Being an aspiring music journalist is hard work – well, it should be hard work. It’s a lot of hard work for not a lot of dough. Perhaps, very little, if any at all. I’ve not seen much of it myself and, at home, I’m completely swamped by very attractive promo CDs. A large number of those CDs are intriguing records; records filled with sincere emotions and affable, characteristic production. And yet, in six weeks or so, I have yet to write a full review. Sure, I did a brief album round up but that was barely scratching the surface. I fear that I have fallen out of love with music. Perhaps I fear unnecessarily; perhaps I’m just incredibly lazy; or maybe I’ve just found other things that spark my interest.
Music journalism is a highly competitive business: saturated with opinion, sodden with pompous verbosity and driven by youthful ambition. I’ve had enough of competing. I don’t need my voice to be heard amongst the myriad others clamouring for their new favourite band or artist. I miss hearing about the bands / artists I have cared about for some time. Something similar happened a couple of years ago. I’d been writing solidly for about a year, and then I got to the point where I realised I didn’t care about any of the records I’d written about. The very nature of music criticism demands a high, constant intake of ‘new’ music and with hundreds of releases every month, that’s a lot to keep up with. For me, I like to spend time with an album. After all, a great deal of effort has gone into the writing, recording and releasing of it – so each record deserves some respect.
But, as I get older, I realise there are massive gaps in my knowledge – musical and otherwise – and I’m keen to explore them. I used to surround myself with music when I was younger and though I still do, I can’t help but feel that I am neglecting other aspects of my character that require attention.
I honestly feel let down by a lot of new music. I feel let down by things like the digital economy bill, the charts, the NME – all popular music. Digging into the underground is fun and it’s accessible. So why don’t more people do that? Because they’re lazy and uncaring? Maybe. Or maybe it’s because that’s all that mainstream media allow to ever reach the general public’s ears. How much influence does an unpaid music journalist, or blogger, or podcaster, or film-maker etc. actually have? Why do they feel the need to express themselves utilising that specific medium? Is it fame? A desire for financial gain?
I find myself reflecting on why I even started this site in the first place and remember that I sold it to myself as an ‘online CV’. To whom? I haven’t got experience at the NME; I’ve never worked on broadsheet papers; I haven’t got a journalism degree. This was never my aim. I just wanted a space to shout about whatever I wanted on the internet to whoever cared to read. In other words, to just be another voice amongst millions clamouring for attention.
Though it’s been a cathartic experience, I’ve had other experiences lately that have brought this writing business into focus. No, it’s blurred the writing. Or is it focus? I can’t tell. Whatever it is, I know I’ll write out a review or two here and there, but I cannot commit as much time to writing about a band someone might care about for a week before moving on to their next ‘life-changing’ band. ‘Our band could be your life’: is that true these days? Where’s the passion? Where’s the commitment from the record label? Where’s the audience loyalty?
Music is disposable. Music has been squashed by corporations so focused on profit that generic music barely means anything to anyone any more. Yet there are still people that care ; still people that buy records; still people that listen to an album the whole way through; still people that have not had their ears ruined by the ringing of a billion cash registers – and it is for those people that I intend to continue writing for.