[sic] Magazine

The [sic] debate:_ Are all musicians twats?

Are all musicians twats?

They strut around wearing penis-shrinkingly skinny jeans, stylishly hideous hairstyles and feminine vest tees all topped with an egocentric, self-worshipping and simultaneously condescending attitude. They’re better than you, they’re cooler than you, they’re more talented than you and they know it. They could steal your girl in an instant, take her backstage, discuss the Punk movement and fuck her brains out while you watch…probably shouting their own name during ejaculation. And they’d have every right to. They are above the social norms, above the law, above dress codes and most importantly, they are above you. Bow before them, kiss the sticky stadium ground they walk on, pray for unachievable worthiness from they, those we must all aspire to be like: musicians.

Is any of the above true? Giving exception to the part about shouting one’s own name during ejaculation, no: musicians are not God incarnate. So why the hell are we all treating them as though they are? Little more than a week ago I attended a gig where, during a song, I was shushed…not by an audience member, but by the band. Yes, that’s right I (and the whole audience) was “shushed” so we could “listen to the lyrics” …??
At a gig.
The audience were shushed.
By the band.
And like the schmucks we were we took it. We just stood there and complied with their wishes. We clammed up so that some bloke with a beard, Jack Kerouac reincarnated no doubt, could express his bands revolutionary vision through song. Big deal! There are nine homeless people doing that on my street alone, no one listens to them. Because they aren’t “musicians” and it doesn’t go with the territory.

What elevates these people so much above us? How did they achieve this infinite level of “coolosity”? I’ll tell you how: we let it happen. Us. The audience. It’s our fault. It’s our fault there are so many bands, it’s our fault there are so many guitarists sailing through a wash of myspace-adorned praise. We screamed for Sinatra, we exclaimed for Elvis, we let music get out of control and it became, to quote Lester Bangs, “An industry of cool.”

This brings me to my next point: the press. On any televisual biopic of any band regardless of size or prestige, journalists are welcomed with insolent comments regarding their mistreatment of the God-like musicians at hand. Accused of being “overly critical” and often invasive, the music press is deemed by rockers of all calibres as “pointless”. In all truth, we need the music press and now more than ever. Things have gone too far as it is. Glorified rock stars that you might find swaggering along at Night and Day Cafe or elsewhere in the northern quarter, under the false impression that they are on ‘another level’ need to be brought down a peg or two. The consistently gushy attitude of the modern music press has now led mid-level groups to believe they can openly attack bad reviews via the internet. Unfailing, unworthy praise has birthed a generation of teenagers beginning bands simply so they can “be in a band” rather than for a desire to write and perform music. It’s the clichéd “chicks dig musicians” approach. It’s amateurish and it won’t get you laid.

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How can we fix this? Simply stop worshipping them. It’s the music you love isn’t it? Bear that in mind before rushing up to meet them backstage or trawling half way across the country just to see them. Fans have lost sight of what’s really important here, and that’s the music. Isn’t that where it all began? Music? There are enough hipsters and art students in the world without adding the elevated egotism of musicians into the mix.
Of course, I over exaggerate. Not all musicians are twats, just most of them. There are maybe five or six who aren’t and that’s not including classical musicians who in my experience have been genuinely humble and friendly while concurrently outweighing most “pop” musicians in talent. They say you can’t measure talent, especially not across a broad array of genres. It’s false, you can and as much as I enjoy glamorous indie rock and roll, there’s a difference between ‘Yolanda Be Cool’ and say ‘Paganini’s Caprice no.4’-wouldn’t you agree? Another sad factor is just how deluded these hipster Gods really are. They maintain the ability to strut around the stage in a Mick Jagger-esque fashion…but they’re not Mick Jagger. They never have been Mick Jagger and they never will be Mick Jagger. In fact, in my experience it tends to be the more humble fellas who are the most successful all in all. Bottom line: save the swagger for the stage, act like a human being when you dismount.

Sincere condolences to any musicians reading this, formally unaware of their self-centred flaws. Don’t feel bad, most writers are twats too…but we at least have the decency to be bad looking. If you are a musician and have been affected by the content of this article we, at magazine headquarters, suggest you try channelling your fury into art. Maybe an angry song directed at us will suffice?

Of course, we will have to shush you part way through so you can listen to the audience.