Just Who Is Killing The Music?

David — Wed, 26 Nov 2008 09:24:57 GMT

My good friend Andy Lund brought my attention to a great piece of writing, which I cannot resist reproducing here. Its by Mike Patton (he of faith No More and Mr. Bungle fame) and it frames very eloquently the argument that I have many times with local muso's: most of what is wrong with our industry can be laid squarely at their door because they simply are not positive or proactive enough and prefer whining to acting. So, read em and weep folks!

HOW WE EAT OUR YOUNG
By Mike Patton

If music is dying, musicians are killing it. Composers are the ones
decomposing it. We are as responsible as anyone--although we'd love
not to admit it. We lash out at "The Industry", blaming things like
corporate structure for our shitty music--but we are the ones making
it. We open the box they've given us and jump in, wrap ourselves up,
and even lick the stamp.

Why? Insecurity--the need for
acceptance--maybe even money. We're not thinking about our music, just
how it looks. One would rather have the warm tongue of a critic
licking his asshole than the tongue of his spouse. It gives him a
sense of validity and power. He seems to defy gravity. Maybe it is
because he doesn't know what the hell else to do. He sees it
coming--but freezes with panic like a deer in the headlights. Don't
laugh--I've done it and you probably have too. And it has undoubtedly
effected out music. (But have we learned anything form it?)

We know that we are mostly a lot of slobbering babies who need constant
stroking. We realize also in the moral order of society, we occupy
positions similar to the thief, pimp, or peeping tom. We know that
even if one has the pride of a bull, it is hard enough just to remain
focused in this world. It gives us millions upon millions of
images--distractions--all saying the same thing at the same time: DO
NOT THINK. If your fantasy and desire give you migraines, how easy it
is to forget them when there is so much to look at. Our creations die
quickly when abandoned like this.

Do we realize that we are eating our young? It seems the passion that moves us is accompanied by an incredible urge to squash it. It is as quick as a fucking reflex--a
conditioned response. It it a sexual problem? A puritanical one? The
most intense and convincing music achieves a sexual level of
expression, but what we normally feel is frigidity and limpness. It is
just too easy for an artist to 'socialize' his desires when life tells
him cardboard is OK. You should be ashamed of yourself! What is your
fucking problem? If you don't come out, sooner or later you will die
in there. Use chunks of yourself. Bodily fluids. Look left and right.
Sift through others' belongings. Borrow. Steal. And try to achieve
some sort of pleasure while doing it.

This excitement should increase and intensify when you visualize it being shared by a number of people. Think about it. If it comes from inside you, it is
automatically valid--it just may or may not be good. Because if it is
not communicating in some way, its pleasure is as short-lived as a
quick fuck in the back room. It doesn't mean shit. The labor of many
composers is to construct elaborate walls of sound--but we often
forget to leave a window or door to crawl out of. ow can we survive in
these clever little rooms? We must eat our creation or we will starve.

At this point, we have heard what we wanted to hear--our ears have
shut down. We've resigned as slaves to our own gluttony. But if we
have boarded up our learning environment, our only way out is to teach
what we know. Will they listen? Why should they? Because they need you
as much as you need them. You can save them from being swallowed up by
the world--they can save you from being swallowed up by the world.
Young and old players should be seeking each other out and using each
other. They should develope a healthy exchange of smut--and learn to
wear each other's masks. In this kind of environment, incredible
things can happen. Music can emerge that is athletic and personal.
Music that is riddled with contradictions--impossibilities. And that
is the shit that can defy gravity.
(The End)

The Chiz : Andy Lund

Just Who Is Killing The Music?