I’m just generally angry about the lack of respect in the music industry. In performers. In listeners. In general. I’m angry that some so called “musicians” in these trendy metalcore bands are all the rage. And you know, some of these musicians are tremendously talented and intelligent, and they may even desire to take a different approach to their music, but the vast majority of them follow this trend because they know it will put them in the spotlight. They know that their merchandise will be put up on Hot Topic’s wall as soon as you can say “sellout”. 

The other huge wave that has been devouring our bars and clubs in the last few years is indie folk pop. I actually enjoy a lot of these acts, but how many of them sound EXACTLY the same? 

And punk…I don’t proclaim to be an expert in this subject (i know how touchy you hardcore kids are) but I could go on for days about the new wave of punk and hardcore emerging above ground these days. And now with the reunion of Verse, Refused and At The Drive In, (and maybe I’m over-ambitious when I say this) the punk scene has potential like we haven’t seen since the genre was born in the early 80’s. I owe so much of my inspiration to bands that stem from this, but the fact that respect is near to non-existent in this community for other genre’s of music or bands in the SAME community makes me want nothing to do with this highbrow crowd. 

The punk kids hate the metal kids. The metal kids hate the punk kids. The folk-inspired hipsters who are hung up on these God damn bands that have predominantly tried to recreate the 60’s while fashionably representing the early 90’s snub and talk shit about everyone who isn’t like them. Fuck you. Oppress your feelings, pretend like anger isn’t an emotion that you were doomed with and keep your intellectual noses in the air under your thick rimmed glasses, spitting on anyone who has the nerve to admit that they really didn’t see that one band in that one basement before they were mentioned in that one magazine. By the way, your “subculture” is obviously not so alternative if half of your generation looks like you. 

I don’t get it. Where is the vision? Why are we still bowing down to unoriginal versions of the same band we’ve seen 467 times? I’m just angry and I won’t pretend that I’m above this. I’m not. We’re not.

And I’m still outraged by the gender issue. Just because I was blessed with a uterus does not mean that I can’t throw down. In fact, my estrogen gives me more fire than most of my male counterparts. My body was created to endure the pain of bearing another human being; I can handle myself. The fact that I am judged strictly because of my sex pushes me to work even harder to prove that maybe I am a maniac. 

The comparisions. THE COMPARISONS.

“You’re like Everytime I Die but with a chick!” Fuck you. We’re like Fine Fine Titans. Look, you may mean that as a compliment, and trust me, we love the music that band creates. However, I’m sure Everytime I Die would not appreciate the 12+ years they’ve spent evolving their sound to be used as an association to a band that’s only been together for a year and a half that actually doesn’t sound remotely like them. 

“Haley Williams” What? Really? A mainstream, pop-punk band with strictly clean vocals? I really adore her, but the only thing I have in common with Haley Williams is that we’re both chicks. WEIRD, RIGHT?! 

I get it. People tend to analyze music and correlate it to the sounds their ears have heard before. Vision also has a lot to do with this, unfortunately. We just LOVE to compare, contrast and criticize anything we think have a small knowledge base on. It’s human nature. I appreciate when people try to compliment us using identifiable bands, but I know the pendulum swings both ways. So seriously, stop comparing. Turn off that folder in your head that you’ve filed every band you’ve ever heard in and stay in the moment with us.

Sure, call me a hypocrite because I just said that a million bands sound the same and then yell “don’t you dare say we sound like this band!” It’s true. I’m a hypocrite, maybe. However, my goal is not to mimic the sound of other’s, so if it does, we’ve failed.

At least I’m trying. We’re trying. 

Metal Evolution: “Grunge” just reinstated my excitement for music. Yeah, it was 20 years ago, but have you heard the shit music that’s been out since then?! We (as in you and your band, my band and I) are on a mission and were going to use our influences, be it punk, hardcore, metal or grunge, to change the scene.

We are the problem with the music scene. Our pride has crushed the industry and we’ve done nothing to rebuild it.

I’ve only been intimately involved with Michigan’s local music scene for the last six years. Before 2006, I was merely a fan, hopping around south-east Michigan in my teen years to tiny acoustic shows held at youth group assemblies, international acts at larger-than-life arenas and scummy bar-basement hardcore shows downtown Detroit. From these extremes to everything in between, I watched every show with a heart pumping full of hope, excitement and passion. I remember never attending a show without an empty messenger bag, because undoubtedly, I would return home that night with a bag full of the performing artist’s CD’s, shirts, stickers, patches, posters - anything I could get my hands on to remember my time watching and hearing them. Afterwards, I plastered my walls, my books, my journals, my furniture and my clothes with band paraphernalia. I was a dedicated fan of music and these bands meant the world to me. I would cut photos from Alternative Press, Amp, Spin and Rolling Stone magazines and add those to my collection, because I knew that when I looked at these pictures, I’d be reminded why I loved music; why I wanted so badly to reach out to kids like they did for me. I carried CD booklets around with me so at any given moment when I was feeling down, distressed, furied or hopeful, I could pull out those books, find relatable lyrics, copy them down in my journal so I could let those songs speak for me. When I couldn’t describe my feelings to my friends, family or boyfriends, I shared with them a song that could explain exactly what I needed to convey.

I continued to attend these shows because watching these musicians tell their stories, so vulnerable on stage with blinding spot lights and countless burning eyes glued to them, inspired me to be a stronger person. They taught me to be comfortable in my skin. They showed me that it was okay to be honest and open and let emotions surface. In turn, I trusted these musicians with everything I had. I gave my heart to them. They had substance and displayed dignity and I would have done anything in my power to be like them. And so I would write to myself, sing to myself, and keep my dreams to myself until I finally found the courage to chase them.

In college, after years of makeshift “bands” that played covers for parties and performing in various ensembles, I knew that singing the lyrics other’s had written would not be enough and that I finally had the means to make my own mark. So I became very involved with the local scene and joined my first “real” band. It wasn’t until then that I learned the truth about what goes on in the studio, back stage, behind the scenes and underneath the scrutiny. My eyes were opened to the politics of the music industry and I was disheartened by the underlying stigma that came with the involvement. Until I became a part of an original, working band, I didn’t feel or see the lack of support that suddenly showed so blatantly in the eyes of my fellow musicians.

I never did understand the competition.

I never understood the trash talking from fans and musicians alike. It goes right back to the phrase we were told as children by our mother’s and our teacher’s to avoid bullying: “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

We don’t make art so that everything can look the same. We certainly don’t make music if we only want to hear that same alarm clock screech each morning. Variety is so important in music - it’s astounding how many musicians bag on other musicians because they simply don’t understand a different concept. It’s downright revolting when a musician dogs another for a growing craft - none of us escaped the womb playing seamless diatonic scales or singing seven octaves with perfect vibrato with a vast knowledge of music theory to boot. We all started somewhere. Wouldn’t it be more beneficial and gratifying to teach each other than to laugh and walk away? Thanks for nothing. You’re worthless.

Before I leap off my soap-box, the most important issue that threatens to tear from my throat is the lack of recognition and compassion. Fan’s appreciate a show; many musicians don’t. I haven’t met any musician that would openly admit to not giving two-shits about watching other bands perform, but my God, they exist. Self-loving, self-seeking “artists” who only make connections to further themselves and support their personal agenda. These folks have no regard to reviving a lost local scene or reaching out to other bands. Music is supposed to be a true release and reflection of us as people to bring us together. Yes, some musicians were tossed into the industry as young children before given the chance to appreciate the passion behind it, but the rest of us started as fans! And the truest sense of the word means that we loved music for what it was: an honest expression of emotions. So many of us have forgotten what it’s like to be a fan; to be that 15 year old kid in the crowd, watching the vocalist read our mind and scream our thoughts right back to us. We forget that once someone takes the stage, their skin disappears and their insides show, and in their vulnerability, they generously hand their hearts to us. As fans, we bask in the glory and the warmth. As musicians, we stomp and spit on it with no remorse.

And for what? We kill eachother’s hope for what?

All I know is that any musician that is too prideful or pompous to support another starving artist is no friend of mine.

©Jennifer Bartlett 2011

Those that haven’t been in a mosh pit, don’t understand a mosh pit. It’s not about violence, it’s about energy. A crowd that moves. A crowd that breathes. A crowd that feels and a crowd that believes.