Showing posts with label Kings of Leon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kings of Leon. Show all posts

Thursday, 26 January 2012

So, who sold out? You or them…?

Before I begin my slight rant, I should mention that I’ve used ‘BAG’ as an abbreviation for ‘Band, Artist, or Group’, seeing as I make the reference a few times within the following text.

Right-o, here we go…

One of the most irritating things a person can say to me regarding a BAG is this (or something along these lines): ‘I don’t like ‘em anymore ‘cos they sold out’.

Though I didn’t think twice about judging people a few years back, I’ve grown and I now refrain from doing so for the most part; but where statements comparable the above are concerned, I digress. If you’re going to say something like that to me, then I’m going to assume you’re a bit of a dickhead, and I’ll make an excuse to go to the loo so I can escape you.

My mental response (‘mental’ not because I’m afraid of a good debate, but because I find it’s far less painful to think it rather than say it and wind up butting my head against a wall) is usually as follows:

‘Is that right? Okay then, define ‘sold out’, Mr/Ms Self-righteous. Is that ‘sold out’ as in ‘sold out a gig at the O2 Arena because they’re awesome’, or ‘sold out’ as in ‘they’re no longer the quirky unknown BAG you were the first to talk about within your social circle, so you tossed their CD’s, deleted their MP3’s, shredded that t-shirt you paid top dollar for at their concert, continuously run them down to anyone who’ll listen (but only if it’s not someone you raved about said BAG to in the first place), then found yet another quirky ‘unheard of’ BAG to take their place?’

Of course, ninety per cent of the time it’s the latter, but the optimist in me can’t help but hope it’s the former.

In any case, their reasoning – if you can even call it that – is usually a mutated version of their original gripe anyway. ‘I just, like, can’t stand the fact that they went mainstream, man.’

Okay, so riddle me this… how does one ‘go’ mainstream? Is there a rickety sign at a crossroad somewhere in Musicland, whereby BAGs might find themselves facing two (or possibly more, but we’ll stick with two for now) set-in-stone paths?

Path 1 – Record an album and have your legal team draw up documents that restrict its airplay completely, because there’s a possibility you might achieve international acclaim, money, and a bevy of new fans, thus putting a few supercilious noses out of joint because you’re no longer an obscure little act they ‘discovered’.

Or

Path 2 – Never record another album in case the above issues arise, thus ensuring you stay an obscure little act and keep those few, and dare I say it ‘insignificant’ assholes happy.

Alright, so they're pretty much the same thing, but the important factor here is that we've deduced ‘mainstream’ is a dirty word, right? Pffft!

What I find funny (the following being from multiple personal experiences) is that it’s not unusual for these whiny twats to screw up their faces, uttering the M-word like every letter has the potential to spear their tongues as they roll out their mouths; then head out to a pub to watch a cover band, or to a club where they’ll shake their arses all night to *cough* mainstream *cough* pop/dance.

Clearly hypocrisy is a right tasty dish for some.

See, as far as I’m concerned, if you like a BAG, then you like ‘em, and that’s that. You might tire of hearing certain songs if they get a lot of airplay, that’s normal and no different to going off chocolate for a while after over-indulging at Easter; but to actively trash a BAG you supposedly love, purely on the basis that they’ve made it big, is beyond me.

I once voiced my opinion (a shortened account of my ‘mental’ thingy above) on this particular subject, and the receiver got quite defensive, telling me they’d *sob* had to endure hearing a KOL song (a band they apparently loved for years beforehand), over and over on the radio, all day every day at work.

My initial thought? ‘You should think yourself lucky it was Sex on Fire and not Agadoo, mate!’

Veering off to the left a little, I personally believe that we, the public, the all-important consumers, want too much from the BAGS of the world. For example, many people anticipate the arrival of a favourite BAGS new album like they would the birth of their first child, then when they get the album, a lot of the time they complain the new music doesn’t sound like their older stuff.   

They might then accuse the BAG in question of slacking off in their efforts or trying to emulate another BAG, but what these haters fail to ascertain is that these musos are not going to spend loads of time away from their homes, families, and friends, in order to travel constantly for promotion and gigs, or record all day and all night, etc, just to churn out a piece of shit they wouldn’t want to put their dog’s name on.

As with any form of art, music progresses as people’s influences, lives, and habits change. I believe they call it evolution, and I also believe it should be embraced.

Don’t agree with that? Then perhaps you should ask yourself if you’d be prepared to eat baked beans on toast for every single meal, and wear the exact same outfit every single day for the rest of your life. If you answered ‘yes’ to that, then you might want to reassess a few things, but anyway… my point is that if you attest to loving a BAG, then you should treat them with the respect they deserve; the respect you initially held for them. If you’re not overly keen on something they put out, don’t put them down and don’t abandon them, but celebrate what it was that drew you to them in the first place.   

Monday, 14 November 2011

Kings of Leon + Band of Horses live = one HAPPY me! :D

I know my blog is still under construction, but I thought I may as well start casting my thoughts into the e-stratosphere, so here goes...

This Sunday just gone was a hell of a whirlwind thing, but it was bloody fantastic. With a mere two hours of sleep under my belt, I flew to Melbourne with my lil' sis to do two things: the first being to meet our older sister - who was adopted out as a bub - and her lovely hubby for the first time.

That in itself was a wonderful experience, and one that paved the way for the evening's festivities - the long-awaited Kings of Leon gig at Rod Laver arena.

Anyone that knows me well can tell you that I love, love, LOVE KOL; not fanatically, but enough that I own all their albums - on CD, that is - and enough that I've given them a mention in my nearly-completed novel Enharmonic (formerly 'Sticks and Stones').

The Followill boys rocked the shit out of us, and though I'd expected it to be good, it completely threw me just HOW good they are live. I can't praise them enough for the performance they delivered, just as their support act Band of Horses (whom I also adore and who also contribute three albums to my CD anthology) kicked some serious musical arse.

Back to KOL for a moment... Caleb's voice was so clear, and he hit pretty much every note hammer to nail-head; and Matty (my fave King, so much so that I got excited when I saw the roadie - who I'm pretty certain was the infamous 'Nacho' - bring his guitar out) ripped it up, as did Jared and the non-glasses-wearing Nathan.

I recommend everyone make the time to see these guys at least once, because you'll be leaving with a repetitive 'that was just... wow' escaping your lips. Oh, and a change of knickers/jocks/boxers would be a worthwhile thing to have handy.

The next time they tour, I think I might jump on the, ahem, bandwagon and take in a few shows, but for now, I'm content to wait for Band of Horses to come back so I can see them do a full set.

That being said, the concert was brilliant but the night didn't end there...

Strapped for cash and completely unorganised, my sis and I headed back to Melbourne airport around midnight to await her flight at six am, and mine at nine am; the pair of us sleeping in a freakin' awkward position draped over her suitcase.

The sandman wasn't exactly kind though, and I found myself sitting up at two am, bleary eyed, worried that those who’d passed by had heard me farting in my sleep, and chowing down on Macca's fries. It was worth it though, he he. I'd have slept naked, hanging upside down from a tree at RLA if the need had arisen!

Mind you, waking at that time had been a bit of a blessing in disguise though, because there were a bunch of young teens there, heading off on an overseas jaunt, and I witnessed a Harry Potter moment that I define as the golden snitch atop one kick-arse pre-birthday cake (the 15th being the day I was birthed).

One young fella had a luggage trolley, complete with his suitcase and one of his mates perched on it, and he sounded off a perfectly executed 'Platform nine and three quarters', before turning and aiming the trolley at a two metre wide pillar.

Yes, he ran straight for it.

Thank you 'Harry', thank you big sis and hubby, thank you lil’ sis, thank you Band of Horses, and most of all, thank you Kings of Leon for making it a night I'll always cherish.

Until next time, that is all.

Kylie xxx