Live Music Is Dead. Try mime.

Greetings fellow blogophiles and welcome to my first blog of the One-ders (Stupid name for a decade...should have just called it Gary). Seeing as we have reached such a historic time of the earth’s cycle, I feel I must write about a topic that matches the importance of the age we live in....How could Russel not win Survivor?!!...I mean he played the game hard, found immunity idols...and all those other grade A sucka’s comfortably rode on in on his coat tails. I call shenanigans on that!! That dude was bad-ass! Sheesh!!....In fact I think that this topic is far too important for my humble little blog space so I’ll just move onto something infinitely less significant. The closure of live music venues. Now as we all know, our favourite Collingwood drinkery, The Tote, was recently closed due to insane liquour licensing laws that I don’t pretend to understand. I can’t say that I was a regular visitor to the Tote, but on the occasions that I did go there, I had an incident free, drunken orgy, fun filled night with balloon animals, colouring books and colonic irrigation (Translation: I liked going there). And so did many others it would seem, as countless Facebook protests were made so that...well ...the people who agree with the protest could see that others agree with the protest (Seriously....what’s the point of protesting on a network that’s designed to keep out intruders...grrr). But still, mice were clicked in their thousands and revolution was in the air... right?....Was it bollocks! As someone who has tread the proverbial boards of many a venue (Inc. The Tote) and at times played to...shall we say... meager audiences, I am completely aware of which people in my social loop were live music go-ers and which were going along with the proverbial facebook flow (Use of proverbial so far: 2) It caused me great annoyance to see people joining groups like Save Melbourne Music, when we all know that a on Saturday night they would much rather be singing Summer Of 69 at the top of their voice at some god awful place that dribbles a thimble of house bourbon into a pissy little plastic cup. But I don’t have a problem with that. You wanna get fucked up and listen to a D.J playing Blister in The Sun for the nine millionth time then go nuts. Just don’t pretend you are some live music loving bohemian that is disgusted with the destruction of our art maaaan. But the problem still isn’t that. The problem is Melbourne.

Now Melbourne...You know I love you. In fact, the other week I went on a boat down the Yarra for the first time and had an all round lovely day. I love everything about you including your wonderful hockey team (www.melbourneice.com). But boy howdy! Do we like to pat ourselves on the back as the kings of live music. We love the idea that we are pure art on a stick so much that we wouldn’t ever dare admit that maybe....just maybe...a shit load of our bands suck. But surely none of our bands could possible suck...we’re Melbourne! We're a live music city so it's gotsta be all good right? Not to harp on too much about Facebook groups, but I saw people joining groups such as “From now on I’m doing all my drinking at live music venues”. I mean seriously, what the hell is that?! Like it’s a chore to go drinking at a live music venue? It shouldn’t be something you go out of your way to do. It should be fun....fucking entertainment!! Not something that is so hard to do it warrants some sort of life changing public proclamation. Now here’s the reason why people don’t go to see bands on an extremely regular basis....alot of bands are boring (Yeah...I went there. Insert sassy finger click here). Because of this, give all live music a go, Melbourne attitude we have, what we have actually done is created an environment where it is o.k for shit bands to get up and do nothing original or entertaining for 30 minutes. This may have been fair play in a different time but now.... the world has changed. I can feel it in the air. I can smell it in the water. Venues can no longer afford to keep our shit bands going, so it’s either do it well or get the fuck off the stage. To the three musicians that might actually read this; If you look at your band and honestly say to yourself that you are not doing anything new or entertaining then get better or give it up. Because it ain’t just about getting up and having fun anymore. Unfortunately. Venues can’t afford it. It’s shit, but that’s the way it is. I say this as a musician who realises that on occasion, I have been way more than average up there on the proverbial boards (Meaning I have been shit). But now, alas, I realise that I must step up to the proverbial plate so to speak.

Places like Sydneys, The Sandringham Hotel, have instituted a pay to play policy. Meaning that if you can’t bring 60 patrons along then you’ll have to pay them 200 wing wangs. Now this sucks…but who am I to complain? I don’t have to run a venue. I just gotta show up, play a few songs, make a dick of myself for 40 minutes, get drunk and go home. I don’t even want to imagine the kind of financial pressure the guys that are letting us make noise in their venues are going through. And if I can’t get 60 people down there then really, I shouldn’t be doing it at all.

So there you have it. This is the kind of financially aware decade we are living in. It sucks, but that’s just the way it is. What once could be viewed as a bit of fun, now has to be seen as providing some sort of service. And as sickening as that sounds , it’s something to think about. How will bands cut their teeth live in the One-ders (Gary), I wonder? More studio time? House parties? Street parties? Pool parties? Lego Parties? I dunno. I’m not a scientist (Tell me if you get that reference anyone), but just a thought to the three people in bands that may read this. Tis a desperate age we live in. No more just getting up on stage for the fuck of it because you are damaging the whole live music deal. Something my own band very much has in mind….but we’ll probably still suck….at least we’re thinking about it….but only proverbially.

Anyway….Fuck Paul McDermott.

Cheers,

Marvel