Radio 1 makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a spoon

Over the past year or so I have worked in offices with the relaxed policy of allowing us to conduct our menial tasks to the background of radio. Fair enough you may think, but as with any medium of culture, many otherwise sane and reasonable people tend to default to whatever mainstream shite is put under their noses. In this case I mean Radio 1 with all of its inherent horrors.

I mean, please tell me why they must play the same songs endlessly? I don’t expect any radio station to cater exactly to my taste, but at least play varied garbage instead of the same hourly abominations – I’m thinking of Nickelback, Mark Ronson, The Enemy, Pigeon Detectives, Kate Nash, Scouting For Girls and Just Jack to name but a few, not to mention that straight-to-mobile dance music as favoured by tracksuited top-deck skip-rats on a bus near you.

Anyway, surely this heavy rotation can have a ruinous effect on the hapless poppets? I initially thought of Duffy, say, as being just about passable – blessed with a decent soulful voice with songs that, if not something I would choose to listen to, were at least tastefully arranged with a nod to classic soul. However, she is played so fecking often on mainstream radio that familiarity has progressed beyond contempt and now has me thinking that Warwick Avenue is not in fact a tube station, rather one of the more severe circles of Hell from Dante’s Inferno.

Don’t get me started on the presenters either. Prior to my exposure to Radio 1, I was faintly aware of Jo Whiley as being a fairly warm and gregarious character on TV. However, since I discovered that she will without warning (and with malice of forethought) slide a Mika track into the playlist like a knife between the ribs, I now think of her as Jo Whiley: The Smiling Assassin.

At least with Chris Moyles you know you’re getting an abrasive, corpulent lout from the outset. I was most heartened when I read the following line in John Peel’s autobiography - “When Chris Moyles came to Radio 1, I thought about strapping explosives to myself and taking us both out. I’m an old man now, it’ll make little difference.” However, I was slightly deflated when I read on and found that when they met “he realised he rather liked him.”

But then, perhaps it is testament to the warm and gentle nature of the great man that he found it in his heart to forgive Moyles. I, on the other hand, cannot and feel that radio would be a better place were Moyles to indeed dissolve in a cloud of semtex and semi-digested pies.

To put this into context, let me state that I find myself praying for the occasional light relief of tweedy Radio 2, featuring such daytime luminaries as Ken Bruce, Terry Wogan and Steve Wright. Granted, these three gents may play Summer Holiday by Cliff Richard or something by Tex-Mex nightmare merchants The Mavericks, but you should only hear each individual atrocity once in a blue moon, or sandwiched between some nice Motown or Kinks – it’s just enough to prevent me stabbing kitchen implements into my optical organs.

Yes, a little autonomy is a wonderful thing – I only pray the string-pullers at Radio 1 become aware of this salient point, lest my working day sees me develop further into a ticking timebomb of misanthropic, silent rage.

DIY is the new Rock 'n' Roll

It was mooted last week that persistent illegal downloaders could lose their internet service provision, in the music industry’s latest bid to claw back lost revenue. Figures were wheeled out to the tune of billions lost due to illicit filesharing.

Perhaps riled at perceptions of continued greed and musical autocracy, the industry defends itself by saying that funds lost by downloads prevent investment in new talent. However, far from being some benevolent gesture, record companies will seek to recoup this investment via album sales, gigs etc which can leave little for the artist.

Besides, much of the “new talent” that gets grossly-hyped by major labels is formulaic music that is already proven to sell. If they could no longer afford to tout supermarket dross like Adele, Kate Nash and The Hoosiers then that would be wonderful.

Anyway, are record companies even necessary anymore? To any aspiring artists, I would say this: why entrust your music to businessmen who will take the money, influence the music and ultimately own you? If you really want to succeed, then record, gig and promote yourself. It’s 2008 and the tools are there.

For example, bands can now record themselves on their laptops without relying on record companies to pay for hideously-expensive studio time. MySpace and similar sites make it easier than ever for bands to get their music heard. Getting a gig isn’t difficult in a big city with a plethora of venues, so leave the sticks and head to Manchester or London. Play everywhere, work hard and if you’re any good you’ll make it – word of mouth is a powerful and much-underrated marketing tool.

That said, I suppose it depends how you define “make it” – is making great records and playing life-affirming gigs not reward enough in itself, or do you need the swimming pool and Bugatti Veyron?

To quote no less a luminary than Johnny Marr from his Guardian interview last week: “Many bands think you can't make it without some fat cat in London or New York to manage you. That's just crap. All you need is someone a bit older than you with a bit of business nous whom you trust. I got to know this bloke [Joe Moss] who ran the clothes shop next door to the one I was working in and I'm proud to say we've been together ever since."

This alternative route of cutting out the middleman and paying the band directly for their wares could keep down the cost of legal music whilst ensuring the band are rewarded for their efforts. Just a thought.

Who Stole The Soul?

I’ve long been a fan of 1970s soul and funk. In the early part of that decade, exemplars like Stevie Wonder, Al Green and Marvin Gaye transformed soul from the three-minute pop wonders of 1960’s Motown into a complex, album-based genre. These pioneers produced some of the finest music extant; transcendent yet accessible and with a depth and social conscience to match any of the rock world’s heavy hitters.

But what happened? Where are the true 21st century descendants of this rich lineage? I ask because the singular crassness of 1990s “R & B” casts a long shadow even now. I use the phrase “R & B” with huge reluctance - singing 12 notes where one would suffice over a synthetic karaoke backing counts neither as Rhythm nor Blues, just excruciating dirge.

It is my contention that soul music never recovered from the technological advances of the 1980s. For me, a genre so reliant on the expression of human emotion, frailties and idiosyncrasies is fundamentally at odds with the cold metallic precision of a drum machine or digital synthesizer.

Perhaps the rise of hip-hop is also to blame. I’ve never quite been able to get my head around hip-hop; the machismo, posturing and self-aggrandisement of much of this genre are at odds with the vulnerability and everyman appeal of soul.

I’m generalising, of course. For example, I respect Chuck D (of Public Enemy) for his intelligence and righteous anger, which he channels in a positive way to provoke debate and make change for the greater good. Indeed, I’ve often read that the post-millennial production chicanery of Timbaland and The Neptunes is far more innovative and worthy than guitar-toting white boys plundering old Joy Division riffs. This is pretty much undeniable, but to me it just ain’t soul.

Bands to watch in 2008

Last year I chanced upon several bands in the embryonic stages of success/recognition, they may or may not make it big in 2008 but they are all worth a look if you’ve not come across them yet:

The Runners – I saw them at a festival last year and immediately yawned at the prospect of another bunch of skinny-trousered indie boys thrashing Telecasters to dancey rhythms. I was, however, wrong as this bunch do it rather well and just seemed to want it that little bit more than every other band in the place. A professional, well-oiled machine with great tunes to boot, fronted by a young Mick Jagger-alike who sings like an angel and plays guitar like a demon. Accessible, anthemic, passionate…can’t fail really.

http://www.myspace.com/therunnersband

Popular Workshop – A trio with just the right balance of abrasion and tunes. Live, their bassist is a fantastic showman, practically body-popping despite wielding a huge Rickenbacker. Apparently he's a frustrated guitarist, relegated to bass as a punishment for his penchant for Led Zeppelin riffs (nothing wrong with that, I say.) Perhaps his frustrations are manifested in his onstage frugging.

http://www.myspace.com/popularworkshop

Hey Gravity – Melodic, thrashy and intense with a mesmerising lead singer who scared the bejaysus out of me when I saw them play – I was most relieved when her mic cable didn’t stretch far enough for her to enter the crowd, despite her best efforts. The two videos on their myspace page hint at this, though I think she was on her best behaviour/final warning as her performances are restrained by comparison.

http://www.myspace.com/heygravity

586 – A welcome alternative to all the identikit indie bands out there; they offer an impressive line in cabaret, fronted as they are by an ex-performance artist/diva and a 7ft Nick Drake lookalike who share a blatant onstage chemistry. Incidentally, I wish their song I’m Not A Fucking Monkey was on their myspace page. Must be seen live.

http://www.myspace.com/586

Blood Red Shoes – My initial, lazy-hack impression was that they struck me as a kind of White Stripes in drag: girl guitarist, boy drummer, both singing. They don’t sound much like the White Stripes though, and Laura-Mary is far too pretty to resemble Jack White in a frock. Sledgehammer riffs welded to drumming so intense it almost qualifies as an Olympic event, overlaid with cutesy voices. Primal stuff.

http://www.bloodredshoes.co.uk/