June 6th – For all their protestations of how it’s just about
the art and not the money (yeah, OK, tell you what, give all your recorded work
away and busk; how’s that for you?) and of how they’re so committed to a better
planet, to a fairer life for all, for a greater distribution of wealth and
opportunity, rock and pop stars are, in essence, fuller of shit than a small
intestine. Take an ordinary, modest tour for a
band; let’s break it down just a little and see what it takes to put four egos
on stage:
Let’s say, three 45-footers, three
drivers, a catering unit, chef/cook plus one other, manager, production
manager, stage manager, l/x, FoH sound, stage monitor and f/x engineers, guitar
tech (3 of) drum tech, back-line tech/s, individual band security, tour
manager, some form of secretarial cover, tour fit-up crew, local fit-up crew,
follow-spot operator/s, tour bus driver/s… This is just what would be classed
as essential tour staffing; there’s a whole host of office-based staff who
never leave the environs of the desk-bound.
All this just to get some
over-egged-ego in front of the punters; just think of the carbon footprint they
leave behind FFS! And throughout this homage to excess the band will only be
called on for one-hour-twenty of effort each night where they stand in the
limelight singing songs of yearning and loss, of sadness and pain, of suffering
and cruelty. Not theirs of course; they’re cosseted and comforted from a-hole
to breakfast time as the machine grinds on in order to maximise their output
and profitability before they’re thrown over for the next best thing. That’s
the hardest bit of work they’ll do all day, that gig. Oh, they’ll claim they’re
tired but that’s only because they've spent the night shaggin’ or boozin’ or
partyin’. Whilst on tour the rest of the day, until showtime, is theirs to do
with as they will so no sympathy from captain sensible here. Yes, they’ll have
to do regular trips to the recording studio but from one who’s done a fair bit
of that can I just say it’s not like hewing coal, y’know? One of the things
that’s most annoying that you come across working in theatre (in a whole string
of annoying things it has to be said) is when you hear actors telling anyone
who’ll listen that ‘I’m EXHAUSTED’ and this after doing a matinee and evening
performance…exhausted. I mean, it isn't as if they’re spending 14 hours a day
in the dark mining diamonds for some fuck-wit in Amsterdam with their bare
hands, or climbing up 140 foot ladders to harvest swift nests from cave
ceilings for the soup trade of rich, ungrateful fuck-over’s, is it? But nevertheless
they’re exhausted. Bless.
So, it’s sometimes refreshing to hear
of a person in the pop/rock world who’s got some balance in the crazy world
they operate in… unfortunately this isn't one of those times. It was on
this day in 2001 that Elton John decided to ditch twenty vehicles from out of his
car collection (making $2.75 mill in the process) because, and I quote;
‘I don’t have time to drive them
anymore.’
Really, Elton?! Why’s that then? Is
the necessity to complete the paper-round or your second job at the chip-shop
curtailing your free time?
Cue violins, 150 dancers dressed in a
combination of mournful blue velvet covered with tear-drops formed into
snowflakes all made from the sweat of a Unicorn transported from the 
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