October 29th – Nothing worse than being found to
be foolish, is there; even in private? As with any genre of music there’s
always a level of hubris that accompanies it. Most periods in pop/rock history
have come with a belief or tenet bolted onto them. The bands that get caught up
in this cod-philosophy (sometimes not of their own volition, OK, but more often
that not they willingly wear the cloak of our manufacture ‘cos it shifts units)
are lauded by their followers and publicists alike (particularly by their
publicists) as the saviour of all the ills in the world. Their lyrics are
scanned and dissected for hidden meanings (like the belief that Dark Side of the Moon was in fact written
as a substitute score for The Wizard of
Oz) and s often as not the posing and acting they indulge in so they can
shift units is taken as an actual way to live by the more gullible of the population
(Gangsta/Dancehall Guns ‘n’ Ho’s
ideologies being a case in point) and whole swathes of the populace don the
uniform of complicity to show their solidarity with the movement; hence the New Romantics, Bowie Androgyny, Teddy Boys,
Mods and Rockers and Punks to
name a few.
New Romantics loved themselves, Bowie Androgyny folk didn’t know quite
who to love but definitely loved someone, Teddy
Boys and Mods and Rockers just
kicked the fuck out of each other and anyone else too; all have had their
moment in the sun but Punk culture in
particular was (is?) the one that was (is?) seemingly the most overtly
anti-establishment. Not wishing to diss the ideology (I’ve written before here
about one of the standout gigs of my life being when I saw Rage Against the Machine in Brixton and how the sight of 3000
people all baying for blood was a chilling and sobering sight; can’t quite see
how anarchy solves our world problems but, they were having a damn good time,
so…) but those who actually followed the Punk movement, as opposed to the rich
pricks who just enjoyed slumming it with the gutter-children for an evening
before returning to their suite at the Grosvenor
Hotel, did so in the firm belief that they and their companions, and
particularly their companions in the bands, were against the man, were against all the bourgeois capitalist slime-balls who
preyed on society and only saw the money. That this movement blossomed as the
legacy of Thatcherism is beyond doubt;
keep a sufficient number of the population in penury but in sight of gross-out
largesse by their rulers and even an idiot would know that, eventually, the
shit will indeed hit the fan.
To put this in perspective you have to look at the ‘then and
now’ and my belief is that, in many aspects, I realise they were right. Look
where we are now, post the free market
and the grab-as-grab-can-fuck-‘em-all-bar-one-and-bollocks-to-him
culture we’re living in now; up shit-creek without a paddle watching the
moneyed class sail by us on cruise liners, full champers glass in one hand, giving
the bird with the other. Thing is though, you see, as in all these endeavours
we’re caught on the horns of a dilemma; in order to continue the movement’s
forward progress you have to make money. Bands like Siouxsie and the Banshees, The
Clash, Black Flag, The Ramones all called for recognition and changes in
society to make it more equal for all. Thing is, if you’re earning mega-bucks,
being fed and catered for and have an army of slaves to do the work for you
whilst your fans are still at the arse-end of life it’s a difficult circle to
square; and once you get used to that style of life it’s an even more difficult
corral to break out of; take the tale of The
Dead Kennedys for example.
First came into contact with them when I did a gig at Edwards in Brum back in the early 90’s,
I think. I was in the company of two mega musicians (Paul and Debbie) who were
and are still very precious to me and we were support for a band who’s name I
can no longer recall (sorry) but who were, I seem to remember, very good;
worthy of the top slot. Their set was OK (I know we were well on a par with
them) and one cover they did was a Dead
Kennedy’s track called Too Drunk to
Fuck. Title alone is enough to get you interested and they acquitted
themselves and the cover really well, some nice double-pedal work and an energy
that pushed the track along like a
train; very good. After the gig I looked out the Dead Kennedy’s back catalogue and press…they are described as a
hardcore punk band; dead right.
Anti-establishment to their toenails they underwent obscenity
trials, were banned at various times by radio, TV, press, government, played
under pseudonyms because their band name was seen as provocative…oh, really?
Well there’s a thing then – but once again we get the alert that the
establishment are just a bunch of ignorant fucks with no more right to comment
on contemporary society than a seal has to comment on the lot of the penguin
‘cos the name, The Dead Kennedy’s,
was chosen to signify the end of the American dream; that’s what happens when
squares get in control of rock…
They completely disrupted the Bay Area Music Awards in San Francisco in 1980 when, by invite,
they were asked to perform and decided on a track called California Uber Alles; geddit? The A&R men and awards
organisers obviously didn’t. The band rehearsed diligently all day and all were
pleased with the result. They donned stage uniform (which included a white ‘T’
shirt with a big black ‘S’ on the front) and 15 seconds into the number
stopped, flipped black ties from round their backs to drape across the S,
thereby turning it into a $ sign, and broke into a rendition of Pull My Strings which, apart from its
brutal lyrical breakdown about the ethics of the music industry, held the
interesting line,
Is my cock big enough; is my
brain small enough, for you to make me a star?
Sweet.
With that as their pedigree then, it was less than edifying to
read the coverage of their massive spat in the courts (which opened up on this
day in 1998) when the cumulative band dosh was dealt out and certain members
considered they had been less than well treated. Anyone in the music biz, it’s
worth reading the trial data ‘cos it goes to show that, no matter how close you
think you are in band, there’s always going to be one arse who thinks he’s
worth more (usually the vocalist) and how things can so quickly and so brutally
go tits. My advice (for what it’s worth) is no matter who writes the material
it wouldn’t be the success it was without the input and interpretation of the
other band members so, equal shares for all; equal.
As for The Dead Kennedys;
sad old end to something of worth, I think. Not necessarily their central
belief, although it has much to commend it, but certainly using their position
and ability to call folk out for what they are. There’s not enough of that
these days. We hear of multi-national companies killing, poisoning, defrauding,
swindling the populace and yet, in the vast, vast majority of cases their names
are never published. Look, if what is happening is shit then its shit and, as
I’ve mentioned before, you can’t polish a turd. Thing is folk think it’s OK to
roll that turd in glitter, dress up simple statements in cloaks of language (redaction of statements for crossing out
or hiding statements so they can’t be read and the truth remaining hidden or being economical with the truth for
lying) and so the crime, the criminal and tomfoolery continues…and we let it.
You know you’re in alien territory when a song written by a band who espouse to
be the spokespeople for their generation, Too
Drunk to Fuck, was used by Mr. Tarantino (you know my opinion of him by
now) as the backing track to a rape scene: in the words of the DK’s lead singer,
Jello Biafra;
This is the lowest point
since Levi's… This goes against everything the Dead Kennedys stands for, in spades…
The terrified woman later wins by killing Tarantino, but that excuse
does not rescue this at all. I wrote every note of that song and this is not
what it was meant for…. Some people will do anything for money.
The squabbling and unsightly shallow marketing of their work by
the band members (even serving up music for that monster, population skewing
corporation Coca-Cola at one point in
2003) only serves to be a reminder that Jello Biafra’ s right in… well, in every
respect.
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