Portrait Of The Sleep Deprived

Article informing everyone that Paramore actually care about music.

yelyahwilliams:

This, my friends, is what’s wrong with the music business. It’s not that I don’t shoot whipped cream out of my bra. It’s the fact that anyone had to do it in the first place. So thank you, dear journalist, for writing this article. Now, everyone knows that what is important to us are the songs we write and people we write them for. 

If this article was in a tabloid paper, the headline would be “Music Journalist Knocks Band for Concentrating on Music” - or possibly “Female Front-Woman In ‘Under Exploited’ Shocker”.  The absurdity of it is astounding.  It’s like a food critic writing “Chef Wastes Too Much Time on Food; Cutlery is a Let Down”.

The fact a band care about their music more than their image should be applauded; their name should be shouted into the streets as an example to all.  There’s no other industry in the world where professionalism would be held-up as a Bad Thing.

The thing is, most people realise that the music industry is largely ridiculous.  Even the most casual pop fan is fairly aware that their favourite singer doesn’t need to be able to sing to put out a perfectly tuned vocal-led track.  They know that for a female singer, lack of talent can be overcome by lack of clothing.  What most people don’t realise is that the people writing about it are, in many cases, just as bad.

In the alternative press (as opposed to the Alternative Press), there are only really two places you can fall and be talked about; you are either a small band with little success but a metric fuckton of conviction, or your a huge band more famous for your previous column inches than your recent output.  I can’t remember the last time I read an article about Megadeth’s music, but new interviews with Dave Mustaine get posted around the internet on an almost daily basis.  The well-known bands that have reputations based entirely on their music can be counted on relatively few digits.  The best example is Tool, who all but disappear between records, but explode to a barrage of fantastic press whenever they have a new record out - despite having virtually no interaction with journalists.

There is almost no middle ground at all.  If you’re a small band, you can be fantastic and underground and the Next Big Thing; if you’re big you have the fans and mythical stories from the road.  Those bands on the road from one to the other get continually shafted.  If you chart, you’re sell-outs - if you don’t, you’re failures.  If you haven’t been caught snorting blow from a call-girl’s belly button, you aren’t trying hard enough - but if you have a drug habit, you’re a pathetic wannabe cliché.

With their second album, Paramore started to transition into this nomadic area.  With the third, they well and truly moved out of small band territory became an international success.  They did it with hard work, good songs, and by maintaining a fantastic rapport with their fan-base.  I’ve not seen one tale of debauchery about them - and for that, they’ll now undoubtedly pay the price in the press.  The magazines don’t like it.  They don’t care that half the band can’t even legally drink in half of the states in their home country; they want sleaze.  Even the topless photo of Hayley Williams didn’t satiate them, because it was so clearly from a private and intimate moment.  Next time, she should make sure there’s a crowd… and maybe have a little dribble of sick in the corner of her mouth.

There is a flip side to this though.  When a band work their collective arse off, and effectively get criticized for it, there’s only two possible outcomes.  Some of them will go off the rails - normally, they’re the ones that were all hype in the first place, and it’s no great loss when they implode under the weight of used needles and dead hookers.  The rest of them become even less interested in press, wrap themselves up in their music, and start writing even better records.

Topless photos are always welcome though.

Posted 1 year ago — 1,033 notes