Sex and drugs and rock'n'roll is all
my brain and body need
As you know, I've been writing little music
blurbs for the NY Press for a few weeks now. It's a nice
little outlet, since I see a lot of bands anyway, and nobody
I know wants to hear about it. It's low pressure, and up until
recently I thought there wasn't much attention paid to it. I
still don't know what kind of person reads the Press, I mean,
I know people read it, but I'm unsure what the Readership is
supposed to be. Anyway, I've been noticing that my blurbs keep
getting severely edited by the time they reach the paper, not
just for length and clarity, but for content. The editor keeps
changing entire phrases in these little 100-word bits to suit
some perceived demographic need. And it's pissing me off!
I think they're expecting me to be some kind of super-gonzo,
drugged-out hipster type, who says "crazy" stuff
about the "crazy" bands I see, common sense be damned.
So my previews are now littered with odd phrases like "spattering
the audience with vomit and cheese," or describing a
band's sound with "a telegraph tapping out: 'good news,
your mother's dead!'" I haven't the slightest idea why
this is better than the stuff i wrote originally, and I sort
of don't care. It seems like if they want people to write
about bands, then they should accept what they get (nobody
gets paid for these little articles anyway). If they have
a problem with my writing style, they could give me some pointers
instead of this passive-aggressive crap they sling on my pieces.
It's as though they don't really want somebody writing realistically
about what's going on in the music scene; they want somebody
to make the paper sound like it's cooler than it actually
is. Well, I've never been able to make anything sound cool,
and even if I could, I doubt I'd want this paper to benefit.
But maybe I should just learn to play ball. It's a nice opportunity,
and as I have learned, content itself is not much thought
of in this world, it's all about style. You can have the lamest
band in the world, but if you hype it up as The Next Big Thing,
people will eventually fall in line. Same with writing, or
any other art. These days, it's not about what you do but
how many people are talking about it. Thanks to smart people
like Nick Denton, content is just commodity. Nobody cares
what you say. So here's my new piece for the preview section:
Man, I am still high from the last show
by The Crummies. High on sniffin' that high-octane rock,
and also high on Tina which the lead singer gave me after
I blew him in the toilet. That's dedication to the Rock
Scene. He knows what to do with the panty-waists who can't
handle the angular-dissonant-atmospheric-soundscape sturm
und drang he lays down: he says "all you posers
can suck my pimply dick." And suck we do. With influences
as far ranging as The Strokes to the Ramones, The Crummies
aren't afraid to make enemies. Armed with three chords,
more whiskey than your mother can drink in a day, and their
hot chick fanbase, they shred through gigs like John DeLorean
through bing. But you know what? You ain't hard enough for
this supa-dupa-fly maximum drunken-roll. Get in line, ya
sissies. The Crummies are talent-free and looking for head.
Open wide!
Sounds pretty good! Maybe I should just replace the band
name with "Motico"
and then sit back and watch the NYU kids stream into Ace
of Clubs on Sunday (we play at 10:00 PM). Will I be propositioned
in the men's room? Yes, that's exactly why I started playing
music in the first place. Who wants to perform fellatio on
us Sunday night? Come out to the show and we'll see what we
can do.
Posted By Jimmy Legs
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