Thoughts, Grunge & Life

The A-listers who exist today are constantly unremarkable; a stripped, creatively minimal community damned by replication. The core sentiments attached to modern marketed music will generally, if not always, be weak, solely guided by profit and heavily dependent on historical music genres. There may be exceptions, of course; microscopic bits you don’t mind. But they only serve as a brief surfacing, a quick grab of air, before your senses are pushed back under again. The music industry business model will not allow for any artery to function too naturally; it won’t show life as it is in the grey pockets and large wasted areas. And if it tries to use realism, it always gives it perfect teeth. Don’t get me wrong, a lot more people are buying perfect teeth, but they’re still vastly outnumbered by the gum-diseased masses. The rot will always outnumber the glamour. Because of this, you want things to be raw, you want that impression to come back to you. Nothing at the moment is really reflecting this reality, so a shift is needed in musical creativity. It needs to be communicated in its actual form, and that is what our band believes in, lyrically and musically. We’re not punks. We’re not a wall you can paste your idea of working-class on either. We are just fucking fed up with it, mate. The lot. The music industry used to make allowances, there used to be glimmers of rough cuts, but that’s all but vanished and now it gives you prom bands with Hard-Rock delusions in black vests and Topman leather jackets singing about them “devil women”. Samey Winehouses singing forgettable songs in videos shot in poor areas. The willing and eager, the would-be stars, have no interest in their own experiences, of anything, so they go for the loot and the useless awards and hide behind shiny plastic walls made by fashion houses. DJs are so safe they ought to be holding seminars on fucking traffic awareness when crossing the road. The moment always evaporates and the A-listers always look like crap surfers on a flat wave refusing to believe they haven’t managed to convince anybody they just curled their board under a 60ft stunner.

“I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am.”