Random Play by Graham Reid

Back when Bailterspace were our Great White Guitar Hope people here got very excited about the fact they played at CBGB’s in New York. I didn’t want to rain on anybody’s optimism but always pointed out that a lot of bands played at CBGB’s, sometimes as many as four a night.

At that time I had been to that famous club a number of times, once when a Well Known Kiwi Band were playing there to an audience of about 35 people. I chatted with a girl from Christchurch.

Back home their New York "success" was trumpeted, but having been there I saw it . . . Well, let’s be charitable and just say, differently.

Memories of that and many other incidents involving Kiwi bands I have seen abroad came back when I read Neil Finn’s comments to Real Groove as reported in the Herald last week.

The adversarial nature of news reporting inevitably focussed on his comments about Helen Clark and the following day the call-response stoush was on. The Herald spoke to Ray Columbus and Sir Howard Morrison who weighed in to support the prime minister.

With all due respect to these two people -- Ray whom I don’t know but have liked very much every time we have met, and Sir Howard whose longevity I respect -- they hardly seemed the people I would have thought to be sought out for comment. (What, Frankie Stevens and Megan Alatini not available?)

Anyway, Finn’s snipe at Clark and the subsequent reports somewhat overshadowed the other and more important points he was making: essentially that it’s tough and indifferent out there in the international music marketplace, and that despite the money and enthusiasm pushing Kiwi bands into the world very few of them will make it.

He also seemed to be saying we shouldn’t be deluded about what these bands are actually achieving. Or even capable of achieving.

Of course comments like that -- general, but borne of long experience that we might want to take seriously and not dismiss as sour grapes as some have done -- don’t have a clear target as did his barbs about Clark. So it is harder to haul out a counterpunch debate of a few paragraphs. But they are points worth considering, especially in this month where we celebrate New Zealand Music.

Which brings me back to Bailterspace. Much as we might want our bands to succeed and we hail any small breakthrough, we might need to be realists and face the hard and uncomfortable truths: that a lot of these so-called international successes -- playing at CBGB’s or South By SouthWest -- actually mean more for home consumption than they do in the world.

The bands who play SXSW certainly get experience -- and my god do Kiwi bands need it.

One of the endemic problems we have in a small country is that bands play too infrequently. They don’t sort of get their stamina up.

I used to joke -- but it was true -- that most Flying Nun bands seemed to play two gigs in a week then need six months to lie down and recover. That is hardly going to prepare them for dates in the States or Europe. Or even just 10 days straight anywhere.

The other thing I always found strange was when bands from outside of Auckland came to the Big City some found it intimidatingly huge. I remember when Roger Sheppard of Flying Nun told me with his typically bemused grin that a particular band from the South were scared of the size of Auckland. I said if they thought that of Auckland he should tell them to forget about going to London or LA. Or even Birmingham.

Bands from here -- perhaps deluded by the success of MTV and MySpace acts -- seem to think that success can come on the back of a single or video clip. It can and has, but not often. Unfashionable though it may be, most bands and artists still make it by playing live to as many people as they can.

The tyranny of a small country is that it is easy to exhaust the local touring circuit -- although bugger all bands have tried in my opinion.

So you need to go overseas -- and not just to play a couple gigs then come back home for a cuppa tea and lie down. If you do that I figure you’re not that serious. You want success -- but still have mum do your laundry.

Bands or artists may need to base themselves offshore -- as an increasing number are realising. Greg Johnson is still slogging away in LA and every time I’ve seen him either up there or here it is always the same story: the breakthrough is just beyond reach but you have to keep trying. And you have to be there if it happens.

Jon Toogood of Shihad told me once that what they had learned by being the support act on a leg of a Major Band’s US tour was that playing a big gig in Denver actually means nothing of itself. They - Shihad that is -- might not get back to Denver for another 18 months by which time they were long forgotten, even by those who once howled approval.

Better then, in the States or Europe, to base yourself somewhere and work your local region -- which in the States might mean California where you can travel up and down the coast for years without outstaying your welcome, but also revisiting some areas where you make good and can build a local following.

It is a brutal life and I, who have not done it, only have admiration for people like Neil Finn and Don McGlashan who slogged it out and made sacrifices for years. And for my own three kids who work day jobs in London (as you do) and play in two separate bands. They are playing regularly, recording, one of the bands has done a tour of Poland (yep, you don’t think of it at this distance but they do have paying rock fans and concert halls in Poland) and I think their hard work will pay off. Seems to be anyway.

They are also in a very different social and emotional environment than we have here.

In the latest Real Groove where Neil Finn’s comments were published I have done an interview with Auckland singer-songwriter Miriam Clancy (who plays this Thursday at the Schooner Tavern incidentally).

In that I mention that she and her husband and young child are off back to the States so she can pursue her career there. They sold their house here a while ago so they could afford for her to record her debut album Lucky One which I think was one of the best albums of last year. Now they are looking to base themselves over in the States, maybe Nashville.

The point I made in the article is that unlike here the music community in Nashville will critique her work, here we provide a support network. But music isn’t a community project and never has been. Yes, we should support New Zealand music in terms of financial assistance and especially schemes like Outward Sound -- but at the end of it all it needs to be recognised that the new OpShop album isn’t competing for attention with the new album by the Tweeks from Dunedin, it is up against Arcade Fire, the Arctic Monkeys, Clinic etc etc.

My belief is that too often artists here -- and I am listening to two local albums at the moment which, while well intentioned, I wouldn’t give you tuppence for -- don’t have their work critiqued at every step of the process: in the writing, the recording, production, even the running order on an album.

Those who base themselves off shore are surrounded by so many more musical and cultural influences, so much more information, so many more points of reference or comparison.

Music is an international game and if artists only want success in this country then that is fine. I think they, if they deserve it on merit, should have it.

But for those who see something bigger and better out there -- a career even -- then the sights must be set beyond the horizon. But not through rose-tinted glasses.

Without wishing to speak for him or interpret his words, what I think Neil Finn was saying was that we need to be pragmatic and hard-nosed about this music business. It certainly is.

And ambitious musicians who aren’t tough/prepared/professional/hard-working and so on in all kinds of ways may find the world cruel and indifferent to them.

I think he was, in an off-the-cuff way, saying something that we need to hear more. The press releases about our bands at SXSW or playing a big Waitangi Day gig in London, or having a track added a TripleJ or flying to some Sydney-side MTV bash with a bunch of hangers-on need to be put into perspective.

It struck me that while a few people got huffy about Neil Finn’s remarks about Helen Clark our attention might have been better directed at what else he had to say.

But maybe that was a bit uncomfortable -- and in New Zealand Music Month we don’t want to hear it.

I believe I accept my aging with alacrity. After all, whatcha gonna do about it? And as far as I can tell it seems better than that which awaits me when it’s over. In that regard I have even written my own obituary: “Having achieved the inevitable, he went Elsewhere”.

What I didn’t expected however was the sudden onset of aging. This came to me not from my doctor whom I rarely trouble, but from Television One News last night.

In their teaser for the upcoming items the voice-over from Bernadine Oliver-Kerby spoke of an “elderly” woman who died after being mauled by dogs. Tragic, so I tuned in.

In the subsequent item however we were told the woman was aged 56. So, 56 equals "elderly" these days, does it?

This was alarming news to me who expects to celebrate that happy day in a couple of months. And doubtless it will be a shock to Bruce Springsteen (a positively decrepit 57) and our own mountain-climbing -- but elderly -- Prime Minister (also 57) who, when I said hello to her on Saturday morning as she strode purposefully and in obvious good health into her electorate office, seemed positively chipper despite her advanced years.

Aren’t these elderly people quite remarkable?

Golly, Sir Edmund Hillary lead a jetboat expedition up the Ganges when he was 57 -- and dude, that is, like, “elderly, plus one”.

A week ago I was a guest commentator on Newstalk ZB with Michelle Boag and the topic of cuts to the news and current affairs staff at One came up. Amidst the wailing and gnashing of teeth in the media at that time -- and blatant hypocrisy spouted by some who were once gainfully employed there, and someone who also fired staff thus allowing the barbarians to walk through the gate -- it seemed to me a great question remained unasked.

The argument about how news and current affairs would now be kneecapped seemed, as I said on radio, predicated on the assumption that One’s crews were doing a sterling job in these areas anyway.

I beg to differ. Television news on both channels is the bit that comes before sport, and no matter how weighty the day’s events we will always turn to lengthy sports coverage then inane and equally lengthy blather about the weather.

And often the news is taken up with the two easiest things to cover: crime (and I include accidents) and . . . you guess it, the weather.

Crime is almost invariably (like accidents) after-the-event stuff: shoot the scene, get the comment from witness and police, back to the studio. Weather is much the same: stand the presenter in the parched or flooded field, tell the drama, interview the farmer or affected household, back to the studio.

What we are also seeing a lot of on our ”news” is the teaser for the item on Close Up or 20/20 or whatever later: that’s called an ad in my book.

And are those current affairs programmes much better? Ask yourself.

So I have a pretty low expectation of what is on television news and current affairs these days. A point I made on radio however is that these cuts will affect what we might call corporate memory at One, the wisdom within an organisation accrued over the years and invariably stored in the heads of its employees. Older employees.

It is unreasonable and unfair to expect young journalists to have a knowledge of arcane social or political matters, of historic precedents, relevant gossip or even a good list of contacts -- that stuff belongs to those who have been around a bit. To lose that from within a company -- and perhaps particularly within one which deals with news and current affairs -- is a considerable cost.

I doubt any of those cuts have taken place at One yet, so where does this idea that 56 is elderly come from?

If it is from the script by the presenter or news reader then those people might just have to consider the uncomfortable corollary: if 56 is elderly then by definition they, a significant number of All Blacks, Warriors, Black Ferns and so on -- all their fashionable friends even -- must now be described as middle-aged.

Okay, I have some sympathy with those who are sick of people like myself, baby boomers as it were. We are hanging around far too long and being in Peter Pan-like denial about getting old. It is to the great chagrin of some I suppose that people like me are still active and working, and our presence is just plain irksome. They may even dislike the fact we use words like chagrin, irksome, corollary and alacrity -- and know what they mean.

But at almost 56 I am still here, and given the life expectancy of people today I am not, as the dictionary definition of elderly says, “past middle age”. That will come later. I hope.

Maybe I was just being overly sensitive: I am aging and don’t go to see quite as many rock bands as I used to (maybe two or three a month) and I don’t jog the length of Stanmore Bay as my father did at the same age. (I do still swim in the sea, did so today in fact).

But even as an elderly person I can get around pretty well unaided. I travel as often as I can and stay in uncomfortable lodgings or get into dangerously small aircraft.

My house has three flights of stairs and I don’t feel twinges going up, I don’t suffer from health issues of any kind, and my eyes are as good as they ever were.

My hearing is pretty acute for an elderly person too: I can still pick up bullshit.

Unemployed of Titirangi has an amusing story: “Last month my wife and I invited my boss and his partner over to dinner, and we went to a great deal of trouble over the meal because he and I hadn’t been hitting it off in the past year. We had a lovely evening although over dessert one of the nagging issues between us came up and conversation became a wee bit heated. But it all calmed down and I made coffee for them, which neither my wife and I drink. They seemed to take an awfully long time to drink it and were obviously uncomfortable about something, and they left shortly afterwards. Imagine our surprise and amusement when we realised later that instead of putting out the sugar for them I had put out the salt!”

Mary of Mt Eden: “Many, many years ago -- just after the war in fact -- my husband and I were driving down the East Coast of the North Island on a Christmas holiday which very lovely. One afternoon we rounded a corner to see a quaint old Maori man picking up a dead opossum off the roadside. We stopped and asked him what he was doing and he said he was taking it home for what he called ‘a feed‘. We all laughed at his silliness and natural sense of humour. But you know, ever since I have wondered if some of these people who complain about the prices in supermarkets hadn’t thought of finding their own food, just as this clever little coloured man was doing.”

And this from Dave who responds to a comment earlier in the week: “June should know that the sign she saw on the front the Pt Chevalier bus which read ‘Not in Service’ is very common these days and it is one that revolves. The first part reads ‘Sorry‘ -- so June need not be worried about declining standards of public politeness.”

Dancing with the Stars: Former Silver Fern, TV presenter, alopecia sufferer, happily married woman, and weight loss queen April Ieremia has taken her being bumped off Dancing With The Stars in good spirits. April has told friends that in many ways it was good thing as it would allow her to do “a quickstep” to a woman’s magazine and tell her inside story before any of the other contestants. Meanwhile Michael Laws is denying the rumours. “Not true, not a word,” he told Sideslap last night.

Roger asks why it is that helicopters are allowed to fly over Eden Park just before big games there: “Don’t these people take into account the effect on the carbon cycle that their actions are causing? The same goes for those who take buses, cars and taxis to the grounds. Shouldn’t the Rugby Union insist all patrons walk or cycle to the grounds, anything less is utterly irresponsible in these days of global warning.”

Dianne from Herald Island has a recipe for happiness in a marriage: “One cup of understanding, two cups of love, a splash of humour and season with forgiveness.”

News of Weird America: A man in Glaucoma, Florida was arrested yesterday when his pet alligator ate a neighbour’s poodle. A passing veterinarian saw the incident, shot the ‘gator with a tranquilliser gun he was carrying, quickly cut open the two-metre long animal, pulled out the poodle and returned it to its owner. The ‘gator’s owner was charged with failure to keep the animal under control. Unfortunately the poodle looked like chopped liver and its owner had a heart attack and died on the spot. The vet however has been hailed as hero and said to the local paper, “I’m glad everyone managed to see the funny side”.

It wasn’t the most unusual week I have had going to gigs -- that probably belongs to the time I came back from being in China with guitarist Grey Bartlett one morning, was at a skinhead punk band that night, a sitar concert the next and a classical concert on the following. But last week sure was strange.

On Wednesday I went to hear Tony Joe White (I say hear because there is never much to see with a man who sits down and plays guitar). Being the rock’n’roll kid that I am and used to the hour that bands go on at in this town, I had a leisurely dinner at home, a glass of wine, fed the website and so on, and then headed off to the Powerstation at 9.30.

I arrived at 9.40 to hear, “Thank you, good night”.

Looking at the capacity crowd -- a lot of well dressed middle-aged people -- I knew I had misjudged badly. Of course Tony Joe would go on early, and the Powerstation is now in the middle of apartments and townhouses so there was probably an early closing restriction.

Fortunately he did a looooong encore. TJW can’t sing these days -- off-key, suggestions of melodies at best in some places -- but the crowd was right behind him and clearly I had missed a great show. Obviously better than the last time I saw him when he bored me witless.

But even the encore -- meandering versions of Polk Salad Annie and Lake Placid Blues in which he clearly lost direction -- were incendiary. Promoter John Baker who had generously given me a ticket said that he liked to get his bands on early these days so he could go home or go out afterwards.

Thank you John, would more musicians consider that their audience might want to see them but also do the same.

Being a freelancer these days means my income fluctuates between barely passable and bugger all, so that counted out Magic Numbers the following night which I sorely regret. I loved them at the Big Day Out in ’05, and think their Difficult Second Album -- Those The Brokes -- is excellent, given a little time.

Instead we went to Winehot, our little local winebar just beyond Kingsland, and had a couple of fortifying glasses of red and the tasting platter for two which had the best lamb I have eaten in this city, Antoine’s not excepted. NIce chanson and low-level trip-hop being played also.

By trading some CDs for cash I had enough for us to go to Lloyd Cole at the Transmission Room on Friday, and now wary of what time he might start (Lloyd’s audience is 20 years on from his hit-making days so almost middle-aged) we had a quick bite at a godawful Japanese place in the MidCity Centre -- an arcade which looks like it is about to be gutted: upstairs there was rubbish everywhere, empty shops, and the escalator wasn’t working. What’s up with that place?

Anyway we got to Lloyd just in time to hear, “Good evening”.

I wasn’t an original Cole fan -- my wife remembers him more than I do -- but some years after the Rattlesnakes album I “discovered” him and have tuned in ever since. I really enjoyed his most recent album Anti-Depressant (a typically ironic Cole title) and so last week reposted that at Music FRom Elsewhere, and also the Deluxe Edition of Rattlesnakes which has an extra disc of absolutely terrific live tracks, demos and outtakes.

So there we were on time as Lloyd did his solo thing before a reverent and packed room, many people settled in with bottles of wine at the tables down the front. (Our timing was so perfect we were standing at the very back by the door.)

Two songs in -- as he was singing The Young Idealists, see I know my Cole -- I leaned over the Megan and whispered, “He’s David Brent”. She burst out laughing knowing exactly what I meant.

If you saw the (British) tele-series The Office you’ll doubtless remember bossman Brent getting out his guitar and doing Free Love on the Freelove Freeway, that thing about Lady Di and so on.

I’m sorry, but with all due respect to Lloyd and his fans, that is what he sounded like: I had no idea how precious and forced many of his lyrics are. They sound so much better wrapped in a band.

And there is not a lot of difference between Brent’s “racing down the freeway” and Lloyd’s “racing down the boulevard” imagery, just one more layer of pretension. Anyway that kind of spoiled the evening, we heard Brent everywhere in his songs.

And there was something wrong and unflattering about the way trousers bunched, right?

We lasted almost to the end -- the best stuff came after smoko and Lloyd was very witty noting that in some couples one of them would be there under duress -- but went home in fits of giggles and pulled out The Office (first series, episode four if I remember correctly). Another strange musical night.

Saturday was Bonnie Raitt. We‘d seen her last time so timed our arrival to miss the opening act (her excellent keyboard player is the built-in support and much as I admired him last time I didn‘t exactly enjoy it).

Anyway Bonnie -- as we fans know her -- was wonderful as usual: warm, passionate, very funny, an even more stunning singer than she was in her younger days, and sublime on guitar. It was a great night.

But two songs in a peculiar thought hit me: I have seen more Rutles than I have Beatles.

A few years ago I saw singer-songwriter and parody performer Neil Innes (the Lennon-Rutle Ron Nasty) at the Kings Arms, and Raitt’s drummer was Ricky Fataar, a former Beach Boy and Harrison-Rutle Stig O’Hara.

In fact I have seen these two Rutles twice and my only Beatle was Sir Paul McCartney once. Very odd, and the thought stuck with me even as Bonnie was being thrilling and moving.

But more odd was what happened when we were standing in the lobby afterwards chatting to some people. A middle-aged woman with a dark brown voice whom I had never seen before cruised up to me and without so much as a hello said in seductive manner, “I could make you VERY happy”.

By the time I had turned around, laughed self-consciously and said, “Really?” she had moved on leaving me bewildered, bemused and very embarrassed in front of my beautiful wife.

She sort of said “good evening” and “good night” in the same breath. This time I was there for both however.

Yes, it really was a strange week in music. Can’t wait to see what this one holds: certainly Richard Buckner at the Schooner on Tuesday in Auckland (Wednesday in Wellington I think), and Gomez at the Powerstation on Friday (I presume they playing elsewhere). Both are shows not to be missed in my book.

In that regard music from them and many, many others including lots of new releases, a contemporary classical composer and Daffy Duck is posted under Music From Elsewhere

Enjoy, we are only a few away from another milestone figure in the subscription base which means a swag of CDs for some lucky person who signs on (it's free).

And I always say to subscribers to say hello if they see me out and about -- and many do -- but please don’t say you could make me VERY happy.

At least not in front of my wife.

Last night we went to the performance by the Divine Performing Arts group, the touring company out of New York made up of Chinese-North American singers and dancers. There was a large audience at the Civic, and judging by the smiles on the faces of the predominantly Chinese attendees they enjoyed it as much as we did.

Now, I am sure some of the dances were about as traditional as Jesus Christ Superstar is faithful to scripture, but that’s hardly the point. This was a broad-brush concept show and among the seventysomething strong ensemble -- which has been on the road for four months and now goes to Korea, Taiwan and Canada before heading home -- there were some exceptional dancers . . . and costumes!

Gollygosh, no expense was spared on glitter and silk, and with a slideshow backdrop (someone said straight out of the old television show Monkey, but that seemed a wee bit unfair), acres of mascara, booming pre-recorded music, and two charming bi-lingual hosts who jibed with the audience and introduced the acts, it was fine and very interesting night out.

Okay it wasn’t Wagner -- or even Cats probably -- but some of the dances were beguilingly beautiful or athletically vigorous, and the highlight for me was the performance on erhu (a stringed instrument which is bowed).

I mention all this because you will probably not hear much about this show after the event, although you may have been aware of the controversy surrounding it.

The Divine Performing Arts ensemble has an overt pro-Falun Gong agenda and a few of the songs and acts directly referred to the oppression of this quasi-spiritual group in China.

The Chinese consulate here applied pressure - as is its habit when it comes to matters Falun Gong -- on local mayors not to attend, and it appears ads were cancelled in the Chinese Herald after consulate phonecalls.

According to what was published in the Herald yesterday the troupe’s publicist was somewhat disingenuous when she said that while some members of the ensemble were Falun Gong practitioners the show itself was not a Falun Gong production.

I have no idea how she might draw that fine distinction, especially in a performance which has songs which refer directly to Falun Dafa (as it is sometimes called), oppression in Tiananmen Square, and a dance piece in which a worshipper is bashed up and killed by guys in military uniforms (who really get theirs in the end, I can tell you).

It was pretty Falun Gong alright.

But that’s okay.

Godspell was pretty Christian, Mama Mia was pretty Abba, and Penumbra in the recent AK07 festival was pretty awful. But they are allowed to be, just as you are -- or should be -- allowed to go and make up your mind. Or not go.

What was disappointing is that on the night it seems -- from enquiries -- that only one of the seven Auckland mayors who received invitations chose to attend.

They are perfectly entitled not to attend of course: prior engagements, time with the family, Easter and “we’re going away” all seem reasonable excuses to me.

But the reported comments of North Shore City mayor George Wood give cause for concern, especially if you extrapolate that other mayors and dignitaries might have felt something similar.

According to the Herald he had previously accepted an invitation then, after being informed by the Chinese consulate of the Falun Gong connection, said he felt “uneasy about the whole thing”.

“I’ve got more to do than get into a situation where I’m going to be the meat in a sandwich,” he said.

Mr Wood also admitted he didn’t know what Falun Gong was (!?) and had never really understood the merits of either side of the argument, “but I realised attending wasn’t in my best interests”.

He added he felt he had been misled by the original invitation and was “not going to subject my wife to being harangued”.

A question: harangued by who exactly? Falun Gong people or the Chinese consulate office?

I have written about Falun Gong a couple of times -- notably a long article for the Listener -- and I don’t recall being harassed afterwards. (Although maybe I shouldn’t bother applying for a visa to visit China.)

But I am small fry and maybe if you are a mayor then you need to watch out for your people -- and their financial interests in China. But doesn’t even that suggestion sound a little . . . what? Loaded with menace?

We were away when Chinese journalist Nick Wang -- who insists he is not a Falun Gong practitioner -- was prevented from attending an event in Parliament. A Chinese official called in the Diplomatic Protection Squad and had him ousted from a thing where the Chinese vice-premier was going to be.

Perhaps the Chinese didn’t want a repeat of what happened on the White House lawn when journalist Wang Wenyi yelled at president Hu Jintao? Whether Wang would yell, or simply ask difficult questions, is beside the point. The guy is an accredited member of the Press Gallery and was entitled to be there.

Right up until the Chinese object, it seems.

These bully-boy tactics by the Chinese are so common now we take them for granted.

During AK07 there were a number of politically didactic works of art scattered around the city -- but I am unaware of off-shore governments suggesting strongly that local dignitaries should stay away or that there was any heavying curators. Imagine the kerfuffle among the artsy crowd if local reps of the American administration had objected to Australian George Gitteos film Soundtrack to War, or the Guatemalans had started ringing around objecting to Regina Jose Galindo’s work.

Why, all over the city wine glasses would have been thumped angrily on dinner tables in disgust.

But we seem to expect that when it comes to Falun Gong -- for which I have no particular passion, but can see why the Chinese might object to it in their midst -- or issues pertaining to Tibet, or indeed anything that the Chinese don’t much like, we will sort of roll over.

Yes, trade is very important.

But in our own country so is a fundamental right for Mrs Wood to be free of harassment (and you know it wasn‘t Falun Gong he was talking about). In the words of Peter Dunne the recent actions of the Chinese consulate are a “reprehensible intervention in our democratic way of life”.

By the way Mr Wood, you missed a good show. Your wife might have loved it. We did. Politics and all.

The ensemble is promising -- threatening? -- to come back next year. Plenty of time to do your homework Mr Wood.