After 17 years of professional music-reviewing, Noel Murray is taking time off from all new music, and is revisiting his record collection in alphabetical order, to take stock of what he's amassed, and consider what he still needs.
"welcome"
In a simpler world, music critics would hit the record store once a week just like everybody else, plunk their money down for what they think looks good, then write about it. But that's never been how it works. Every day critics open their mailboxes and find them full of CDs sent by publicists, and those publicists also send e-mails, and make phone calls, and do everything they can to convince critics to give their clients a little ink. Good critics still make an effort to get their hands on what they feel they need to hear—either by buying it or finding out who's repping it. (Although there's an old saying: If you have to ask who a band's publicist is, you're not supposed to know.) Nevertheless, I can't count the number of times someone's asked my opinion of a record and I've sheepishly said, "I haven't heard it. It wasn't sent to me."
These days, if something arrives in the mail from a publicist who hasn't heard about my hiatus, I place the CD into the box of discs I'm saving for the end of this project. But I trash the press kits; whereas before, I had stacks of bios and Xeroxed clippings cluttering up the house. Perhaps in some future week I'll write something about some of the particular annoyances related to the discs publicists send: the unwieldy packaging, the lack of a tracklist, the copy-protection, the unwanted "enhanced" features, and so on. I could also write a whole column about how bands and publicists fail to use the web effectively: by designing "arty" websites that deliver no useful information, by putting all their resources into the clunky MySpace, et cetera.
Today though, I want to talk about press kits, and the various none-too-effective gambits that publicists use to try and make their clients stand out from the pack:
1. The Defiant "We Can't Be Classified."
I know every young band likes to think that they're special little snowflakes, but as somebody who's heard a lot of those young bands, let me tell you: almost no one makes music in a vacuum. Everyone's got influences, even if it's something as basic as genre. Better to acknowledge those roots than to declare something like—and this is an actual quote from a press kit—"At a time when milkshake blenders, disguised as record labels, are diluting the musical landscape with homogenized vanilla waste, a bright light and cool sound has emerged to inspire our souls. One should not try to categorize The ______s for they are something that all art attempts to achieve: completely unique." Or, to translate: "Yes, this band doesn't know how to write a hook. That's because they're different."
2. The Uselessly Broad Description.
Almost worse than the band with no declared allegiance is the one with so many influences that there's no way to suss out how they might sound. Here's another actual quote: "_____ has many musical influences, from early favorites such as Peter Gabriel, Graham Parker, U2, David Bowie, Elvis Costello, John Lennon and Petula Clark to the more recent brilliance of Alanis Morissette, Pearl Jam, Live, Soundgarden, Goo Goo Dolls and Fastball." Or sometimes the bio skips the influence-listing and just describes the music in equally vague terms: "All three songs on this EP are based on acoustic guitar as the template which deep soft vocals, harmonies, percussion, drums, bass and tasty lead tracks are built upon. The lyrical content of these songs contain rather deep (but not cryptic) subject matter provoking emotions derived from experience and personal growth." In other words: "This band plays music."
A lot of bios try to combine the "uselessly broad" and the "defiant." For example: "The melodies wear themselves down until they're subtle enough to reach in deep and stay for longer (yet lower) that some radio hit's hook. The lyrics do their best to keep up and re-define themselves as their own language. Call it rock, pop, folk, alternative or some hyphenated mix of them all—I couldn't correct you if I wanted to."
3. The Tenuous Industry Connection.
Lines like these are all-too-common in bios: "Inspired by brainstorming with Foreigner and Bad Company keyboardist Larry Oakes, ______ went to London to explore the musical dynamics of the rock scene. After generating interest from a CBS-affiliated record label, he began writing with a former session guitarist." The idea here is for the artist to make himself look like a player by mentioning that he's hung out with players. Instead, most often, the name-droppers end up sounding desperate, and a little deceptive. (A "CBS-affiliated" label? "Generating interest?" C'mon.) But at least that anonymous rocker can (probably) claim the unbidden endorsement of a veteran. The bios that bemuse me most are the ones that point out that the new record was produced by the former bassist for The Little River Band, or that the singer trained with Aerosmith's vocal coach. Which only means that those dudes had a fee, and these other dudes met it.
4. The Misleading Stat.
Once upon a time it was garageband.com (and whatever the hell its chief rival was called… I've been going crazy trying to remember its name), and nowadays it's MySpace. Whatever the DIY online music/networking service, some band's publicist will cite its figures as proof of their client's popularity. "Most downloaded song for the week of May 8th in the 'pop-punk' category!" Or, equally lame, "Three music videos which aired in heavy rotation on several rock video television programs on Manhattan Cable!"
5. The Big Joke.
Some smartasses think they're doing the weary reviewer a favor by making light of the whole press kit process. They write fake bios. Or they act ridiculously self-deprecating. Or they make fun of other bands. They do everything except the one thing that actually would endear them to weary reviewers: give us useful information.
6. The Book.
To some extent, you can measure the importance of artists by the size of their press kit. On the rare occasions when I receive an advance copy of a major label CD, typically it comes with a single sheet of paper, on which is included the release date, a list of the personnel involved with recording the album, and a few tightly written, professional-sounding paragraphs about the thought process behind some of the new songs. Indie artists tend to go longer, stapling together 20-odd pages of press clippings with reviews from every local rag that ever gave the band any ink. Unsigned artists go even bigger, putting together over 30 annoyingly un-stapled pages (usually in color) into a glossy folder, along with bumper stickers and a hand-written note.
For a brief time early in my no-more-day-job/full-time-freelancing career, I took an assignment that had me sorting through a box of 60 or so self-released CDs every two months, looking for the best 12 to write up for a magazine column. I looked through a lot of those overstuffed press kits, and a lot of glossy photos of some too-serious-looking guy with a guitar. None of them ever made me feel more inclined to take the artist in question more seriously. Mostly they made me wonder if there mightn't be some better use for their money. Like maybe a high-yield mutual fund.
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Pieces Of The Puzzle
Duran Duran
Years Of Operation 1978-present
Fits Between Roxy Music and Bay City Rollers
Personal Correspondence Blame it on Nagel. Almost more than the music, my 12-year-old self was captivated by Duran Duran's peripherals. My family didn't have MTV or a VCR back in the early '80s, so between my friends' descriptions of the "Girls On Film" video and my surreptitious perusal of a Patrick Nagel art book at the mall—oh, so many fashionable nudes—I tended to equate Duran Duran with sex, a subject I was very much interested in at 12. (The fact that nearly every teenage girl in my junior high was in love with Duran Duran only solidified the association.) Rio, with its Nagel-girl on the cover, was part of my initial "10 albums for a penny" order from the Columbia Record & Tape Club, and though a lot about the album struck me as cheesy even then—like the bathetic lyrics, and Simon Le Bon's drippy voice—I understood that the band was basically selling a fantasy world of yacht clubs and exaggerated romantic distress, and as a Miami Vice fan, I was willing to buy in. Nevertheless, one of my first-ever musical disappointments was Duran Duran-related. I used some of my Christmas money to buy Seven And The Ragged Tiger from the neighborhood Wal-Mart, and aside from "The Reflex," that record suuuuuucked. Not only that, but the sound of Ragged Tiger—all electronic bombast and random remix effects—signaled a turning point for '80s radio. The mainstream had one really good year left—the wondrous 1984—before everyone followed Duran Duran into the "Union Of The Snake."
Enduring presence? Even though they haven't put out a listenable album since Rio, Duran Duran perseveres, reuniting for new records and tours every few years. How nice for my generation: we have our own Steve Miller Band.
"My Own Way (Night Version)" by Duran Duran
Dusty Springfield
Years Of Operation 1963-95
Fits Between Dionne Warwick and Carole King
Personal Correspondence As an actual son of a preacher man, I've always had a soft spot for Springfield's recording of "Son Of A Preacher Man," even though I first heard the song performed by one of my all-time favorite bands: the Atlanta-based roots-pop combo The Jody Grind (who also covered Springfield's "Wishin' And Hopin'.") It's hard to pinpoint the appeal of Dusty Springfield. She has a technically great voice, imbued with emotion, yet there's something a little clinical about her too. That quaver never strains too far; that breathy whisper never breaks. If I had a choice between seeing Dusty Springfield or Janis Joplin live, I wouldn't hesitate to buy a ticket for Joplin. But as a recording artist, Springfield's my gal.
Enduring presence? You've all got Dusty In Memphis already, right? If not, buy it now. "Windmills Of My Mind" aside, that's one of the most perfect pop albums ever recorded.
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