Within the interconnected outposts of various magazines there is a deeply entrenched disdain for the middle classes. These music magazines barely conceal their prurient disgust by attempting to out do the reader by creating the impression that however much you know, they know more…how ever much you have felt…they felt it first and consequently that these writers are privy to a deeper understanding of culture, a deeper and more exclusive/ elusive form of knowledge that comes from immersing themselves in their pursuit of data, pleasure and experience in an attempt to vacate the vestiges of their bland suburban up-bringings and push everyone else down with it. I can no longer read Plan B, because I feel I am the writers object of contempt. With my upbringing I am the perfect target, but not only that, I am hopelessly un-successful. I work on my music tirelessly and I fully believe that I need to release myself from opinions and mediation. It is time to read novels, comics, draw, write, feel. Every time I pick up Plan B or The Wire I feel fat, inadequate, irrelevant, unhip, and unimportant. Right now my music and those on my label is available to every computer in the world right NOW. I need to go with my work and write music ‘for Dave’ as a dear friend recently said. I need to analyse my business plan and work out how it can become a cultural plan. A template for people to engage with the music directly without worrying whether reviewers will ever write about it, distributors ever sell it or people ever buy it. I think that I have already made it, the world just doesn’t know it yet.
Posted on Wednesday, 13 May 2009
