My night with the Sex Pistols

Fifty years ago, the Sex Pistols shocked the establishment, generated salacious media headlines, shook up the music industry, and scared local authorities into banning their concerts. They were even celebrated as “Young Businessmen of the Year” for managing to extract large amounts of money from clueless/gutless record labels – these labels effectively paid the band to simply go away and leave them alone. I would recommend watching “The Filth and The Fury” documentary to get a better understanding of this startling episode in music history.

Unfortunately, the Sex Pistols imploded within two years – so I didn’t have a chance to see them in their heyday. But fast forward 20 years, and the band brought their Filthy Lucre tour to Japan. I was living in Hong Kong then, and thanks to my old mate and celebrated author, David Quantick, I ended up spending a night in Tokyo with the Sex Pistols.

At the time, David was a writer for leading UK music magazines, and he’d come to Japan to cover some live gigs. When I met him at his Tokyo hotel, his first words were: “We can either go and see this Welsh indie band, or we can see the Sex Pistols at Budokan.” With apologies to Super Furry Animals, it was no contest, and the Pistols won hands down.

The gig itself was mainly memorable for the sight of a crowd of Japanese fans singing along to “I am an anti-Christ, I am an anarchist” – many of them wouldn’t have been born when the Sex Pistols were in their prime.

After the show, we went to a back stage area, where a rather desultory “after party” was happening – a few beers in a cavernous loading bay. If I recall correctly, The Sex Pistols (minus John Lydon) made a brief appearance, but it was clear they didn’t really want to be there. We soon got word that there was an “after after party” being hosted in a venue “nearby”, so with address in hand, we went in search of further adventures.

Although I’d been to Tokyo before, I’d forgotten that distances within the megatropolis can be deceptive, and “nearby” was somewhat misleading. Also, street addresses in Japan can be very confusing for visitors, and it was obvious we were never going to find the location unaided. Thanks to our taxi driver and some friendly strangers, we made it to the venue, which turned out to be a subterranean night club, occupying several floors.

Before I knew it, I was sitting next to Sex Pistols bass player, Glen Matlock. Next to him were guitarist Steve Jones and drummer Paul Cook. (Lydon, not surprisingly, was a no-show). I got into a long conversation with Glen, mainly about the Filthy Lucre tour, and  also about the band’s “reunion”. I was curious how they got on, given the acrimony that had seen Glen leave the original band in early 1977.

I soon realised that the drinks kept appearing at our table, but the bar staff didn’t ask for payment – so we were drinking on the Sex Pistols’ tab (or the Japanese promoter’s). I wish I’d taken a photo of me sitting alongside the three band members (“for one night only, John Lydon was replaced by an unknown singer…”) but selfie culture was not a thing back then.

A few hours later, the band and their immediate entourage had left. The club manager came over and politely explained that from now on, we would have to pay for our own drinks. Similar Japanese reserve and restraint was on display the next day. I had crashed at David’s hotel room in the early hours of the morning, but he had to depart soon after dawn to catch his flight home. I slept on, but around 10am or 11am, the phone rang. It was the hotel reception politely but firmly suggesting I should vacate the room as soon as possible. I can’t imagine such tolerance and patience being shown in many other places.

Fast forward another 14 years, and I was walking along Melbourne’s Collins Street on my way to work. I spotted a vaguely familiar face having a coffee at a pavement cafe.

“Are you Glen Matlock?”

“Who wants to know?”

Having quickly established my bona fides (and Glen corrected me as to the exact date of our previous encounter), it turned out that he was in town as part of Robert Gordon’s  backing band – an almost surreal supergroup that not even AI could have dreamt up. The Robert Gordon gig that weekend at Richmond’s Corner Hotel was something of a frustrating experience. It felt like the singer was simply going through the motions – his performance was more showbiz posture, and less musical substance. Anyway, it’s nice to see that Glen has found a new home as a member of Blondie (and a reputation for being an amiable grand old man of rock).

Next week: My night with the Buzzcocks

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Music, music everywhere…. and none of it very memorable

This past weekend I experienced a couple of musical events that were poles apart, but which also underlined how so much contemporary music is totally forgettable, due to both ubiquity and overabundance.

The first event was the Independent Music Exchange held in Melbourne. Here, a collection of small independent labels, distributors and retailers came together to promote their current catalogues. Most of the music was on vinyl, but there were also CDs and lots of cassettes. (Melbourne is allegedly the vinyl capital of the world…) Releases on sale included new product, plus swathes of back catalogue and archival reissues – some of which have only become well-known long after their initial release, or are only available again thanks to these independent companies because the original labels (often one of the big global players) have chosen not to keep them in print. I can’t pretend to have been very familiar with many of the items on display; but it was nevertheless gratifying to see the range and diversity, and to know that there is an audience for these types of music (judging by the number of punters attending the event), which is largely overlooked by broadcast radio and major streaming platforms.

The second event was an evening of Karaoke with friends, which largely featured music from the 80s and 90s (reflecting the age group), but which also included a reasonable selection of more recent tracks. I have to admit that any of the latter that I did recognise were songs I have heard as background music in public places, rather than as a conscious decision to listen to them. I’m also woefully ignorant of most of the artists behind these latest songs, and if they have reached my consciousness it’s probably as a result of a news story or social media campaign. Admittedly, I’m probably not the target audience for most of this newer music, so my ignorance can be forgiven!

The latest IFPI annual report reveals that nearly 70% of global music revenue comes from streaming platforms, around 17% from physical sales (of which vinyl is increasingly taking a bigger share), and just 3% from downloads and other digital formats. The remaining 10% is derived from performance rights and associated syndication licensing.

If streaming platforms have done one thing well, it is to help create an over abundance of “new” music. This is because they have reduced the costs of distribution, and in many cases, this new music is being self-released and directly uploaded by the artists themselves, rather than via record labels or music publishers. This applies to both the big brands like Spotify, Apple, Amazon, YouTube and Pandora, as well as the smaller players like Bandcamp and SoundCloud. However, easier and cheaper distribution has not reduced the costs of marketing and promotion; and thanks to certain algorithms, a lot of new music is being created just to get “discovered” via streaming and social media, based on listeners’ habits and/or preferences. There is also a debate about whether AI-generated music, artists or promotion should be allowed to co-exist on these streaming platforms; and if so, should they come with associated disclosures so listeners can choose to block AI-content? In some ways, it’s rather like the Enhanced Games competing with the Olympics, or consumers preferring to exclude GMO crops from the food chain – the boundaries are blurred, and once the content is in the system, everything else becomes tainted or infected.

I recently read a blog by an independent recording artist and curator who was bemoaning the current state of the music industry – specifically, the noise and hype around so much current music – the main conclusion being that thanks to the algorithms and the repetition, it was dulling his appetite to engage with new music. I can certainly empathise with this perspective – often, the announcement of this or that new album or a “sneak peak” (i.e., co-ordinated leak) of a carefully stage-managed artist collaboration is more significant than the music itself. It feels like the amount of promotion thrown at a song or a music video is in inverse proportion to the quality of the release.

The ubiquity of highly homogenised popular music is down to three main factors:

  1. The tech (streaming, AI, algorithms)
  2. Record labels (guilty of pushing “fast fashion”-type music)
  3. TV talent shows (Eurovision, X-factor, The Voice, Pop Idol) that push a very narrow agenda, and are guilty of form over substance

BUT at the end of the day, I can’t help also thinking that the public gets what the public wants (to quote Paul Weller): “You are what you listen to”. So choosing to engage with this type of content only perpetuates its creation and existence – and “helped” by this ubiquity and overabundance, most of this new music is ultimately disposable and totally forgettable.

Next week: My night with the Sex Pistols

Pop in Perpetuity

Exactly a year ago, I blogged about ageing rockers and their propensity to continue touring and recording. This past weekend I experienced two events that provided almost polar opposites as to how musicians will perpetuate their “live” legacy. (Of course, in theory, their recordings will last forever, in physical, digital and streaming formats – as long as the equipment, technology and platforms survive…)

On the one hand, there was the Sun Ra Arkestra, who since their founder’s death in 1993, have continued to play the music of Sun Ra, respecting the sound, format and spirit of the original band formed in the 1950s. Some of the current band members played with Sun Ra himself, so there is a thread of continuity that connects us back to the past. But even as these surviving members depart this world, the music of Sun Ra will live on in concert form through subsequent generations of players. This type of perpetuity is not uncommon among bands of the 60s, 70s and 80s, although in many cases, there is usually at least one original band member performing, or members who overlapped with the band founders. (Some notable exceptions: Soft Machine, who continue performing and recording, but whose remaining original member left nearly 50 years ago; and Faust, who split into at least two separate bands that still tour and record under the same name.)

On the other hand, there was the high-tech concert presentation by the late composer and performer Ryuichi Sakamoto, entitled KAGAMI. This involved the use of AR headsets and a 3D avatar of Sakamoto, captured in sound and vision performing a selection of his music, sat at a grand piano. The audience, initially seated in a circle around the virtual performance area in order to acclimatise to what they were seeing, was invited to move around the avatar, and even peer into the open grand piano. Two things were striking: first, the 360 degree image was very impressive in the level of detail; second, even if someone was standing between the viewer and the avatar zone, the headset still presented the image of Sakamoto sat at the keyboard. The technology not only captures a digital visualisation of the pianist in action, it also replicates the notes he played as well as the tonal expression and the timbres, resonances and acoustics of the physical instrument. While the audio HiFi was superior to the atavistic CGI, the latter will no doubt improve; as will the slightly clunky and heavy headsets – the 50 minute duration is probably the most I could have endured.

Neither format of the above concerts is better or superior to the other. Both are authentic in their own way, and true to the artistry of musicians they celebrate. Of course, if we end up using AI to compose “new” music by Sakamoto, that may undermine that authenticity. But given Sun Ra’s origin story, I wouldn’t be surprised if he started beaming his new works from Saturn.

 

Ticket scalpers? Blockchain could fix that!

Music fans of a certain age and demographic have been complaining loudly about the use of “dynamic pricing” when trying to buy tickets for their favourite band’s highly anticipated reunion tour. (There must be a pun in there about “Don’t book online in anger”?)

Part of the rationale given for using a demand-based pricing system is to disincentivise scalpers. The higher the cost of the ticket in the primary market (not the same as the ticket’s face value), the smaller the potential mark-up in the secondary market. Except that some tickets with a face value of $150 were priced at $450 at the box office, only to be re-advertised in the secondary market for several thousand dollars. In other words, the touts have simply increased their margins, in response to the so-called dynamic pricing mechanism.

Without offering any sort of apology or mea culpa, the said band have now announced additional tour dates, tickets for which will be allocated and sold in a form of ballot. Stop me if you think I’m being cynical, but by quickly adding dates to an existing tour itinerary, it shows that the band knew there would be excess demand, because it’s not that easy to reserve major (and highly profitable) venues, even 12 months in advance. And if they can run a ballot system now, why couldn’t they have done that in the first place?

All of which simply shows how out of touch bands like this are with technology and market dynamics. In short, ticket sales and allocations could have been achieved far more equitably if the band and their promoters had chosen to use blockchain, crypto and web3.0 solutions.

Here’s a simple list of options that could have been used:

1. Issue all tickets as NFTs (non-fungible tokens)

2. Limit the number of tickets per digital wallet and/or the number of wallets per ticket buyer

3. Ensure the use of soul-bound tokens to link wallet ownership and ID to specific individuals (to limit the number of tickets per wallet, and to limit the resale of tickets)

4. Run social media campaigns, quests and airdrops to allocate and distribute tokens that entitle holders to a place in the ticket queue – e.g., the more active a wallet holder is in the band’s fan community, the higher their chance of securing a priority place in the ticket queue

5. Pre-publish the expected ticket price ranges, and enable wallet holders to vote on the minimum/maximum price they would be willing to pay (using something like Snapshot)

6. Cap the amount an NFT-based ticket can be sold for in the secondary market or write the token smart contract to allocate a percentage of the resale value as a commission to the ticket issuer

Of course, the UK competition regulators are taking a close look at this ticketing fiasco, to see if so-called dynamic pricing breached fair trading or other consumer protection laws. If punters were not aware that they may have to pay far more than the advertised or face value of a ticket, this would appear to be unfair and unconscionable conduct. It’s potentially a form of under-quoting – advertise the ticket at a artificially low price, then force buyers to pay well over the face value at the actual point of sale (under the guise of “market demand”), knowing full well that the fans had little or no choice in the matter.

One final thought – knowing the volatile history of this band, the chances are that the concerts (or at least some of them) may be cancelled. Hopefully, the ticket agent and box office operators won’t be counting the advance ticket sales as recognised revenue, rather they are required to hold the funds in a verified escrow account until the performances are delivered and the ticket revenue actually earned….. (again, something that could be easily factored into a smart contract – no release of funds until the loud-mouth sings?).

Next week: Cooking the books?