Nazis. Sex. Tabloids. It can’t get any more British, can it?

We’ve bought many megabytes’ worth of new plug-ins. All sorts of goodies to make music sound more like it used to back in the day when men wore makeup and recorded their instruments on analogue without the aid of Protools assisted fakery.

James Blunt was seen at our cafe the other day. It must be hard to walk in a room knowing everyone’s sniggering. Mind you, the worst has got to be over by now. It’s a bit “James who…?” by now, surely. Some time ago the legendary Tina Turner visited our complex. We were working with a young band next door. Everyone was buzzing about Ms Turner’s presence. The young ones didn’t know who she was. Class.

What do they learn at school these days?

This is a tour worth dropping in on: Lostaura hit the ground running at these locations:

Their debut album, produced by us, is out now.

Another tour worth an entry in your diary is the co-headline extravaganza by the ‘Farm alumni Tall Trees and The Sunshine Getaway hitting the following cities in October:

The label the bands are on, Intruder Records, have a cool line of t-shirts you should look at. Buy one. It helps keep the bands on the road.

I’ve rediscovered grunge music, especially the songs of Stone Temple Pilots. Been listening to a lot of that stuff. I remember a Time Out review of their second album: very terrible heavy metal. Back in the early nineties, of course, the press here were steadfast in their opposition to grunge, if it wasn’t made by Nirvana.

What a cool name for a genre: grunge. Does exactly what it says on the tin. What have we got now? Math rock, as purveyed by The Foals. Math? Rock? Isn’t math something you hated at school? What the hell does it have to do with rock?

No wonder records ain’t selling. We’ve got shit names for our genres!

I leave you with some very important news: my squash team, the mighty Blackheath Squash Club, are very close to getting promoted to the dizzying heights of the 2nd Division. It’s pretty cool: all my life I’ve been a rock’n'roller and now I’m almost like a proper athlete. How did that happen?

It’s rewarding to see one’s work recognized by others in the business.

Travels With Charlie…

We took a long summer holiday this year. I took my clan to Finland, the best country in the world to live in, according to Newsweek.

I spent a bit of time in a log cabin in Central Finland. My daily routine, in preparation for the squash season ahead, was running down dirt tracks, chopping wood, clearing fields of felled trees, canoeing… almost like…

Of course, the scenery at this time of year is very different, a lot less snowy. In fact, I believe there was a drop of rain one morning. The rest was glorious sunshine in 30+ C.

Eventually the training had to end and I went to Helsinki, gagging to do something musical.On the way to a writing session in my friend’s studio, I saw a queue of people a hundred metres long. It was the queue to a soup kitchen. A soup kitchen in the capital of the best country to live in? I didn’t stop to ask whether or not these particular residents of the best country in the world to live in felt they were indeed the unknowing winners of the lottery. To me it looked a sad, horrible sight. Not one befitting a rich country like the one I was fortunate enough to be born in.

I can understand if these things happen in the USA, but in civilized Europe?

Across town that day, U2 were performing at the Helsinki Olympic Stadium, where Bono met the prime minister and played his hits. Some of my friends went to the show. Most of them work for big global corporations and businesses. They got their tickets from their employers. How rock’n'roll is that?

Big shows are corporate entertainment, no matter what the main guy talks about on stage…

Still, I’m no U2 hater. I think they are ace. The set list in Helsinki was impressive. My favourite U2 song is

And What Do You Do…?

I also attended a class reunion. Not mine, but of people who graduated from high school around the same time as me. A year before, to be precise. So, I didn’t have a real emotional connection, but the faces were familiar enough. Good yarns.

Apart from one girl… ahem, woman… who worked for a real grassroots NGO, I was the only one there who didn’t have a proper job in an ordinary business. An interesting topic came up. It was about how technology affects people today in a way it didn’t use to affect people when we were growing up.

I launched into the topic that exercises the minds of people working in the bubble of music: the reason why so much of it sucks these days. I spoke eloquently about how creativity suffers when creators of art feel compelled to tweet, blog and vlog incessantly. I explained how bad musicianship remains unchallenged when every mistake can, and usually will, be corrected by a computer program. I made known my frustration with the way the media has to compartmentalize music if it is to feature it, because everyone is petrified and preoccupied by data analysis, by audience testing. How, when the past is readily accessible, there is a severe lack of forward movement. When everyone lives in the moment, the long term feels just too complicated. It’s about access, fame and quick fixes.

Judging by the blank looks around me, I was speaking in a foreign language.

Switching to Finnish didn’t help.

I walked away with the feeling that people outside the business we work in don’t really get the amount of sacrifice and commitment needed to do something special, hell, ANYTHING, in music. They really don’t care about why your band doesn’t make the playlist. either. They think that the stuff that’s played on the radio is pretty alright and entertaining. ANYTHING that takes the mind off daily drudgery on the way to work is surely a good thing.

Someone put across that they felt that practicing like a monkey for 10 000 hours just to get good at playing was unhealthy. This person, who had become the head teacher of a big school in the years since I last saw him, compared the struggle to become a great musician to being a workaholic father who’s never at home with his wife and kids. In his opinion, we’re all far better off just chilling and enjoying life.

Possibly true. But if making meaningful cool art is what you’re into, hanging with your mates isn’t going to deliver.

For us to take on the meaningless and mundane (like your favourite x-factor winner’s new single that’s on every playlist everywhere) we have to work our nuts off and still most people will just go: yeah… sounds alright… pass the parmesan, please.

C’mon People!

I sure understand the level of commitment required. I’m familiar with the associated obstacles. For real artists, who are in it for the music, no price is too high. Time, money, relationships, risk and hardship – you don’t even think about them. Whatever it takes.

Meanwhile Back In The Jungle

I played squash with a mate who works a good job at one of the majors. He was gutted because he felt that his company was being run down by fuckwits. New management from outside the music business came in recently and introduced new procedures, according to my friend, based on those learnt in the ready made pizza business.

Sound familiar? Music companies run by ex biscuit sales men and ex kitchen appliances sales men… I’m not an apologist for major labels, nor am I an apologist for indie labels, wherever they are. All I’m saying is that we are in the arts. It’s about emotional connections. It’s about stories. Things that matter more than daily sales reports. Things that develop slowly.

A story has a life span. You may not connect with it right away. For instance, there was this Finnish poet called Tommy Tabermann, who back in my youth was considered a bit of a joke by me and my friends. I didn’t get his work at all. Poetry was not high on my list. By chance, I read some of his work on my summer holiday. It was great. Inspired, I bought a collection of his work, and I want to share this piece with you, one I read on a bus ride I had taken a thousand times before, back in the day when a career in music was just a pipe dream.

The Inspiring End Bit

Tommy writes and I translate to the best of my ability: “When you hear them call you, scream at you, taunt and ridicule you for being childish, naïve, an idealist, stupid, weak, a fag – everything that scares those who have lost all hope, let out a sigh of relief: you haven’t got lost on the road that everyone should travel.”

Rock. Let’s make some music.

V.

Well done!

I’ll be back with a full holiday report later… good to be back to good news!

V.

Cue in TuneCore’s MD Jeff Price who says he’s really sorry for allowing people to buy music that’s not been approved of by Mr Silverman. The cat fight continues.

Interestingly, some dude commented on the TuneCore guy’s article, applauding TuneCore’s stance, saying that he’s an artist, can’t play any instrument, been doing music for a year and is getting ready to release his debut album. He was so impressed by what Mr TuneCore had to say that he will put his debut out on TuneCore.

Can’t play any instrument. Been making music for a year.

I bet that album is gonna be great…

The sales figures of a lot of new music are astounding. There are records made and released that don’t even sell the obligatory copy that Mum usually buys.  It’s clear that sales are not an indication of artistic value, but gimme a break! Records that sell less than one copy?

At the other end of the spectrum, a few years ago I met top record producer Nile Rodgers, whose career spans a few decades as a founding member of disco legends Chic, producer of huge records for Madonna, David Bowie, Duran Duran and others. He was frustrated with the low level of creative ambition and ability of the artists he’s being asked to produce. He says, thinking back to the days when he got a record deal with Chic that they KNEW they were hot. They were the hottest cats in town. They had it in them and boy could they blow it out. Nowadays when he gets a demo from a band his reaction most always is an incredulous “YOU got a record deal…?”

A mate of mine managed an artist signed to a big label. They made an album. The recording budget was a cool £125k. They recorded it in the finest studios with the finest producers. Went to Nashville to record the strings, because, well… you just can’t get the right string sound in London, can you? By the time the bill came, the recording budget had doubled to £250k.

I heard the album. It wasn’t great. Unperturbed, the label went on to spend big bucks on videos and marketing – the whole hog. The first single sold all of 96 copies. The artist was dropped.

Whether you’re doing it DIY style or you’re signed to a label is rather irrelevant to the Big Question. Our weekly Monday morning coffee conversation centred around the fascinating topic of “why does modern music suck so much?” Where is the talent, the creative drive and ambition? Even the mainstream media wonders.

One reason is this: we creators of music (call us artists) think that our music has a divine right to be popular. That belief is in-built. Consequently, when we write a song we are in a terrible hurry to tell the world about it. We don’t really finish writing it, we demo it poorly… and rush off to tweat, blog and pester people to buy buy buy, vote vote vote… whatever ad nauseam. Most of our time is spent on everything that’s irrelevant to the creation of something amazing.

I spend a lot of time discussing these things with emerging new artists. Sometimes what you say turns you into a pariah, because you’re not saying what the recipient wants to hear. So it goes. The other day I got an email from someone I met a long time ago. It was titled Thanks For The Blog, in the subject field.

Hi Ville,

Just wanted to say how much I enjoy reading your blog about the industry. You may recall we met when my (now defunct) band [xxxxxxx] sent you a demo and we had a brief meeting. I always remember your assessment of us at the time, how correct you were yet how unable we were to take it in. I think a lot of people, including myself, could do with heeding the advice in your blog at various times but probably at times when the mind isn’t opening to listening!  That said, now, whenever people ask me what happened to my band I always truthfully say “we weren’t good enough and didn’t write enough good songs”.  It sure beats deluding yourself saying “we didn’t get the right break / radio support / tour support, the industry is evil etc, etc”

Many thanks for the “Kill your Friends” book recommendation too. One of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time and probably not too far from the truth!

Anyway, best of luck with everything and keep up the good work with the blog.

Cheers,

xxxx

xxxxxxxxxxx

This message blew me away. It took a lot of balls to write it, I think. I wore a hat today just so I’d be able to take it off to the person who sent the email.

Reminds me of a conversation I had recently with the head of one of the Universal labels. He remembered me from the band I was with back in the day. He considered signing us over several meetings with our manager. In the end, he passed. Cut forward a decade or so and he talked about it and tried to explain his reasons. It was very nice of him, but maybe, just maybe, our band wasn’t good enough. In any case, we found our relative fortune elsewhere. And here we are, many seasons later, still making music for a living.

I wish I could be as honest as my friend… !

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There was another fellow who came in bullshitting this and that, talking about his legacy and his passion, about the huge amounts of cash they would all make because of his artistry. It was all just hot air. He got ripped apart. Trouble was he didn’t look like he even got it. He just looked like he thought the other guys were idiots for not buying into him. A bit like all the crazies on X-Factor whose friends and family mob Simon when they get told they can’t sing.

We just produced a single for a punk/pop band called A Fate Untold. We worked for them earlier in the year and it was very impressive to see how much progress they’d made in the months in between. Everything about the band was better. That’s so rare to see. Shame for most others. Great for A Fate Untold.

I’m a sucker for a good work ethic. I’m a sucker for a can-do mentality.

I shouldn’t really care about bands who don’t possess those qualities. It’s not as if I owe them anything. But I can’t help feeling frustrated when from time to time we come across artists whose attitude is just so wrong. Everyone else is shit and they’re great. They’re always the best band on the bill. Let’s take that as an example. If they really were always the best band on the bill, would it be reasonable to suggest that promoters and fans would have picked up on the fact by now? If they really were that great, it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Fact.

Another favourite gripe we hear is “all we need is backing and exposure”. If money and contacts were the answer, every single major label signing would be a roaring success. The majors have lots of money and they have very good contacts. Most of their projects are unsuccessful. Put that in your book.

We’re all competing for people’s pocket money and spare time. Most people have little of either. What we do has to be pretty amazing to get a person to switch from what they know to be good, what they have had many an enjoyable experience with, to what we have to offer.

Some bands are keen to have someone “believe in them”. How can anyone unconnected all of a sudden believe? Where does that kind of blind faith come from? Isn’t it positively INSANE to believe in something/someone you know nothing about? Maybe, instead, belief is something that grows over time as you work together towards common goals. Both sides have to show keenness and staying power. Commitment.

One way of showing commitment and enthusiasm is to do what the single mum in Dragon’s Den did: work three jobs so you have the dosh to do something about your dream. Then work that idea to a level where others emotionally unattached to the idea see sense in getting involved.

Two bands with a family connection bringing out sweet music produced by us.

Twelve Titans and Judy Mooch

In any case, check out some good new music. Click on the photos to explore further.

Around the same time the drummer in our band was complaining to our agent that he didn’t have any money because we didn’t have enough gigs. Agent told him to get a job. Top dollar advice.

When we first arrived in England we met, through a series of happy accidents, a producer called Pete Bellotte. Pete invented disco music and wrote the big Donna Summer hits, among others. His house was on a private estate in Surrey. At the end of a long and wide tree lined driveway stood this mansion the likes of which I had never seen. Tennis court. Apple orchard. Side building housing his own 24 track studio. These were pre Protools days, after all. Five cars: the sports car, the family Volvo, the kids’ cars and the silver Bentley onto which Pete was leaning while he gave this piece of good advice: always keep writing. When times are good, write songs. When times are bad, write songs.

I look around, thinking this guy knows what he’s on about.

On tour… doing the after show settlement in a 500 capacity venue that was sold out. Lots of money in small denominations piled on the table. Promoter produces this calculations on a piece of paper. This much for advertizing, this much for security and so on… here’s my cut and here’s yours. Promoter is a really good guy. You can feel he’s wanting to do the right thing. Tour manager asks if he can count the cash, just to make sure. Everyone in the room winces. It’s late and we want to leave. Unperturbed, this ex-Marine starts counting. Gets to the end and asks if he can count it again. Promoter shuffles his feet, looking around. Sure, go ahead. A little nervous. Tour manager counts again and winces at the end. Promoter asks if there’s anything wrong. Tour manager says “you’re a hunnerdandfifty shy”. Promote turns red with embarrassment and reaches into his pocket saying oh no sorry… my mistake here you go… At which point tour manager takes a hunnerdandfifty from his share and hands it over to the promoter saying “no, buddy, you’ve given us too much. Goodnight!”

On tour…. bassist from one of the local bands asks us for a tuner before going on. He gets one. Then he breaks a string. We replace it. They’re about to go on and he realizes he hasn’t got a strap. We lend him our spare strap. They go on stage. The band starts and suddenly stops. Bassist rushes back in a blind panic to ask us for a pick.

From then on whenever anyone asked us for a random piece of kit that should have been packed in every gig bag everywhere, we said that yeah you can have it but, hey, we’ve been on the road for a while and, you know, missing the other half… any chance I could fuck your girlfriend tonight?

First ever UK tour hits Glasgow King Tut’s. It’s pretty packed. After the second song the crowd lets out a decent cheer to welcome us. I thank and greet them saying that it’s great to be here on our first tour of England. The place falls deadly quiet. From the back somewhere a lone voice says “you’s in Scotland now”. In a nanosecond I let out a belly laugh saying that I’m just kidding… not sure if they bought it… we plough through the rest of the set admirably.

I swore I would never make that mistake again.

Cut ahead to another tour. We’re touring with Alkaline Trio. Glasgow Queen Something University. The Trio have American style plugs everywhere. I ask the local guy if he’s got any adapters… any English style plugs. He deadpans me. Says he’s got no English plugs. Before I get where this is going he continues “but I’ve got some Scottish ones”.

Scotland 2 – Finland 0.

Please visit the band at Esteban Music and catch them on tour here: