A Very Raging Christmas – Crap Music Is Over, If You Want It

In a land far, far away, called Great Britain a yearly war wages every winter. In this magical Narnian Isle, music is still a viable commodity taken very seriously. Their denizens actually record new holiday songs every season in the hopes of having the top Christmas single of the year.

We cynics across the pond are fine to do with the recycled, rehashed songbooks – over the river and through the wood, decking the halls and all that. Why would you need MORE freaking Christmas? A trip outside for a few hours on Black Friday and we’re drowning in so much Christmas it’s enough to move to the Aboriginal outback.

But England doesn’t mess around. Music and Christmas are a very serious thing. I mean, they still have music programming on TV, AND the government pays for some of it. Can you imagine if our government gave PBS money to make old school MTV styled programming? I might actually still want to live here.

Yes, England gets downright fervent about music, specifically the ‘single’. Especially when it comes to the OZ like machinery of Simon Cowell and company, who pump out yearly soft rock balladeers with their contest shows like Pop Idol and X Factor.  Yes, we have our American Idol, but it pales in comparison to the juggernaut that X Factor brings to the UK every year.

I was treated to the wonders of X Factor this October when I was staying in London. I politely watched with some fervent friends over Sunday roast and found myself drawn in by a bigger, cattier, more sordid and maudlin type of idol where the judges mentor the contestants, take sides and cut each other down so furiously I’m surprised they’re not allowed swords onstage. I have to admit I did get a little hooked. OK, a lot. It wasn’t the music, which was mostly dreadful. It was the huge soppy spectacle of it.

X Factor Judges

But truly music is the loser in this scenario, if it’s nothing more than a soapbox stump for Rhianna or Janet to pimp their new album, in between green faced kids being forced to sing George Michael covers. The winner of this contest releases a single and that song, most likely, goes on to be the Christmas single winner, no doubt to be over played through out the holiday season and beyond, knocking struggling bands off the charts and out of our memories as the new year chimes in.

This year’s X Factor winner, pie eyed Joe McElderry is an 18 year old Geordie accented charmer with a lilting, soaring voice who is as sweet as a Disney cartoon heroine. Blech. They even chose for his first single, the Christmas single in question, to be ‘The Climb’, a Miley Cyrus cover. Jesus. Come on, England! Throw some tea overboard!

Well, Jon Morter for this revolting enough to do something.  Sick of the slick promotional big label machine and the ‘crap’ it pumps out, he decided to take a stand and protest by simply using social media. Jon made a Facebook page called RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE FOR CHRISTMAS NO.1. On the page he asked the fans to buy his favorite band’s 1994 single, Killing In The Name Of, instead of X Factor Joe McElderry’s new Cyrus single “The Climb”.

The kid, Joe McElderry, seems nice enough – benign in a musical theater, syrupy sweet kind of way. He wasn’t even my choice to win the thing – I would have gone with the song and dance man Olly Murs, if I were holding a UK green card, but there I go, tipping my hand as someone who has seen enough of the show to care.

The fact is, there has always been pop music that was put together in a board room. Girl groups formed in the offices of the Brill Building weren’t exactly an organic creative process but still some of the best songs ever sung.

So some pop music can’t be denied, even if the singer didn’t pen the song themselves…but the pervasive problem today, it seems, is the onslaught of boy bands and mall makeovers done on any kid with half a voice who are put on diet pills and thrust into the spot light like Three Octave Barbie.  In a month their CD, filled with tuneless drivel, is overstocked at Walmart and outselling the grassroots band that actually writes music.

If you throw money and PR at a turd, the public will spend money on it. Sheeple are Sheeple, as the D Mode song goes…and the loser is not only the smaller musician out there, but ultimately the music listening public.

Enter Rage Against The Machine. Now they were invited to the party, unbeknownst to them, not because they are a small unknown indie rock band. No, they are a huge successful act on Sony, the very same Goliath label that Cowell and McElderry call home. But RATM started from humble beginnings and won each of their hundreds of thousands of fans, one by one. Not from a television show contest, but by playing small gigs and then larger ones. By touring relentlessly. By making music. And yes, by being political loud mouths and standing up for the little guy.

In an interview with UK paper The Sun, RATM frontman Tom Morello stated: “It is a historic campaign to save the UK pop charts from the abyss of bland mediocrity and we’re 100 per cent behind it. It’s really amazing and completely a grassroots uprising. It’s not like the band put this forward, it was the people. I found out about it when some friends of mine from the UK texted me.”

As the race between the two tightened, things got more heated. And weirder. Cowell kept accusing Rage of being bullies. Then the Facebook page went down and suddenly thousands of fans were inexplicably lost. And of course there were rumblings that this was all just an underground ploy of Sony executives to drive up sales of both singles – a major payday for Sony either way.

However, to show that it wasn’t a Sony plot, Morello promised that the band would reunite and play a free concert for London fans if they were to win the number one spot. This earned him some scorn and harsh words from X Factor kingpin Simon Cowell, and fellow X Factor judge Cheryl Cole, a former member of all girl group Girls Aloud, who was Mc Elderry’s mentor on the show. Cheryl stated “If that song, or should I say campaign, by an American group is our Christmas Number 1, I’ll be gutted for Joe and our charts.”

Cheryl Cole and Joe McElderry on X Factor

Morello flattened Cowell and Cole’s jingoistic pleas for support of Geordie Joe.

“The X Factor song was written by a cabal of highly paid professional songwriters and was already made a hit by a pre-teen artists from the United States. That’s nothing I would feel too proud about hoisting the flag up on.”

“The X Factor suits have been pulling out every dirty trick in the book to get their single to No 1. They’ve been pressuring the big retail stores over the price of the single and there were some shenanigans that happened with the Facebook page where it went down mysteriously on the second day.

“Some of the things they are doing seem almost desperate and that’s because they’re afraid of the people.”

As the deadline neared for the tally, Joe was in the lead by a narrow margin. Tom Morello took to twitter and urged his online fans to download on itunes and help push Rage over the edge. They upped the ante by stating that they would be donating their proceeds from their Christmas single to charity. No Sony payout for the people who helped put Rage in the number one spot.

It looked as if Joe had the Xmas single sewed up, but in a Christmas miracle come from behind victory, the American revolutionaries toppled Cowell’s teen idol and took the number one spot. Davey had conquered Goliath!

Of course Cowell was ‘gutted’ for his protege, McElderry, but was gracious enough to concede the spot to a song with well over fifteen ‘fuck you’ s laden in the lyrics. Well done. Cowell supposedly even offered Jon Morter a job doing marketing for his music label, though that might just have been the PR equivalent of licking his wounds.

Whether or not you think that this contest of wills will actually change the stranglehold that Cowell and X Factor has on music, the fact is that this small group on Facebook has managed to raise 83,000 pounds (approximately $132,700) for the charity, Shelter, they’ve helped to break  two UK chart sales records…and it’s made music history and social media history.

It’s also an example that we do not have to sit idly by and listen to crap. Crap music is over, if you want it. If you don’t want it, turn it off. If you hate the television you keep seeing, turn it off. Or make your own. Vote with your dollar, your time and your energy. If you don’t like what is out there. DO NOT give it your time or energy. “I am listening to it cause it’s on” is no longer a viable option as we enter 2010 a supposed enlightened era. If you don’t like it, do something. If you can’t create an alternative, then at least turn it off.

When asked if they’d attempt to overthrow the Christmas No. 1 again next year, Jon and his team admit that it probably wouldn’t work again nor would they want it to. But they are most proud of the fact that they were able to motivate people to take a stand against mediocrity and change something in pop culture history.

On top of that, raising money for a good cause and making friends with their favorite band of all time…well that’s just part of the best Christmas gift ever.

Fifteen Will Get You Twenty – Space 15 Twenty Caters To Young Hipsters With Disposable Cash

As Hollywood leaves behind the years of dingy, depressed streets, tourist trap souvenir shops and head shops, it ushers in a shiny, plasticine veneer covering everything from revolving nightclubs which go out within a year, late night eateries and ‘museums’ tributing anything from show biz to lingerie…but something is missing.

Where can a hipster go to do some pre clubbing shopping? Where can they congregate to gossip about the ‘Cahuenga Boulevard boogie’?

The answer is Space 15 Twenty.

Nestled at the edge of Cahuenga between Sunset and Hollywood Boulevard, 15 Twenty is a hipster heaven. Currently the open air mall boasts an Urban Outfitters for the retro, ironic kids…

Urban Outfitters

…an A Life for the ballers, complete with a giant urinal…

piss off!

…What Comes Around Vintage for the posh spice kids who can spend a couple k on vintage couture…

What Comes Around Costs More The 2nd Time Around

…an art gallery for the erudite wine drinkers…

…an architect bookstore for the brainiac scenesters and a snack bar serving up ironic junk food one could find at any music festival, like pop corn, Izze and beer.

At the opening part last week, the Space had i Tunes darlings Chairlift play their warbling indie rock for a jaded crowd. Although a good smattering of people watched excitedly, for many it was more of an obstacle to their air kissing, gossiping and hair flipping.

NY indie rockers Chairlift play at 15 Twenty

While I must admit I did drool over some of the choice finds at What Comes Around, a vintage gaultier coat, several Alaia dresses and a slew of YSL and DVF…

absolutely fabulous

And I did quite like the high tech goth of Urban Outfitter’s annex store for Samantha Pleet…

Samantha Who?

I must admit that 15 Twenty did underwhelm.

gangsta garanimal

Perhaps it’s because the place is designed to capture the attention of kids who scoff at the faux punk of the commercial mall rat swathed in Hot Topic, but think nothing of conforming to the electro-nerd costume of American Apparel. Perhaps it was the jaded “been there, done that, bought the $500 dollar t shirt’ crowd. Or perhaps it’s just stores that cater to disaffected youth in a time when everyone SHOULD be affected by the monumentus current events, but something about this space left me cold…perhaps it was the crisp night air on a cold, LA, 65 degree night.

Hopefully things will warm up soon.

A Tale of Two Warm Up Shows: She Wants Revenge & Hot Hot Heat

One of the perks of living in a high priced, high stress, high-octane city like LA or New York is The Warm Up Show. Often limited to friends and uber fans, or kept a secret until the last minute, the warm up show allows a bigger act to play in a small intimate setting and perform new material or just get the lead out of their rusty performance. As the summer ramps up for the onslaught of music festival mania, warm up shows start popping up in unexected places.

Last Saturday I joined Mia and her posse to head over to the Swinghouse party. Swinghouse Recording Studios throws these events once in a while which allows people to come down, have a few drinks and a few laughs and watch the bands that record and practice there either showcase or warm up for a tour.

The nice thing about Phil’s Swinghouse bashes is that they’re like a house party. The downer is that they are like a house party…whose address was posted on Facebook. Call me jadey, but there were way too many brown lipsticked lookieloos who were pushing their way in to see the bands, and triple fisting the free cocktails…if we were going to rate them on a groupie scale, well they would be the ones who eat all the steak. Getting trampled while trying to get an interview is so not filed under fun. And for what, valley girls? If you’re five inches closer is he really gonna sleep with you? Sigh, one of the hazards of an embedded music journalist.

I plowed my way to the middle of a small recording room for Electric Touch, a band I interviewed at Coachella. Far from a warm up show, ET weren’t exactly ‘cooling down’, though this was the finale of their week of LA dates. Their energetic poppy set which included covers of American Girl and Come Together. Now, it’s a rite of passage for a band to cover the Beatles, but I’m surprised by all the bands I’ve met lately that site Tom Petty as a big influence. It’s like the kids are finally listening to rock again. It’s encouraging to me, especially now that LA is drowning in robot music…and impressive, considering Petty’s rather disappointing Superbowl half time show.

Electric Touch

As I sat on an amp and listened to Voxhaul Broadcast and Astra Heights, I spied Adam 12 making his way through the clammy crowd. She Wants Revenge practices at Swinghouse. And not only do they have a new EP about to drop on some very happy Suicide Girl heads, but they’re moments away from going out on the Nylon Tour. The secret guest revealed.

For a band that has over-inked girls with Sailor Moon haircuts losing their freaking minds, Adam is sweet and decidedly low key. His fedora belies his down to earth and thoughtful cadence. (No offense to a man who accessorizes – normally I applaud – but so many LA douche bags wear fedoras) It’s good to see Adam taking back the hat.

Anyhow, no matter how much Adam tried to find a quiet place to prep, the crowd seemed to swell his way.In fact, on a rather chilly night, the room was moist with the scent of humid human in the air. Sure, an intimate secret show is something many girls dream about, but if I get jostled and trampled by the Shes who want She Wants Revenge, then the music portion of the night becomes a casualty.

Adam 12 and She Wants Revenge

Mia and her lingerie modeling friend and I decided to slip out of the Soylent Green smelling studios and take off early. Not something I would have been caught dead doing in the past, but as a retired hipster, I often get home before last call. As we tried to exit, Mia’s friend took an exaggerated pause by the door and scanned the smokers in a last ditch effort. I noted to her that many of them couldn’t afford to take her for dinner, let alone pay for Plan B. She wrinkled her nose. For her, this warm up show was more like luke warm.

Speaking of Luke…I had been remiss in making it out to see Luke, play. He’d invited me several times but I work most nights (and days too). Now, I’m not an industry prick tease. So I don’t say I’ll show up and then flake. If I’m due to cover another show or I’m overwhelmed and exhausted, I say ‘I probably wont make it’ or ‘I’ll try but I don’t know if it’s gonna happen’.

Note: This is how all industry types should conduct themselves, no matter what industry they work in. I don’t want to get all miss rock n roll manners on your asses, but for fuck’s sake! If you say you’ll do something, do it. Don’t lie. Don’t flake. If you can’t or don’t want to, just excuse yourself from the event.

Why lie about it? It’s like the agent that used to promise to read my scripts just so he could try to cop a feel. We both knew that no matter how much of my c cups I let him juggle, he was never going to read past the title page. Damn, I probably would’ve let him juggle if he had just been honest.

Anyways, back to your regularly scheduled blog…

When Luke invited me to see his band Hot Hot Heat play at The Grove, I was willing to make the 45 minute drive to Anaheim. It’s a known truth that I don’t dance very often at clubs. Justice just doesn’t move me. But if you drop something from Make Up The Breakdown, I’ll be on the dance floor like a shot. But then Luke explained that it wasn’t the venue, The Grove in Anaheim. No. It was the Grove at Third and Fairfax. Hot Hot Heat was playing at a MALL. Yes, they’re poppy. Yes, Steve Bays is cute in a kitten way…but a MALL? That seems a purgatory reserved for the Ace Young idol rejects of the world, not a well to do indie rock band.

If you haven’t been to The Grove mall in Los Angeles, it can best be described as why Al Quaeda hates us. Not only does the mall feature a train trolley that gives rides to weary shoppers walking the 500 yard length of the mall, but in the middle of this Disney-Dali shopping experience, there is a six million dollar water fountain. Why did it cost six million dollars? I’m glad you asked. The fountain spurts water in time to the musak, which is a list of barely bearable songs like ‘That’s Amore’. Money well spent.

The Grove

When I arrived, I noticed that they had constructed a bit stage…right over the water fountain. Because when you’re sending enough volts of energy to power a rock band with lots of amps, the best place to ground the entire stage is in a pool of water. Is the Grove trying to kill off Canadians one by one?

Stage over troubled water

Surprisingly, the place wasn’t as much of a indie zoo as I thought. Though there were a lot of Gen-Wii, Forever 21 tweens buzzing with excitement. But a far cry form the tat queens at Swinghouse…though I couldn’t help thinking…were these little Hello Kitty Heat lovers the sweaty Swinghouse girls of tomorrow?

Finally, Luke sauntered out on stage with Dustin and Paul and Le Petit Prince himself, Steve Bays. Despite the crazy kiddie pool, the warm up show was relaxed and the guys looked like they were having a lot of fun. The aftermath of a mall show? Lots and lots of homemade cupcakes and hot pink and purple bags filled with fuzzy things piled in the green room. A nice juxtaposition to the rows of bottles of whisky and beer. Which made for much more colorful fun.

And at the end of the day, fun is what it’s supposed to be about. Los Angeles often treats music like a competitive sport, so it’s nice when a show is just a show. Ironing out the kinks, playing some songs and having fun…even if it is at a mall. With cupcakes.

Tis the season of the warm up show. Let the fun begin.

The Little Prince of Victoria

Luke on his way to rock out

Made In Canada: Hot Hot Heat at the Grove Mall

All Along The Watchtower

Luke and Wooly, a gift from a fan.

Paige has great jugs. Mine are a little lopsided.