“We need a new art that is almost sociopathic in its evasion, in its willingness not to be liked; a non-consensual art that refuses to market itself, that negates that old art world and free music chestnut about creating a space where dialogue can take place. At this point we need to shut down dialogue, halt conversation, put down the iPhone. We need a ruthlessly stratified, exclusionary, hermetic, refusenik art, one that takes its form and its content from the precise, awkward, barely translatable contours of the persons making it as opposed to a happy-clappy magpie approach to SoundCloud mixes, YouTube clips and rips of obscure vinyl. These days we are all fans … and music made by fans ends up uninteresting. Or at least unchallenging, and somehow subservient to our fandom. We need critics, too, who aren’t afraid to be unpopular, to be actually critical, and to write for the good of the culture rather than for the validation of their would-be friendship circle.
The future of underground music exists in the margins, in the one-offs. It’s time for lone voices, barely decipherable ones, in fact. The underground has disappeared but somewhere out there solitary cells are forming. Next time around, the revolution will not be liked, retweeted, favourited or followed back. In 2014 the underground is dead. Long live the underground.”
They aren’t underground by any stretch, but I feel like it would be somehow negligent of me not to note that The Band Perry played in the new Congress this afternoon.