Bloody Musical Geniuses
An interesting day of work for me…
Picked up a story from Beat covering Rock For The Roses, a benefit gig for Cystic Fibrosis sufferers in Melbourne… it’s been two days of waiting for interviews to happen… and I mean literal waiting by the computer… only to have a Tex Perkins interview fail to materialise… and then the alternative (Angry Anderson) not happen either…
So this morning, I get to speak to some mid-teen girl singer and if she’s not exactly clueless, she’s got no fucking idea how to go about getting good press… if she was at all excited by being interviewed (and most people are until they’re obliged to do them), it stopped her from speaking unless spoken to… this is not really bitching — that happens when I have to talk to some talentless lackwit who is only too eager to talk about how brilliant what they’re doing is… but I began the morning pulling teeth before I even got to finish my first cup of coffee. And that makes me unpleasant. But not to her, thankfully.
A much better interview followed with a guy called Jerome Smith, who has played bass for the likes of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards (separately) and more… he was great to talk to, on top of which, knew quite a bit about Cystic Fibrosis, as his wife has organised the benefit, inspired by her young niece, who is a CF sufferer.
We had a bit of natter about the loose usage of the word ‘genius’ in the musical arena, which is still on my mind as I listen to Sarah Blasko‘s great new album, The Overture & The Underscore. And it really is a great fucking piece of work… and I just know some music journo fuckwit is going to call it genius.
So, music journalists of the world, hear me.
DON’T FEED THE ANIMALS.
Don’t call them geniuses — maybe they are, probably they’re not. And what’s worse, sometimes they believe you, and that’s when they become completely unbearable… not mentioning any names.
Off to Tasmania for a week, so the chances of me posting are slim until later this month…