but, like, what genre is it?

bruise rock (Pretty Blue Guns, The Uncut, the black keys)
mielie pop (erm. haven't thought of a local one yet - you try)
tot rock (prime circle, parlotones)

tbc...

24 seconds

We’re sitting in the lounge. I put on a song – a favourite of mine. Subtle, sometimes, then powerful. Its intro is a triple of single electric strings backed by a blended bass line. Then vocals, clear and hollow, and instantly it’s “no!” from a friend, “no, no, no.”

“What, nie Afrikaans nie?” I ask, realising this is not about the song.

“NIE.” She replies without looking up. But she doesn’t know the track, the band, the genre, or my taste in music. She’s been enjoying some of the other selections so far.

It makes me wonder about the power of our fathers’ prejudice and how it can get in the way of our joy.

The next day. The other side of the coin. Sitting in the office this time. My colleague presses play and sings along. It's Mr. Cat & The Jackal. Mr. Cat & The Jackal is white, Afrikaans and male; my colleague is not.

It makes me hope that we've learnt something from our brothers.

Rock Paper Scissors - Fly Paper Jet

Out of respect for the medium, I don’t often listen to a local band’s recordings before I’ve heard them live. That’s one of the beauties of this scene, after all –you can have it proud, loud, and in the flesh.

But Fly Paper Jet’s facebook flyer for this week’s gig boasts recent conquests like sell-out shows in Grahamstown. That’s quite an achievement; considering the fest’s excesses make “sold out” a rare term on the prolific fringe and centre stages and one more appropriate to highly talented musicians being thrown together randomly in a state of unnatural selection (it worked, naturally. Big up to the sponsors). In addition to this sort of claim, the name Fly Paper Jet is one we don’t hear a lot in the land of bums on the barstool. In addition, their very pretty pictures whisper integral professionalism instead of slick, pretentious marketing. Even one of the godpapa’s of the scene from Mabu Vinyl says they bring something new to the Table. So I listened to Let’s Go Back To The Carnival on CD. Jissis, it’s naas.

Compositely, it’s easy listening, easy dancing, easy everything and no, you won’t be able to make a doubly-bubbly-barrelled, mishmashed title-splicing genrelisation about them – they defy genre because they know real music is more about intuitive choices than sticking to a style. They can be described, though. Take a tingle of acoustic guitars embodied by modest electric, a smattering of spoken word against the rhythm, and add sensitive sprinkles of digital bliss. It’s all ground up by a groove underscored with lilting vocals. It has lots of space. Open expanses of it. And delicate melodies. And upbeat bass lines. And finger-tapping, foot-licking (I mean.) frequencies that’ll reorder your SAD (Seasonal affect Disorder –which is not another word for coldplay). You can tell the Jets are married to music – their phrasing is select, and they can match a mood shift with the right riffs. They don’t just visit genres for effect or borrow from them like desperately degenerate country cousins; there’s a reason they’re called Jets . They fly through funk, pop rock and country like they were brought up on it and it gave them good memories.

Were they? Well, pop down to Albert Hall Thursday night (23 Aug) at nine pm sharp and ask them. Josh and Lance will be armed with two guitars and two voices - a new take on the album tracks. Yes, 9pm - this is not another of those ‘the cooler we are, the later we play’ bands which actually means ‘the cooler we think we are, the drunker you have to be to listen to us’ - this is principled professionalism.) don’t know where it is? let the Goo show you!

I bet they listened to:
Simon and Garfunkel
Arcade Fire
(early) Crimson King
The Cat Empire
Death Cab For Cutie

(and if they didn’t, you now know that I do!)(sometimes)

one day they should listen to:
Abstract Truth (and so should you)(sometime soon) (ask Andrew)

(photos courtesy of Fly Paper Jet’s online gallery)

ya, wena, matisyahu!

Will the disaffected Jewish youth lap up the irony at Matisyahu’s upcoming Cape Town gig? Will the mainstream be mainlining old school wisdoms or will they diss it as dogma? Will discerning music lovers indulge in some unholy explorations into religious sound? (it could be suggested that choral singing bequeathed R&B its roots, and blues its bottom lines...)

These are common questions concerning the Matisyahu phenomenon, not least because he makes no bones about believing in dog. I mean god. In a postmod world where moral malleability is a survival tool and dosh is a deity, his inexorable fundamentalism is a refreshing turnaround to encultured global apathy. Maybe that’s the turn-on. I believe (yes, I do! but its subject to change. and sincere bouts of doubt) that Matisyahu is so famous because the world fired god after creating him, and Matisyahu has one of the last functioning contracts. (for what it's worth. faith versus finance has become tricky since religion went out of business. ) I’m not saying that the man is a (false?) Messiah, but it’s less a case of a rock n roll stoner making his home where his hat is than it is a case of an unmovable rock stoned on faithful ecstasy. (erm. It’s cheaper, too)

The fact of the matter is that his music sounds good to Jews and gentiles alike. And it’s not like words have the last say when it comes to music’s appeal; in the ratio of sound to sentiment, sound holds more weight, and more water. Even holy water. the Torah touting Matisyahu has taken the shores of the liberal west coast by storm (pardon the pun, we know they’ve suffered enough from global warming's sideswipe cyclones and whatnot) with his orthodox rhetoric delivered by the book, as it were. And the good news is spreading. He’s a growing phenomena in NY, and now Europe. (And you know, the Japanese will possibly love him. Once they get over his funny hairstyle). He’s the arc angel of arch traditionalism where bin ladin is its fallen angel. Funnily enough they quite resemble each other. In all but costume…but cousins will war. Till death brings its peace...

You better behave if you go, though. The clapping, singing dancing congregation are likely to throw stones if you backslide…

Take a leaf out of the good book and give him a good looking into. If Matisyahu's Yiddish yodelling yields no yahoo from you, it’s comforting to remember that while immunity offers a certain stasis and state of grace, impunity belongs only to the godless.

Now which is worse – being godless, or being motherless? I’m inclined to let the whiskey answer….it seems to be one of life's best lubricants...

conFusion III

and on a further note

indie, in its current status, might just as well be called Windy for all the good it does in embodying the spirit of the independent. Indie used to mean different, edgy, emotional. because freedom rocks. now anything can be Indie, and everything is. Even if its signed on to a major record label.

i'm like, "hello!" that's as bad as emo stemming from 'emotional' and translating into 'melodramatic'...

where's the purity?

conFusion

it's becoming clear, as we near
2010 (which is irrelevant, except that the one half is twice the other)

that most music being made is some kind of fusion. alright. it's the next generation of audio evolution. but. we are still stuck in the naming and owning epoch. you know, that one where science rose up as the beast of all access (they conveniently forgot to point out that all scientific theory is, uh. theory. We're just lucky that some of that theory works. for now. though if the petrol price keeps rising and carbon emissions keep migrating for aMOREica, they'll need new ones fast or we'll fast be done in and poorly so). erm. so my point is that we're still compelled to name things, and genres are spared no mercy.

i'm guilty of it too. and i'm sorry, i'm on my knees, and upto my gills in alt-Pop-Metal-Rock fusion . and it just won't do anymore.

the idea that there are traditional schools of sound might be true in some senses, but in a passage of time, it is so very relative. once we had Pop, Rock, Jazz, and Classical. life was simple. or so they say. i was small. i can't remember. then Indy-Pop, Pop-Rock, and Rock-Jazz fusions came along. music morphed. Now everyone is mixing their metaphors with their music, and the proliferation is almost impossible to classify.

good! so let's stop pointing at and pointing to, and start clapping. what's in a name?

a successful Pop-Country singer-songwriter, (izzie aussie or yanki? and does it matter?>), Keith Urban, said something quite clever. He said, at the end of the day, it all boils down to whether or not you like it.

remember that.