Let’s talk about music.
More importantly, let’s talk about musicians. Serious musicians. Not musicians who are serious about their art, but musicians that take themselves too seriously. You know these bands and artists. They don’t crack a smile on stage or in publicity photos. They think they’re re-inventing the wheel (or creating a new genre). They think that Chuck Berry didn’t do it all first.
These artists have been bothering me for a while, but I couldn’t think of a concrete example until I saw New York’s Interpol on Friday night. They are the perfect example of a band that take themselves far too seriously. Before they hit the stage, I thought perhaps Kraftwerk were going to play, based on the lighting, stage set up and double keyboard stand. They entered the converted movie-theatre stage with dim lights and sported 40’s era suits. The bassist (Carlos D.) was smoking (which he continued to do throughout the night) and frontman Paul Banks appeared as though he had removed half his suit, with tie askew and hair tousled. The look felt so contrived that I couldn’t take them seriously and not a chord had been played. But at least Carlos has gotten rid of that horrible haircut (and replaced it with a “dignified euro moustache,” as my friend Rob put it).
Hopefully, this next little bit doesn’t make me come off as a novice, but I assure you my credentials as “music junkie” are valid. I own over 800 CDs and 200 records. I don’t download music. I have been to well over 100 concerts and dozens of local shows in the past 12 years. Not bragging, just stating my credentials. That being said, going into the Interpol show I’ll admit I only knew one song (“Slow Hands” from 2004’s Antics). But my problem was that I kept thinking that the one song was all of the songs. I then realized that the musicianship of this band did not match the level of pretension they were exuding. Their songs were so basic and similar that it almost made me sick. Also, it literally took five songs before one of the three “thank you very much” inserts were spoken by Banks. Charles Thompson (aka Frank Black Francis) is a man of few words, and he gave me much more banter than this kid. Not only did it seem the band did not appreciate its audience (this particular show sold out faster than all other dates on the tour) but I don’t believe that they are even that fond of each other. They had no on stage interaction whatsoever. At one point (to my shock) Daniel Kessler (guitar) came towards Banks and they played to each other for a total of three seconds.
I’ll admit I wanted to like this band. But it was difficult when they didn’t want to talk to their audience, each other, or the media. That’s right, Interpol weren’t allowing any media in the door. There was also a sign warning us that if we attempted to photograph their pretty boy good looks, that our shutterbug asses would have our precious image capturing devices confiscated. Perhaps Interpol are afraid that cameras will steal their souls? Maybe that is what happened at their self-indulgent Spin Magazine shoot a few years ago.
I think that when I make the trek to Chicago this August Long for Lollapalooza, I will “miss” the Interpol show. I will most likely give my time to bands that want to be there (for Pearl Jam it’s their only 2007 date and a hometown show for Eddie) or that are allowed to be pretentious assholes (Modest Mouse with Johnny Freakin’ Marr). Besides, I liked Interpol better when I saw them a year ago. When they were The Strokes.
See you in the next reel…
Nicholas Friesen is a filmmaker, radio personality and cookie enthusiast.
For more information check out these links:
http://www.myspace.com/interpol
