A difference of opinion with myself

circular argument ago-go; short attention span bonus of two videos

I am a hypocrite. No, let me try that again. I am a complete fucking hypocrite. You know those people who moan that 'this bloody country' is dumbing down, getting stupid, lazy and contrite? That's because of me and people like me. I am a louse, a weed in a coat. A one-man surrender unit. I should be brutally done away with. It's only a million hypocritical shitguards like me who prevent me being found face down in a landfill 2000 years from now.

I have a job at Manchester University's weekly student newspaper as a music editor. I sub-edit, and occasionally write, copy - dealing with the dozens of gigs, records, interviews and other sundries the mega-conglomos deign to send us (I remember Sean Paul's management sending signed string-vests a few years back).

Last week, I reviewed the new Alice In Chains record. It was predictably duff. Here is what I said about it.

Grunge was over-rated. It grunted, griped and groused without grace, gumption or guile. At best it was a regional scene fussed over to a ridiculous degree. What began as disaffected outsider musing became backward-capped rock for middle-class jocks to blast in SUVs on the ride to the mall.

Alice In Chains were also-rans in the Great Grunge Boom of those early '90s, their shtick being a heavier, oblique take on the genre; hits included the indulgent dirge 'Them Bones' and the dirgily indulgent 'Rooster'. Variety and fun? Not in their navy!

Black Gives Way To Blue is their first full-length release in 14 years. Original vocalist Layne Staley may have shuffled off this mortal coil but he remains curiously present, not only in terms of subject matter, but because hired hand William DuVall can do an uncanny impression of the dearly departed.

There's no reason a fan of the original line-up should dislike this; it's as self-regarding, bloated and rigid as the group ever was. 'A Looking In View', the first single, serves as overture; plodding, over-produced and hopelessly irrelevant. Of course, it's immaculately performed and technically very adept; musicians as smug and macho as this demand it at the expense of any form of recognisable human expression.

The chainsaw-speeding-up-and-slowing-down riff to 'Check My Brain' is wasted on a song that doesn't get anywhere. The circular melodies and understated harmony on 'Private Hell' begin to mark it out as a diamond in the rough until the instincts to rock out – whilst kicking absolutely no ass whatsoever – take over.

The sad thing about this florid review is that it is absolutely nowhere near the truth of this despicable piece of shit. What I wanted to write was as many furiously hate-filled synonyms as I could, perhaps outlining some manifesto wherein bands who make systematically cynical and god-awful music as this could theoretically be sent to some kind of musicians' gulag for crimes against the human ear.

But then I started to think about the spurious notion of 'decorum' and how my inate sense of British politeness prevents me from being completely ruinous. Invective is poor show, old bean, pithiness is the way ahead.

Then I started to think about the press company that sent the record in good faith; they may be in the hot air business, but they're just normal men and women in jobs, trying to do their best for the lazy rich gits that appoint them to do their bidding.

After that I started to think about the newspaper itself; what if the press people stopped sending us records? It's not like they need to send shit to us anyway, we're basically just a student paper when you boil it down - students being the most likely to steal records, much as they are likely to steal other intellectual properties, such as entire fucking essays - so why bother marketing to the most morally corrupt of the demographics? We can't review fresh air.

And don't think that record execs and their nabobs can take the joke. The saying - 'any publicity is good publicity' - you know that one? Utter shite. Polydor refused to send a Robbie Williams record to us in the past because I'd slated another one of their acts weeks previously.

Then I started to think about the editor, and my fellow music sub-editors. They willingly entered into social contract with a normal person, not a person who thinks that an appropriate punishment for Mika for his crimes against music would be to suffer a similar fate as the man in the glasses in the video below. I like the relationships we have.



Other thoughts spiralled; what if I have a career in this and I ruin it by getting a reputation as someone who only stokes up controversy and bad relationships? Should I engender a better relationship with readers by slowly dragging them into my 'style' and then bring out the 'real opinion' later? What do I really think anyway? Do I even fucking know anymore?

By now, the copy is so imbued with outside concerns, second guessing and your basic level of flim-flam that it's basically as compromised as the godawful music it covers; lobotomised, hampered and kneeling. Why don't I just give them five stars and a hearty pat on the back for all the self-censorship it has endured?

Of course, this is the reason that everyone apart from the terminally insane is hypocritical to some degree; instinctual decisions in developed humans do not exist. All our decisions are to please someone else, or to present a version of ourselves that is more pleasing. The amount of times you could have left the house wearing a 'Macho Man' t-shirt and shorts, smelling of fetid kebab meat, only to think that someone you fancy might be around and potentially showing interest, marks you too out as a walking compromise too.



(Have you honestly heard such pointless cock in your life? Fucking plodding sex-free, humour-free US flag arsewaving...I could go on)

It is possible to live with yourself, to look in the mirror and be fine, because it is a natural state of living; deeds at odds with words. What really marks a person out as special is if they can cohere the two when it matters - and this daft rock record isn't one of those times.

Issue two out on Monday.

Filmism #3

It's that season where the cinema is full of the kind of stuff you'd save for possible DVD rental. From an idle forum post about the Academy awards comes a fully-formed moan.

OSCAR - Only Seriousfilm Considered And Rewarded
self-reward for hilarious opening gag sets tone about meaningless statuette rant

As much as it's still a remarkable achievement to win, or even be nominated for, an Academy Award (more so, given the democratisation of technology), it appears that to win Best Picture these days, you have to adhere to a strict criteria:

- 'Middlebrow'. Tackles an 'issue' rather than a 'concept'.
- Weighty lead roles by middlebrow actors; actors who have never, even accidentally, appeared in a screwball comedy.
- Preferably a veteran of Hollywood directing.
- A relative marriage of scale and tastefulness.
- Major studio backed.

Other caveats that come into play often are some notion of reward for culmulative effort (Danny Boyle this year), the well-made biopic/film that retells a moment in a famous person's life that allegorises their life (the last five years have been very heavy on this: The Aviator, Ray, Capote, The Queen, Michael Clayton, Frost/Nixon, Milk) and occasionally a musical will squeeze through the net to placate various groups.

To think that this year's nominees are the pre-eminent 'superior pictures' is somewhat misguided, it's just that this year's best films fall into the net assembled by the Academy to catch those excellent works not meeting the criteria above. And don't think this is some pro-independence/anti-Hollywood diatribe; Hollywood and other 'large system' methods are increasingly finding money for alternative voices, whereas independent cinema seems stuck in a rut, at least in its English-speaking heartlands.

The Dark Knight, for instance, despite its flaws, is a better film on every conceivable level than The Reader. The former is exciting, keen, visual, metaphorical, exploratory and tumultuous whereas the latter is dour, safe, pseudo-intellectual, literal, flaccid and smug. The former is a cinematic experience, as much as the tale stands on its own merits, it takes advantage of all of the things the anti-piracy/pro-cinema adverts want you to believe. The latter would struggle to look classy on The Hallmark Channel. However, The Dark Knight wins recognition for everything apart the film itself or its director; shoved into a niche, a number to put on the poster.

A better film than all nominated was Werner Herzog's Encounters At The End Of The World. As good as those were Waltz With Bashir and the peerless Wall-E. But they're niche films: documentary, foreign and animated respectively. And no clever marketing strategy, 'culmulative effort' pleas or implorations of the work's gravitas is going to crack the hegemony of the Best Picture nomination circle jerk.



Largely, it has always been this way. Post-war exceptions to the rule, and possible explainations for it, are:

Marty (1955) - a weak year, a reaction to a true heavyweight the previous year, Paddy Chayevsky on board.
- The Sting (1973) - other nominations split the vote, marquee cast. Noteably this year saw a Swedish film (Cries and Whispers) nominated for the central gong, so perhaps everyone went mad in this year.
- Annie Hall (1977) - weak opposition, a 'coming of age',
- Shakespeare In Love (1998) - weak opposition, strong cast, no apparent flaws, not strictly a 'comedy'.

As alluded in my glib sub-heading, these awards are ultimately meaningless. It's just that the idea that people are talking about essentially decent-or-not-even films such as The Reader, Frost/Nixon or - and I hate to say this, as a fan of Danny Boyle - Slumdog Millionaire as 'the best picture' makes something in my throat feel a little dry. One is reminded of those god-awful Q Awards where the 'best act in the world today' is some dreadful guitar-slinging white bunch for Mondeo drivers. Coldplay indeed.

Esoterica #1

The first in a weekly feature investigating some of the less familiar parts of the Art In Macro physical collection; from demos, to limited editions, bootlegs and vanity presses, unusual sizes, shapes and colours of vinyl. Basically the kind of stuff you can't find in the shops anymore, or never could.

Riding Shotgun By Starlight...With The Ominous Sigh!, "Just Trying To Find My Way Home"
TECHNICAL INFO: CD, self-released (Cheguevaraisnotdead Recordings), 2005

Scott Coleman, the brainchild of RSBSWTOS, is the subject of one of my favourite rock and roll stories. Whether it is urban myth or fact, I don't know. Importantly, it doesn't really matter; it was a perfect way of deconstructing the milieu of the man himself.



A friend, who was recording the debut LP (this one is the follow-up), set up the click track for Scott to play along with. Record is hit, and Scott plays the first guitar track. The rhythmic constant of the pulsing metronome is flatly ignored, the music wandering behind and then suddenly leaping ahead. The friend was tearing his hair out, anticipating a lengthy and irritating session of tracking and re-tracking. When finished, the friend, looking to tread lightly, informed Scott that it could do with recording again. Scott declined, preferring to record the second guitar line without the click. Obligingly, my friend did as instructed, despite how abstract and seemingly error-strewn take one was.

What happened next was magical; Scott played the counterpoint track in exact time with his first track. Whilst, to 'common' hearing, still seemed arhythmic and microtonal, it was all exactly as intended. His music had developed its own language, its own logic; it made perfect sense, it could be replicated endlessly, but only by him.

In the early days, his performances were the stuff of legend. Taking to the stage armed with voice and a Fender Stratocaster with ten pedals, billed as 'a one-man art rock explosion', he'd proceed to lay waste to the night. Simply ignoring the man was not an option; he either stunned you into attention or drove you fleeing from the room in sheer terror. This sense of room-bursting horror was heightened when he landed an opening slot for Monitor Records band EZT on a UK tour, bringing doses of sonic ectoplasm nightly.



The record I own is a later effort, when a rhythm section was added. Whilst it does reign in some of the more outre parts of the early material, the lengthy psychedelic/hard-rock tendencies remain, the shifting dynamics and heart-on-sleeve vocals remain. 'Fairfield, Iowa' is more plaintive, mourning a distant love.

He was in our life and is out again. Currently playing in a London-based band White Shoes, Black Heart - a more conventionally rocking affair.

Filmism #2

A financially lean holiday season sees Art In Macro turn to the television for comfort. Later, a conversation about this turns into debate between friends. The debate?

NICOLAS CAGE IS/IS NOT THE WORST ACTOR EVER
Critical roundtable reconvenes

As there are so many people in the world, it is naive to think that any thought you have is entirely original: no matter how crass, wrongheaded, cruel or narcissistic it is, someone else thinks it too. Back at my parents, I am watching Face/Off, a mildly entertaining action film with a flimsy premise (though plenty high-octane thrills and spills), and Con Air, a mildly entertaining action film with a flimsy premise (though plenty high-octane thrills and spills). I am in awe.



Let us understand the concept of what £10-14m can buy in terms of the movie-making business. The best cameras, access to the most suitable locations, extravagant sets, rafts of extras, hundreds of cars to load with gelignite and set ablaze. The finest editor, cinematographer, crew, catering and a high-quality second unit for those boring reshoots and landscapes.

Alternatively, you can hire an actor who is routinely out-performed by his own haircut. Art In Macro reconvened the roundtable to investigate this modern phenomenon.

---

MEET THE ROUNDTABLE

- MM is a civil servant in his late 30s.
- I don't know what RC does, but he's about the same age.
- JE is a music teacher in his mid-20s.
- DR is a producer in his 30s.
- CM is a CAD designer and drummer in his early 20s.
- LH is in her late teens and is a student.

RC: He really does have the worst face in history. Looks like somebody else is controlling it...and they've forgotten they are controlling it.

MM: [produces list of seven or eight films] To be honest, I think the above list would still be good films if he wasn't in them i.e. there's nothing particular about him that makes them good films and so someone else could've played his role.

RC: I'm sure Cage has a pair of creaking, ancient bellows powering his voice, he seems to go loud and then inaudible as some withered old hag pumps his next line out of him. I'd sooner watch my couch for and hour and a half.

DR: I don't mind him. He's a complex character as he can be brilliant but I think he's a bit like Michael Caine in the Seventies. When asked about Swarm, his killer-bee film, he admitted that it was shit but it also bought him a new house.

CM: I dont give a shit about how his acting rates overall. The films he is in are awesome and granted you know whats coming when you see his name and a few explosions underneath it... but that's not always a bad thing.

JE: National Treasure 2 has the single worst face ever pulled in a film. It's awful. It must last all of about 18 frames of film, but it was amazingly bad.

LH: I don't mind him.

JE: In all seriousness, I could talk for ten minutes to an audience about those 18 frames, seriously. Seriously. Seriously. It's that bad.

---

If Art In Macro aims to prove anything, it is that a media that represents only one argument is not only doing a disservice. Sure, this writer thinks that Nic Cage is a horrorshow, a film cancer, a curse on motion picture - 26 consecutive stinkers attesting to this. But look at the gross of said stinkers. This guy is bankable for whatever inconceivable reason. He outright deserves his place in the pantheon of highest paid actors because his name is big money, so enough of your socialist suggestions of subjective worth - all that matters is the bacon, and how much of it you bring home! Hard-working Joe and Suzie Lunchpail flop their dollars down for the Nic Cage flick, not the new Bruno Ganz one!

A begrudging New Year salute to you, Nicolas Cage. You are not the worst actor ever. Heck, the way you made The Wicker Man into a comedy was Kaufman-esque.

Say hello to somebody #1

We're back from a self-imposed hiatus. Work, computer breakdown - you know how it is. In February 2007, Mark Prindle returned my request for an email interview with lengthy, funny, insightful and personal responses. Who he, ask you? Me tell.

Just as sure as anyone can have a blog, any person can listen to records and write their opinions on them. Anyone can learn HTML. Anyone can post up reader reviews, comment, criticism, rants and other nonsense too. But over the course of 11 years, for free? That's something. Besides, he's written for real publications and appeared on the real television to talk it up too. Here he is on Fox in 2008.



On top of that, there's the style. Or as I should say, 'styles' - Prindle is as likely to embrace surreality, grossness, sentimentality, seriousness,the kind of gonzo arthouse journalism employed by the Bangs and Kents of this world - anything but an academic detachment. This man loves records, and wants them all to be good. Often, they are not, and usually that is when things get funny.

The records I've bought on this man's say-so - dozens. I thank him for showing me Scharpling and Wurster, Thinking Man's Union Local #282, Skip Spence, Sun City Girls, Creedence Clearwater Revival and Cows. Not that he doesn't review 'regular' rock and roll bands; far from it.



I was incredibly touched when I saw how much effort he'd put into this interview for it to be used on a fairly obscure blog. I feel it something of a duty to make it useful for two obscure blogs instead. His words in normal type, mine in are too, just indented.
----
So, for everyone out there in internet-land who isn't aware of you (the cretins!), could you just introduce yourself?

My name is Mark Donavon Prindle. I am 33 years old and live in Manhattan with my wife Brenda and 6-year-old son Henry The Dog. I have become a semi-micro-mini-web-celebrity on the alleged strength of my dumbass web site www.markprindle.com. This site, an 11-years-and-counting labor of OCD, features trillions of profane, off-topic record reviews and interviews with top punk musicians of yesteryear and tomorrowday. Many of my reviews are just awful, but some are hilarious and a few are even insightful (I'm told). The site averages about 4,000 individual visitors and 35,000 click-throughs per day.

I also post a "Wacky Weekly Wphoto" of hilariousness, which everybody enjoys and is enjoyed by all. Although I am completely honest in my writing and opinionating, almost everything I write is 'taking the piss' so I urge readers not to take any of it very seriously. I also used to be a Homemade Guitar God, and have several unreleased CD-Rs to my name. I haven't played in years though. Too old and rickety.

OK. I'm going to tell you a little story. Once upon a time, I went to a music review workshop with a very well-known British writer. I submitted a review for open discussion and he claimed there were 'too many exclamation marks'. This struck me that music journalism was a place not of creativity & critical objectivity, but a place often as boring as being a musician itself. So, what would he make of your reviews? And what do you think of them? And, err, reviewing in general?

Music reviewing is a bullshit job for bullshit people. The job of a music journalist or historian requires significant research and understanding of past trends and influential moments in the history of the art. But music reviewing is just saying what an album sounds like to you. Even though the "quality" of different pieces of music is subjective (fully dependent on the preferences of the individual listener), a music reviewer should still be able to describe a record in such a way that, even if he hates it, fans of that type of music might still be interested in hearing it. Your well-known British writer was just expressing his personal opinion when he claimed that your review had 'too many exclamation marks.' If he were your editor, it would be important that you listen to his opinion. Since he is not, he can eat the dick. I'm sure you could nitpick his style too.

You haven't really told me enough about the writer for me to answer the question of whether or not he would like my style. Perhaps he would enjoy my sense of humor, perhaps not. And why do you find 'being a musician' boring? I've had some of my most fun and creative life moments while playing the old guitar - both with friends and alone. It's a lot of fun! It's not music's fault that many musicians are dull. People in all fields of life seem dull if you have nothing in common with them.

What do I think of my reviews? Here is a post I left on a message board recently, in response to a couple of people who were trashing my writing style:

"My writing definitely isn't 'for everybody.' In fact, a lot of it isn't even 'for me' at this point. But I can't go back and rewrite the whole damned site."

As for throwing in too much personal stuff and humor, that's kinda my 'schtick' as it were. It's the only (questionable) advantage I have over other reviewers, and it's also the only way to keep myself interested in what I'm doing. I mean, I do try to explain how the albums actually sound (much more now than in the past), but the reason people seem to keep coming back to my site is because they like my writing style.

And those who don't come back -- well, they DON'T LIKE IT AT ALL!

The worst part about it is that, in 11 years of writing, there are some TERRIBLE pages on my site. Yes, there was definitely a period when I used gross language and imagery just for the shock value (when I do it now, I try to write actual JOKES with it, rather than just throwing it in to shock). Yes, there was a time when my reviews said hardly anything at all about the records (90% of the time now, they say a HELL of a lot -- it's just that you have to read through all the other bullshit to find it). And yes, there was definitely a period when I simply couldn't write worth a shit and had no notable identity. But if I spent the time it would take to re-write everything that I no longer like, I wouldn't write a new review for the next three years!

Having said that, I DO honestly think that some of my reviews are funny -- but only to ME PERSONALLY. Over time, I tend to forget what I've written, so sometimes while adding reader comments, I'll happen across an old passage that I find absolutely hilarious. Not in a "God, I'm funny!" way, but "God, that's funny! I wrote that!?" way. And if nobody else finds it amusing, that just means that I have an idiosyncratic sense of humor. Sure, why not in life?

One thing I really do want you to understand though is that I'm not arrogant. Sometimes people accuse me of that, and I don't know how to respond. Maybe my 'writing style' is just so far removed from my 'actual identity' that it comes across as confidence. I don't have a hell of a lot of confidence."

As for reviewing in general, I just want reviews that tell me what an album sounds like. Pretty much the only ones I read are All-Music Guide, because they're pretty good about leaving out the bullshit (i.e. the kind of time-wasting crap I write) and just telling it like it are.

So is it true that you purchase all the records you review? If so, if an artist begins to suck you are tied into buying them all?

Oh God no. Why would you think that? I try to get free mp3 or CD-R discs of everything I can these days, particularly since there are pages on my site for people I can't stand (ex. Tori Amos and PJ Harvey). I do still have far too many albums and CDs though (15,000 maybe?)

One thing I've noticed is that you seem incredibly passionate about certain artists, but that passion and genuine evangelicising is passed over by a pedantic section of your fanbase. Ever get pissed off at the people who write in? Have you ever wanted to publically castigate their words? Also, does it ever annoy you when you are considered a bad writer when a) you majored in English from a fairly prestigious college and b) it's quite obvious that you aren't?

I got annoyed at Pedro Andino for sending in too many all-caps comments that had nothing at all to do with the reviews or albums I was discussing. But I just stopped posting them, so that took care of that. Otherwise, I sometimes get a twitch of anger at people who go off on me when they clearly don't understand what I'm trying to do. But that's just a natural human reaction. Once I post the comment and delete it from my email box, I never think about it again (thank God!). The one good thing about angry notes is that I can forward them to my friends, who quite enjoy them.

The few times that people have complained to me that I'm a bad writer, it is usually in response to a particularly bad piece of writing that has been on my site for 7 or 8 years. So I generally respond, "Hey, you're right! That IS a terrible page!" Unfortunately, sometimes you have to read a few pages before finally getting to something worth reading. And even then, you might not like my writing style. It's a bit hyper-active and obscene.

Since the site has started, what changes to your life are directly attributable to it?

I have more confidence in my un-worthlessness now, thanks to the many wonderful people who have supported me with readership and positive feedback over the years. I also feel like I'm achieving self-actualization, by constantly creating reviews that people can enjoy for the writing itself -- regardless of what I'm reviewing. In my 20's, I came to the realization that I would never be a rock star because (a) I lack the leadership skills to lead a band, (b) I don't have the discipline necessary to go through all that touring bullshit, and (c) nobody likes my music. But this web site thing has somehow garnered me lots of 'fans,' which is neat!

I also have more friends and more CD-Rs/MP3 discs than if I'd never started the site. And much less free time.

One thing that is noteable about your reviews is that often they are a forum for you to talk about whatever is on your mind that day: be it an anecdote about being drunk in a Mexican restaurant with your wife, a travel diary or a tirade against Bush. Why do you think you do this? A fringe benefit of having total editorial control, or because you simply can?

I do this because my reviews are the only personal writing I do. If I want to remember something funny that has happened to me, this is where I put it. Also, I don't like the thought of my main creative endeavor being a parasite wholly dependent on somebody else's work, which is what critique of any sort generally is. As such, I like to put in lots of my own personality so people can't just say, "When nobody remembers who Gwar is, your writing will be forgotten and worthless." Well, it probably still will, but at least there are some funny lines in there. So FUCK OFF.

Not you, the interviewer.

Which bands & artistes are grabbing you right now?

Nobody in particular. I just buy and buy and buy and listen and listen and etc. But I hardly spend any time with new CDs until it's time to review them, so sometimes I think I really like a band, then I'll study them more closely for review and realize they're terrible. This happened with GBH and, to a lesser extent, Gwar.

One CD I recently got that excited me quite a bit was "These Are Jokes" by comedian Demetri Martin. He's hilarious! I also finally completed my Bill Hicks collection. I've grown to really enjoy him. Even when he's not tossing out zingers left and right, he's just a lot of fun to listen to. But I think you're talking about music. So let me think about some music people I've been listening to lately.

I now own every single Johnny Cash studio album except "The Rambler," and like a surprising number of them. I recently listened to about half of my Grand Funk albums (I own all of them) and was pleased to learn that they're not all terrible. I really like Wishbone Ash's "Argus" album. I'm still a huge fan of 'outsider' artists and weird music, like Tangela Tricolli's "Jet Lady," Kenneth Higney's "Attic Demonstration," Shooby Taylor The Human Horn, Rodd Keith and all the other song-poem artists, corporate musicals, Arf!Arf!'s "Only In America" compilations, Recordio discs, and just novelty music in general. I'm also really into (for no clear reason) poorly-conceived tribute discs, like all these asinine bluegrass and string quartet tributes to Aerosmith, AC/DC and nonsense like that. I own ten of the "Rockabye Baby!" lullaby CDs and will definitely pick up a few more in my day. I own probably 40 Ramones tribute albums, including steel pan, new wave, blues-rock, karaoke, lullaby, surf, muzak and rockabilly interpretations of their work.

And I'm said that it's been so long since Yes put out a studio album. I still love Yes.

Away from the computer, on which you are a SUPERSTAR, what do you like to do in 'real life'?

Watch horror, exploitation and sexploitation movies. Why, just last night I 'enjoyed' a mid-70s German sexploitation film called "The Sinful Bed." See, it's about this talking bed, see, that tells you about all the different sorts of people that have had sex on it over the years. And - get this - the film actually SHOWS the softcore sex in flashback form! Wow!

I read a lot of non-fiction -- mostly about movies and occasionally music, if it's something interesting. I read some humor too. Good old humor, making people laugh.

I love eating at Uno's Bar & Grill (formerly Pizzeria Uno), and do so several times a week. I always start off with a bowl of peanuts from the bar, and glasses of water and Diet Pepsi. Then I order a flatbread Chef's Choice pizza with hamburger, pepperoni and sliced tomatoes, along with a ton of napkins so I can wipe all the grease off the food and blow my nose a billion times as is my wont. For dessert, I get a Deep Dish Sundae with extra ice cream, and ask them to make sure that the cookie is soft. I can't stand it when the cookie is hard. I feel the same way about penises.

For exercise, I take Tae Kwon Do classes with my wife three days a week. We've been taking them for four years, and are scheduled to go for our Black Belts in May of this year. Wish us duck!

Finally, I enjoy spending quality time with my wife and dog. What kind of asshole wouldn't?

I hate everything else.

INTERDIT

We are currently not posting for perhaps a week because our keyboard is completely fucked. Thank society for the warranty.

Popology #2

Art In Macro gathers up some folk to take a look at the new Kings of Leon record.

'JOSHUA TREE DENIAL'
critical roundtable gears up

We know the drill by now. The template was put down by The Strokes and until we enter a new paradigm shall forever be so.

A young band of dubious provenance arrives on 'the scene'. Talk of their sound; simultaneously retrograde and yet the sound of the absolute now. 'Classic'. We are assured of their 'realness' despite the abstract/absurd nature of this concept.

The debut record (possibly after some impossibly hip limited EP or 7" is 'dropped') is released to vast critical aplomb - heck, even Robert Christgau likes it! It makes the top 100 albums ever despite having only been released four months prior in a traditionally lean spot in the year. A successful tour of the world's dumps and festivals and relax.

The second album dichotomy; more of the same or something different. History shows to err on the side of caution for sales and go for broke to be remembered fondly. It sells well and gets good reviews (critics don't like to think they were fooled, ever) but ultimately there's nothing to trumpet, especially when we have new feed coming in at the beginning of this cycle. Perhaps start to think about solo projects or a clothing line.

The third album tanks but you're still a live draw. Now you have the unenviable task of touring knowing you're pretty much creatively spent as a unit, playing these same chords every night despite the 'stripped-down' and 'mature' record you have inside. Even the groupies look kind of spent and redundant. Often, there is no fourth record, and if there is then it sells so poorly as to be the almost physical manifestation of one hand clapping.



This template works for so many bands; Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The Music, The Stills, Interpol and Franz Ferdinand to name a few. Enduring the process over the next year or so will be CSS, Glasvegas and Klaxons. So why have Kings of Leon, forged through the same processes, endured to see a zenith of popularity in the run up to album #4?

Art In Macro have a suspicion that Kings of Leon endured because people simply forgot to listen to them first time around, so their third album was essentially their first to many.



This writer was at a karaoke party and the above song ('The Bucket') came on at random for me to sing: it was pleasant enough without developing (at all) and easy enough to perform despite never having heard a note before. Like good pop songs, it had an enduring and non-annoying quality to it. I mentioned this to a couple of 'music fan' friends. "Oh, they're pretty good, they've changed a lot. It's not just 'Molly's Chambers' going ba-ba-na-na-na-na-na all the time. You should have a listen."

And listen Art In Macro did. And the experience was neither pleasant enough to purchase anything, not terrible enough to incite rage. Kings of Leon had done it! They had run the gauntlet and were now primed to make 'a statement'.

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MEET THE ROUNDTABLE
- ML is a singer in a rock and roll band and by day, he writes copy for his employers in the construction sector. He is 27.
- KD is a journalist on the local newspaper in her mid-20s.
- DG is a student and musician. He is 20.

ML: I found their stripped down hick rock they had on their earlier stuff really fucking patronising. That opening track, I think it was ‘Knocked Up’ - if you forgive the hamfisted lyrics, really shocked me. It’s like they’d found another couple of emotions. Or had stopped wearing sandals if you get my drift.

DG: The epic atmospheres that made Because Of The Times great have gone too far. The songs sound wet.

KD: I got a bit bored after about four songs to be honest, but then I do have musical ADHD.

ML: Where the delayed guitars on the last one sounded like a band branching out, they sound really fucking cynical on this. Take the single as a shining example. It’s like they wandered into a big room on their last album, metaphorically and literally, and have stayed there - wide eyed and complacent. Like The Joshua Tree never fucking happened. Joshua Tree denial.

DG: Caleb's voice tends to slide into power ballad mode from time to time, and each time he does this - while it fits with the song - it just contributes to the vast empty spaces, instead of filling them up. It's a shame sometimes because you can't help but feel his indie cred slowly draining out of him and ergo his band, into the realms of, well dare I mention other once rock and roll pioneers turned purveyors of radio friendly stadium capacity rock?

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Art In Macro first heard the record whilst out purchasing DVDs in the local HMV, playing as it was at full volume over the speakers and delaying the thought process of purchasing, creating an internal digression of whether to stay or flee. On the bus home, I sent a message to a friend.

Just heard the new Kings of Leon record. It was like some bizarre medieval torture crossed with a terrible U2 record.

For the record, Metacritic have them as nearly a 7 out of 10. Other noteable reviews from Allmusic who give it 7, Observer Music Monthly give it full marks and finally Pitchfork, who give it a mid-three.

Please make up your own minds though. Perhaps let us know what you think.