If I Ever Feel Better

After 12 months, 7 or 8 rehearsals and 2 drummers, I think Nikki and my band might finally be going somewhere.  Not anywhere fast, mind, but somewhere.  Last weekend, we had a practice at our place where we nailed our first song (including art rock outro with melodica), got somewhere with our second song and even started on a few others.  We also have a stable 5-member line up.  As in the line up is stable - not necessarily the members themselves.

Our songwriting philosophy at the moment seems to be “write the title first and the song will come”.  This may not be a tried and tested method, but we don’t really have another.

We also have a tentative name - The Telephone Book Inspectors.  Music bloggers everywhere - pay attention.  You will certainly be the first person in the world to be in to us if you get in now.

After a lot of talk about Guitar Hero on this blog last year, I finally got to play it over the holidays.  It’s more addictive than I could have expected and I’m determined to hold off on getting it as long as possible so that I can continue to do other things with my life like hold down a job and a relationship and eat.

Since I posted about whether video games will kill the guitar star last year, it’s funny to read Steve Wells’ rant in The Guardian about how actual guitars need a redesign to be…well, more like Guitar Hero.  More buttons, fewer finger callouses.

Maybe the geniuses and inventors are already busy at reworking the guitar for a new generation.  Steve Jobs probably has a guitar that you play with a click-wheel in production as we speak.

I was listening to Morrissey’s “America Is Not The World” recently and laughing at his line about how “the President is never black, female or gay”.  I’m guessing Moz’s mind has already been blown.  Imagine what will happen when the Degeneres 2016 campaign kicks off?

What with the discovery of Guitar Praise last week and the released of Rock Band in Australia, I’ve been thinking far more about video games than any guy without a video game console of any kind should.  But it’s an interesting topic, so humour me.

When we were at the pub the other week, I was chatting to a guy about Guitar Hero and he made the interesting comment that he plays a lot less actual guitar ever since getting the game. I guess he’s getting all his guitar-playing kicks these days from pressing those little buttons in the right order.

What will this do for the future of rock and roll?  Where will our next generation of guitar-slingers come from if teenage boys don’t need to pick up a real six-string to feel like a rock god?  Why would you bother working out some big guitar solo on steel strings that hurt your fingers and take way too much effort when there’s a game that does it for you?  Won’t somebody think of the children?

I really wrestled with this question yesterday, because clearly I have nothing better to think about.  But then I realised…of course teenage boys will still learn to play guitar.  At least at this point in time, no one has ever formed a band and scored chicks using Guitar Hero.

I thought I was being clever the other week with my post about a Christian version of Rock Band.  Little did I know, it actually exists - and it’s called Guitar Praise.  I guess no one ever went broke underestimating the need for crap Christian versions of mainstream products.

According to the testimonials, the best thing about it is that your kids won’t go singing those pesky secular song lyrics.  All that careful homeschooling won’t go to waste!

They also have a Christian version of Dance Dance Revolution.  I am not going to link to it to protect you.

It’s been three times now that I’ve ventured out to Chatswood on a Friday night to join my friend Sally at the institution that is RSL karaoke.  I’m happy that it’s becoming a semi-regular part of my life.  Not only does it involve cheap drinks and the chance to get up and make a fool of myself, it’s a fascinating cross-section of society that goes there.

It’s a diverse crowd, to say the least.  There are uni students, bogans, suburban mums and people from all sorts of ethnic backgrounds.  There is also a large contingent of regulars that seem to have some intellectual disabilities.  And pretty much everyone has a go on the mic.

It’s the last group that is the most fascinating to watch.  Like the rest of the crowd, they’re divided between some amazing singers and some wretched ones - but they’re easily the most enthusiastic performers.  One guy has the voice of a young Elvis Presley and belts and croons out with impressive passion.  One guy has the voice of the Cookie Monster and can fill the dancefloor with his performance of “Yellow Submarine”.

What I like about it is that it’s a million miles removed from the mockery of TV talent shows like Idol.  No one is belittled or selected purely for the amusement of others.   Everyone is genuinely equal up on stage and we all get to be rock stars in our minds for a few minutes.

Last month, one of my musical heroes passed through my city and I didn’t go and see him play.  Part of that was because his recent music isn’t doing it for me like it used to.  The other part was a slight feeling of betrayal, one that just won’t leave me.

See, David Bazan (formerly of Pedro the Lion) meant something very special to me once upon a time.  It seemed like it was possible to be a serious, cool Christian guy, operating in the world of indie rock and being frank about your faith and your doubts.  I’m someone with a LOT of doubt, but strong beliefs as well - a contradiction and a tension that makes it a little difficult to fit in with either the believers or the unbelievers.   Pedro the Lion’s songs captured that feeling.

Now maybe I had him up on too high a pedestal, one Bazan would have been the first to tell me to get him right off.   I sang “Of Minor Prophets and Their Prostitute Wives” to a bible study (easier than preparing a study on Haggai, and catchier).  I quoted “The Secret of the Easy Yoke” in a sermon.  I loved his irreverence mixed with deep conviction.  He seemed to be like me, only cooler and more talented.  The only way from that kind of adulation is down.

But last year when I was in Seattle, I read an interview in the local indie rag where Bazan said he no longer considered himself a Christian.  He was an agnostic, probably.  It was serendipitous - I was in Seattle for one week only and the story wasn’t reported widely - and it broke my heart a little bit.  Clearly I’m not the only one who felt that way - Joel Hartse in the latest Patrol Magazine clearly went through all the same emotions.

For me, it was kind of like reading Tanya Levin’s journey into unbelief (blogged about here) last year, when I could see so many parallels with my own journey.  When you see yourself walking down the same path as someone and then you see the destination they reach, it seems like only a matter of time before you get there too.

At the same time, it hardens my resolve not to end up where they have.  It’s so easy to let your disillusionment win over, to let the shit you’ve seen distract you from the truth about Jesus.  I heard a Rob Bell talk earlier this year when advised people to “doubt your doubts” - to subject your anger and questioning to the same critical thinking you put your beliefs and passions through.  Because often they’re less well-grounded than the things you’ve held to all these years.  Often they don’t hold up to any kind of scrutiny.

I don’t know what’s happened to David Bazan.  I do know that I’m not him.  I’m a different David and I’ve got my own path to follow and I suspect I’m going to like where it takes me.

With any luck, tomorrow night I’ll be venturing out for some karaoke action.  Who would have thought that I would become such a fiend for the microphone?  Not I.

My first experience was at The Laundry’s “Extreme Karaoke” night back in my student days.  One night, well-liquored and over-confident, I stepped up to perform Pulp’s “Common People”. At the time I felt it went really well. Hindsight tells me that I was tuneless and encumbered by an appalling fake accent.  And I spilled my beer.

Second time was back at The Laundry and the song was Ash’s “Girl From Mars”.  Sadly, I couldn’t remember the lyrics or the tune and I didn’t even have the fuzzy distance of beer to delude myself.

I’ve never rated myself as a singer and these inauspcious beginnings made me think my rockstar ambitions might be better served as a guitarist.  Or a roadie.

But four years later, I found myself hiring a karaoke booth with a few friends.  We drank smuggled-in VBs and took turns on the machine.  Maybe it was the smaller group setting, maybe it was a fluke, but I sounded pretty good.  Sure, I failed to pull off Babylon Zoo’s “Spaceman”, but in fairness to me half the vocals are at double-speed.   You try it sometime.

Then in March I got my Bryan Adams on at a friend’s 30th with “Summer of ‘69″.  Not flawless and more enthusiasm than technical skill on display, but it went down a treat.

I think the secret is that I don’t care anymore that I’m not a brilliant singer.  I don’t hurt people’s ears and I have a good time doing it.  And for a chronic perfectionist, I think that’s a good place to be.

If there’s one thing that annoys me about the Emerging Church movement out of the States, it’s how many preachers and writers and bloggers crap on about U2.  Now I like late-80s-early-90s U2 quite a bit, but I’ve got to say their later output isn’t really up to that standard.  I suspect it’s simply that U2 are famous, so you know people will get your references, and because Bono is a Christian who says critical things about the church and goes on about poverty.  I’m not sure that’s enough to deserve all the praise.

There are a few other candidates for minor EC sainthood but each has problems - Sufjan Stevens is a bit too off-beat and still not that well known, Kanye has a tendency to say ludicrous things that piss everyone off.  So U2 it remains.

Andy and I have decided enough is enough.  As leading lights of the EC in Australia (cough), we’ve decided that Nick Cave will be our preferred musical poster boy.  He’s a local, he’s become a Christian while still singing songs that scare small children and their parents, and he’s completely impossible to get a proper handle on.  What more could we ask for?  So Saint Nick it is.

Oops - that’s already taken, isn’t it?

I just got back from the “second most boring city in Australia” as Caleb described it. I had a good weekend regardless.

The City of Churches was a church for two different religions this weekend - V8 Super Car racing and indie rock.  You can probably guess what I was there for.

The Laneway Festival played host to a bunch of amazing acts yesterday including Okkervil River, Feist, Gotye and Broken Social Scene.  Standing on your feet for twelve hours is exhausting and festivals aren’t always the best way to enjoy live music.  Take the rudely loud chatter going on during Feist and Gotye’s sets - most noticeable during their quieter, more emotive songs.   But there was plenty to enjoy about the whole experience.

And there are some cute girls in Adelaide - even if the average age of the crowd was probably about 19.