on the Gold Coast, which is about an hour south of Brisbane.

Okay. We’re gonna be playing Brisbane, which is where you’re gonna come to see us?

 

Of course! I’ll be there, front row, centre, sweating, singing…I’ll be there. And everybody else I know will be there too.

Will you be blowing kisses or will you be throwing drinks?

 

I’ll be throwing my hair around and jumping all over everybody, and singing and screaming and sweating.

Well, I guess the way we would want to end this conversation for this time and space, you know, we can talk later on, but…is just to let everybody know to come and have fun, jump around, scream and yell…

 

Oh they will! I’m sure you’ll pack the place out. Definitely mate, definitely. Well listen, have an awesome night tonight and enjoy the rest of your trip and I’ll see you real soon.

Okay, cheers!

 

Cheers mate, bye!

 

Interview by Defender Of the Faith in October 2011 for Australian Hysteria Magazine.

 

KEITHY’S DONE HIMSELF A MISCHIEF!

 

*Yep, I called him Keithy in my best Chopper voice. I actually couldn’t help it – honestly.

Limp Wrist

photo by Bad Bitch#1

photo by Bad Bitch#1

Last Friday night Bad Bitch#1, Tater Tot and I had plans to go to M.I.A. at The Enmore; it is the reason why I cut short my holiday on the Coast to drive back early to Sydney. However, we doubted the outcome of this plan as we supped upon cider in Newtown that afternoon. I looked up tickets and realised that when including booking fee, credit card fee and other such bullshit Capitalist profiteering, M.I.A was going to cost us around $95 a pop. I do understand the expenses involved for bands touring to our fair island. In Europe and the USA, a band can theoretically perform >ten shows along a ten hour stretch of road and be able to sell a decent amount of tickets. In Straya, you drive ten hours, petrol is some XP€N$IV $H1T and you may only come across one or two townships on this journey  that could support you. That said, $95 is bullshit no matter how you look at it. And personally, whilst I like M.I.A and I have confidence that the show would have been rad, the pricing deeply offended my punk rock sensibilities.

But lo! After digging around within the internet, I was stopped in my tracks by the news that Limp Wrist were playing that night. In my summer-addled mental state of weeks past, I had misguidedly thought that I had already missed their Australian tour over NYE. Armed with the knowledge that they were indeed going to smear their scat all over the Annandale that very evening, my despondency went into retirement and party animal excitement reared its ugly head again. The best part? $25 a ticket, with Hard-Ons supporting. There was no contest in my mind, and with steely determination I quickly convinced Bad Bitch#1 and Tater Tot to come to the dark side.

And so, I went to this gig with my gal pals , something I’ve only done once before. In the fourteenish years that I have been going to gigs, it’s sometimes been me riding solo, or oftentimes with all dude men, but usually with a majority men and a smattering of womenfolk. There has been one exeption last year, when Bad Bitch#1, Lucy Graves, SJA and I all went up to see The Drones at the Hi-Fi in Brisbane. It was a killer gig and an even better drive home. Bad Bitch#1 was driving and she had a stroke of genius when she put on Sing Sing Death House. We cranked it and shouted, growled and screamed every word, full bore, until the last chord. Never have I partaken in a more righteous singalong; the only one that comes close is when Grogan, Coen, other youthful metal kids and I formed the All-Australian Backseat Metal Choir on our way to some mini-metal fest years ago in Brisbane. I dig the cliché that went down post-Drones – ‘twas truly a vagfest made even more devotionally feminine with our vocal worship of Dory Belle Brody Dalle.

Before Limp Wrist, we boozeth at mine and walked to the venue. I had had a cunt of a week with no reprieve, but as soon as I walked into that pub and was surrounded by ugly-beautiful, real-smelling humans of all shapes, sizes and colours, my mood lifted heaven-ward. The relief was palpable and it reminded me that no matter what goes down, punk rock will always have my back. Although we missed Glory Hole, by all accounts they were a worthy first support. We only caught the last two songs of Shit Weather and I was pleasantly surprised by my maiden experience of them. I was worried that my gals would be resentful of me instigating this game change so late in the plan – having had their hearts so set on M.I.A. – but they convinceth me that they were pumped also and so my heart began to rest easy.

Hard-Ons were fucking grouse. It’s been a long time since I saw them at Cooly Hotel back in 2004 or 2005. That night, I was drunk as shit and thrashing intensely and the bass player commented on my DRI shirt, which led me to reason that somebody with such good taste in music was worth following. I also meant to go to their last tour but Blackie went and got himself bashed, silly bugger, and I didn’t go see his replacements. But last Friday night, it only took me two songs in to realise how fucking good Hard-Ons really truly are. Once they kicked into their raucous thrashy shit I was sold. I looked over at the gals and could see that they were pumped also. No guilt, no regrets!

Ray Ahn (bass) was piss-funny as usual and went in to some righteous ranting between songs. My personal favourite was when he spoke of the new plans for corporations to offer civilians outer space holidays. He surmised that with Tiger and Jetstar lowering their prices to an affordability that the average Aussie could accept, we were well on our way to having a bogan exodus to the moon. In light of this, he predicted a surge in Schapelle Corby-esque bud-smuggling in boogie-board bags. Let my judgement be known: Raymond Ahn is a genius of the highest comedic calibre.

Limp Wrist took the stage, resplendent in short shorts, leather, demin, biker hats and chains. They are the death of the newest and shittest incarnation of Turbonegro; Limp Wrist are true queer and true punk and they put their money where their fleshy, salivating mouths are; outgaying all imposters for life! Music-wise, these cunts are fast and filthy and would be a proud addition to any hardcore fan’s collection. I stood up the back with my gals, getting drunker and sweatier and more infected by the energy raised. I reached the point of maximum annihilation a few songs in when I realised I was at the hardcore show of the year (big call, I know, but I defy you to prove me wrong any time soon) and I was standing at the fucking back of the pit. What had become of me? I felt sad, old, pathetic and a traitor to everything I stood for. “Fuck this,” I said to myself, “I’m from Tweed!” and with my resolve set, I pushed my way to the front and centre as easy as you please. I was swept up in the energy immediately and got lost in the filth and the fury of it all. It was rad to be at a gig where there are no fuckwits showing off their ninja moves with serious faces, just a sea of stinking bodies sweating torrentially all over one another, purely smiles and loose-limbs and non-self-conscious oblivion. The pit was tight enough for crowd surfers to roll over every couple of minutes, and when someone fell down they were not down for long. Such is the beauteousness of violent but loving punk rock pit-politics.

A few times we had the privilege of supporting Martin’s hefty weight on our downtrodden arms, but he wasn’t heavy cos he’s our brother. I was pumped when he pulled me up out of the crowd to sing in his face and my unholy voice reigned supreme momentarily, but never to be forgotten. The first time I crowd-surfed, I pulled myself up onto the stage, did a sick ninja kick and then sprawled out into the worshipping arms of my Sisters and Brethren in the pit. I was floating on a sea of love and went back for more a few songs later. The second time, I again approached from the stage and did a sweet forward somersault into the writhing mass of flesh beneath me. I felt like I was fifteen again and that is the most elite feeling in the world. Punk rock is the elixir of youth, and relearning my unshakeable faith in the strength and camaraderie of my fellow thrash lords makes it an honour to be human. “I Love Hardcore Boys / I Love Boys Hardcore” was played last, and my heart swelled with euphoria to hear my favourite song live at the end of such a phenomenal set.

Afterwards, I saw Blackie and told him how much fun I had, then thanked him. He thanked me, to which I countered, “No! Thank YOU!” and he tried to thank me more so I told him I’d fight him if he kept trying to lay the blame for such awesomeness on my unworthy conscience. Lucky he thought it was funny; a lesser human could have been offended in light of recent events. I bought a Limp Wrist shirt and the merch dude suggested I get it signed by Martin who standeth nearby. I had no pen, but he gave me a very sweaty Hairy Bear hug and let me wipe the cloth over his perspiring arse, which is a far-superior stamp of approval in my opinion.

Outside, Bad Bitch#1, Tater Tot and I were yarning with some dudes about the gig and such forth. I was engaged in conversation with a tall and smiling messy-haired skate rat, and we speaketh of unknown rad bands that we thought the other should know of. We swapped phone numbers and have since sent suggestions and files to and fro. I would like to thank him for the heads-up on The Mentally Unstable who have been getting a solid work-out the last week, and I hope that Gravelrash was a worthy exchange for him. Tater Tot had her mojo rising and pashed one of the dudes with a full assault and left him gasping. She later jumped into a cab full of these boys for round two. Bad Bitch#1 and I pissed our jeans laughing at her antics, then we all went across the road, sunk more piss and regaled each other with tales of fighting from our teenage years.

In summary, short and sweet: that was a faultless night, filled with good company old and new, and a fucking epic start to this new year. Limp Wrist and Hard-Ons, I thank you from the bottom of my cold, black heart for creating such fond thrash-filled memories. Much love!

– Defender Of The Faith,  12.01.2013

Metal Battles and Traffic Jams

Hard Lines, Sunken Cheeks

One weekend a few months ago, I made plans to visit my Dad at his place in the outer suburbs of my city, about half an hour away from me. Being the procrastinator I try hard not to be (but unfortunately am on lazy Saturdays when no work needs doing and I just want to sit in the sunshine and write), I left at 11.45am in order to pick him up at midday. The main road from my house to the highway was moving slowly because of the abundant number of fellow Saturday drivers. This was compounded with the eighteen thousand sets of traffic lights that punctuate the relatively straight run towards the city’s west, like unnecessary semicolons; in an otherwise flowing sentence.

At around the quarter way mark, I was perched up in the fastest-moving right hand lane and I cranketh my iPod via the radio on my shitty twenty-year-old speaker system. Everything sounds harsh – simultaneously tinny and bassy – through these ancient Magna artefacts. There’s no point in listening to beautifully layered and complex compositions through them because the EQ is non-existent, and all nuances are lost in the crude translation of my speakers. Early hardcore with down-tuned guitars or filthy black metal or balls-to-the-wall thrash are adequate though. Sure, it’s not the ideal way to listen to anything, but through a five year process of trial and error I’ve surmised that the only shit that sounds halfway decent in my car is dirty, hard and heavy rock and roll. I proceeded at a slow crawl along this congested track thusly, skipping anything too complicated and letting loose all that was raw enough to take the narrow range of my speakers.

Early Mastodon was crackling through my car when I noticed him. He was in the car in front of me and it appeared as though he kept looking back at me through his rear and side mirrors. As a paranoid type, I dismissed the thought for a little while. However, I was soon certain that he was in fact looking at the blood red Slayer sticker dripping down my front windscreen. I observed him beginning to jerk his head and drum upon the steering wheel, throwing a sly cymbal crash out the window every now and then with his invisible stick. He then started headbanging in a form that my Brother in Hell and I have termed ‘old-school anger thrashing’.

My Brother and I are both fond of any old-school headbanging style, and oftentimes we have admired Metal Lords at gigs engaging with the musical assault with such direct, intense and no-frills approaches. My Brother is old-school himself, favouring dramatic power stances and a rotational direction of the neck for maximum windmilling of the hair, one fist usually held aloft unyieldingly to penetrate the air. I’m more of a mover and shaker, letting the energy take me where it will – sometimes front and centre of the pit to absorb the band’s stage presence from close quarters, or rarely up the back to take in the atmosphere of the gig holistically, but usually in and amongst Sisters and Brethren in the pit – thrashing, jumping and fist-pumping proudly, furiously banging the head on the end of my long and sinuous neck in triumph.

As I observed this fellow Metal Lord in front of me, he took his hair from out of his ponytail and shook it out brazenly (all the better to headbang with, my dears). I was amused no end, watching him lock into whatever song it was that he was cranking. I wondered what it was that was causing him to move so joyously. Whilst I understand the principals of ‘each to their own’ and other similar Crowley-type rhetoric, I must confess I am a fairly judgemental cunt when it comes to metal. Fortunately, I love most styles and can appreciate everything from the most serious of Opeth to the most ridiculous of Manowar. Yet I do draw lines, and respect has been lost by many an otherwise cool person simply by talking enthusiastically about music that I deem shit. Was this guy as legit as he was making out, or was he wasting valuable thrash energy on unworthy offerings?

To find out, I snuck into the left lane and crawled up beside him, turning my own music down. Luckily, his passenger side window was open and I could clearly discern Meshuggah’s Bleed blaring out of his far superior speakers. This was good; all was right with the world and this Metal Lord was okay in my book. His song finished just as Darkthrone’s Witch Ghetto clicked over on mine. I cranketh, and Fenriz’ dirty voice carried past me and to the ears of Metal Lord next door. He looked over and nodded his approval and we both sat, silently thrashing as we waited for the lights to change. I could see him fiddling with his console in preparation for his next turn. His selection was Pantera’s Cowboys From Hell – a classic and decently heavy song, even if a somewhat obvious and safe choice for a Metal Battle. Nonetheless, I nodded in appreciation and we listened to it the whole way to the next set of lights.

What was I going to do next? Nothing cheesy. No fucking around. As I skipped through each iPod suggestion in anticipation of Dimebag’s last solo, I was getting worried that Anselmo’s final “oorgh!” was closing in. However, relief and pride filled me as Amon Amarth rode into battle to save the day, swords blazing With Oden On Our Side. I glanced next door and Metal Lord was clearly as pumped as I. We sat there in unity, headbanging appreciatively on that hot Autumn Saturday, separated by metal vehicles, yet united by a love for metal that is true and good.

Soon, a gap in the traffic appeared and I burned off down the road opportunistically. As I looked back in my rearview mirror, I saw that Metal Lord had thrown me the horns and I returned in kind, saluting a worthy metal brother with the triumphant sounds of Viking bloodlust and violence renting the air.

Defender Of The Faith  – 19.09.12