We (humans) have spent the last +/- 200,000 years evolving away from the Neanderthals and into our current state. Along the way we developed things like agriculture, fishing boats, cameras that land on comets, internet porn, and most importantly, music.
In the early days, people just yelled at each other and banged sticks against their heads until they realized that harmonious frequencies were much more pleasant. Since then, music has been celebrated, studied, and lived for over many years. It’s a big fucking deal. So, you’d think that it would all be operating at an all-time high level of bad ass, but in the past thirty years many bands have decided to wash away all the eloquent sounds we have and revert to our ancestors’ concept of noise. They did this primarily with expensive guitar pedals, preamps, and modulators that require a science degree to operate, but end up sound nothing like music.
What the fuck is a noise band? How is that a thing? There used to be a distinction between noise and music, but there are thousands of bands out there that literally say that they play noise (rock, blues, psyche, garage, ect). You’re not a band, you are people that go onstage and physically play instruments, but I’m not convinced you listen to a god damned note you play.
The internet has made it far too easy for stupid people to become famous. Whichever attention starved, Sid Vicious worshiping hipster wants to be seen can learn a few bass notes while eating a bowl of cocoa puffs and somehow find a stage that will let them play. They will swear to you this music their band spent two weeks crafting is the essence of all life when in reality it’s just a couple dudes going back and forth between two chords while someone throat-sings gibberish. But they all swear to its originality because of the mad reverb.
These are the people that still don’t find flaws in the Sid Vicious’ lifestyle. They see him as the voice that stood up for a generation that he (somewhat) was a part of. In actuality, he was a talentless hack that could barely count to four or hold a beat to extremely easy progressions. He really didn’t do anything anyone could consider an accomplishment before dying of a heroin overdose, yet he’s often credited for being a genius.
Unfortunately most of us live in reality and are occasionally forced to listen to his idolaters opening for a real artist (I’m looking at you Magic Fades. Just kiddin’; no, really.). Thanks to the power of a stage, we will always have people that want attention so much they teamed up with their uncle’s friend who makes guitar pedals that sound like two cats blowing each other in the Lloyd Center parking lot.
To some degree I get it. You are really into music and you want people to listen to you. Who doesn’t? Lord knows I do. That’s why I write condescending blog posts to feed my oversized ego. It’s still obnoxious and crude and lets out all my insecurities to get run over by my own vanity. And whenever blogging doesn’t cut it, I double down as a dayshift stripper at the Boom Boom Room (Thursdays, ask for Maverick). Eventually I’ll make it further onto the downtown circuit, but I’m not mad that none of the big clubs will let me on their stage. I’ll be there one day. Plus, I’m just doing this while I go to school. Totally not mad. It’s their loss.
Look, all I’m saying is there are a thousand ways to let out your creativity but please leave the music up to the musicians.