Issue 35 / July 2013

10
Bido Lito!
July 2013
Words: Jessie Main / @JessieMainMusic
Illustration: Garreth Gibson / @garrethgibson
The KLF’s Bill Drummond and Jimmy Cauty (aka The Timelords)
demonstrated their true genius when it emerged that other artists
had been successful in utilising their almanac The Manual (How
To Have A Number One The Easy Way) to break into the charts. The
anarchists’ project perfectly illustrated the flaws in the industry,
showing how, with the right line of attack, really anyone could
make it to the top spot, without money or musical skills. Their labrat
was a horrendous self-proclaimed meaningless landmark of
shite based on the Doctor Who theme tune, and it was as glorious
as it was demoralising. Amongst their explicit instructions on how
to approach the industry big wigs, lifestyle advice - “first you must
be skint and on the dole” - and tools needed for the job, lie the
“Golden Rules”. The Manual was written in 1988, but these still
make for a fairly frustrating read:
“Firstly, it has to have a dance groove that will run all the way
through the record and that the current 7” buying generation
will find irresistible. Secondly, it must be no longer than three
minutes and thirty seconds (just under 3’20” is preferable). If they
are any longer Radio 1 daytime DJs will start fading early or talking
over the end, when the chorus is finally being hammered home
– the most important part of any record. Thirdly, it must consist
of an intro, a verse, a chorus, second verse, a second chorus, a
breakdown section, back into a double length chorus and outro.
Fourthly, lyrics. You will need some, but not many.”
It’s 25 years old,
but still pretty depressingly
‘on
the
money’,
as it
were. It showcases the naked truth of the lucrative pop song’s
building blocks, viscerally geared towards the quantifiable success
story. As a method it is not indicative of emotions or experience,
instead it emphasises the feeding of our ears with a formula that
has ‘worked’ for at least the past quarter of a century, if not since
the advent of pop music. It is a sign of the perpetual cycle that
means pop music is littered with the same ideas over and over
again. The famed music journalist David Quantick touched on
this idea, ultimately coining the phrase ‘pop will eat itself’, after
which the group formerly known as Wild And Wandering renamed
themselves. And we don’t have to look far to see examples. In Rob
Paravonian’s Pachelbel Rant, (which can be found on YouTube) the
comedian laments the repetitive cello line in Pachelbel’s Canon
in D following him. It highlights the sheer number of pop songs
based on that chord progression, something I’m not sure our
mate Johann could have ever predicted back in the 1700s.
It’s not just ‘pop’ that is implicated: our western tonal system
has been used for literally hundreds of years, and most ‘popular’
(that is, not classical) genres tend to showcase tracks under five
minutes long that stick to one major or minor key. Are we not
eventually going to run out of anything completely original? Have
we already done so? Are we not just swallowing and regurgitating
ideas like cows chewing the cud, coughing up the same mulch
again and again, which we’ll eventually have to gulp down for
good, leaving nothing but malnutrition and a bitter
aftertaste? The cows will eventually move on
to fresh pastures – and we must do the
same. Who was the last artist to
sound like no other before, and
also have a profound effect on
all who came
after?
There isn’t a priority to sound like no other before. On the
contrary, musicians are proud to list the artists who have influenced
them. Taking inspiration external to the formula means that there
is potential for an array of variations. One thing the Pachelbel
rant does show is that, given four chords, different people will
come up with vastly different ideas. Maybe not entirely original
sounding, but different.
Perhaps a more aligned and less shoot-a-stake-through-myheart-I-can’t-listen-to-this-crap-anymore
example is the rich
tradition of the blues – a whole genre based on the same or a
similar chord progression, which yet has a plethora of emotion
and real experience running through it.
“So why don’t all songs sound the same?” ask the KLF. “Why
are some artists great, write dozens of classics that move you
to tears, say it like it’s never been said before, make you laugh,
dance, blow your mind, fall in love, take to the streets and riot?
Well, it’s because although the chords, notes, harmonies, beats
and words have all been used before, their own soul shines
through; their personality demands attention.”
To an outsider, perhaps it does sound the same. But maybe
that’s OK. I think the familiarity of popular music doesn’t detract
from its value. I’m not saying when it comes to manufactured
pop one should find meaning that isn’t there in what is
usually a guilty pleasure. But instead, like the arse-coloured
misery paste that is eventually served up to us in the form of
Chicken McNuggets, perhaps some kind of originality lies in the
experience of consumption. The elements of the composition
are pretty much identical, but our experience is slightly different
every time, depending on where we are in life, or even what
else we have consumed that day. The product is serving a
certain purpose and is serving it well. I love McNuggets, but not
in the same way I love foie gras or, say, The National. And, as
that tenuous analogy starts to lose its legs, within music
that inspires us the quest for originality turns in on itself –
what we’re actually listening out for is music that keeps us
feeling, that speaks to us.
The likelihood is that we are always going to be subjected to
what the Radio 1 Chart show can spit out, with the perpetrators
gleaning little pieces of ‘sellable’ information each time. As we
evolve, they will produce music that reacts well with the
taste buds of the masses. They always have done.
Luckily, in our city and so many others, in communityrun
music venues, in garages, in warehouses, in
bedrooms, or in my case in the shower, there are people
pouring new experiences into the music they write, using
the language of tonality to manifest their uniqueness.
Unable to provide a phrasebook to everyone listening,
writers leave their work open to the interpretation of
the varied complicated lives of music lovers.
And it’s happening with all genres,
even the ones that come out
sounding like pop.
Gig Guide and Ticket Shop live at www.bidolito.co.uk