Sunday

Hanson: In an MMMBop



17 September 2012
by Poppy Reid

It’s been two decades since three effeminate brothers from Tulsa, Oklahoma performed their first live show, and fifteen years since they dominated global radio with a pop track lead by a wordless hook. Taylor, Zac and Isaac Hanson have been wholly in charge of their careers since 2003 when they started their own label (3CG Records), so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that when the phone rings from Los Angeles, the middle child has even cut out the middleman. “Hi this is Taylor Hanson, I’m calling for the interview.”

The 29-year-old singer-songwriter/ multi-instrumentalist doesn’t use phone operators it seems, and has been taking the lead since he was nine; from the outside, it’s been a steady, wholesome twenty years exempt of any teen idol imprudence.

“It’s interesting how when people think of rock bands they think they idolise excess, being completely excessive, drug overdoses and rehab,” lists Hanson mannerly. “But honestly that stuff was just never,” he pauses, “I mean who really wants that?”

Since the runaway success of their magnum major-label debut Middle Of Nowhere, Hanson went from three boys toying with borrowed instruments to the muse of every young girl’s wet dream, and while they’ve successfully created solitary space-now each married with eight (soon to be nine) children between them-closet owners of the band’s Poster Power collection are selling out shows across the country, armed with new(ish - the 2010 record is only now seeing an Australian release) album Shout It Out. Currently on our shores for the first time since 2005, when they recorded The Best of Hanson: Live & Electric in Melbourne, the band has been living in a carefully crafted paradox, a situation Hanson doesn’t find remotely odd.

“We can go out, have a good time, do some stupid stuff where no one took pictures or video of us and embrace life in a positive way,” he says, as if one of his zealots may be within earshot.
“We’re not running away from having a good time but we’re also not looking every day for something to do in excess.”


Over the phone, Hanson can come across perfunctory and media savvy but as the conversation flows it’s apparent any preconceived ideals he has, however diplomatic, have been ingrained since childhood - a disposition most pop stars would envy. Perhaps it has something to do with the five embryonic years the band spent touring their two independent albums, or the years ‘pre-Def Jam Records contention,’ when they were forced to prove they weren’t just a manufactured band. “When you have success you’re gonna have to choose which battles to fight.” Hanson doesn’t sweat the specifics. “We were really young and we had success so there was a natural inclination to go ‘oh my gosh, this can’t really be for real?’ That’s just part of our story and we’ve never let the idea that some people didn’t get it in the beginning get in our way.”

It’s also possible the boys just came from good stock. Hanson says parents Clarke and Diana were always the comforting presence in the wings. “They were never involved from the point of view of telling anyone what they could and couldn’t do but they were definitely at our side... we never had that Svengali in the back steering everything we were doing,” he says, quashing rumours of the early years. “We always had a real strong sense of self and we had people close to us that were protective of what we were doing, and thankfully we came out of it in one piece!”


Their parents were largely responsible for Hanson’s sound: infectious harmony-drenched hooks affixed to classic song structures that mined ‘60s pop records, and while the world was shocked at the talent of the three pre-pubescent brothers, the boys themselves were only mimicking the maturity and grace of their idols.

“We’d always looked up to great musicians and rock ‘n’ roll icons,” remembers Hanson. “Many of them were much older than we were, you’re talking about The Beach Boys and The Beatles and people like Ray Charles, all of which were in their teens when they first had success, so we felt we were right on schedule!”

For such a famously uncontroversial pop group, the band do inspire a sense of surprise that their private activities haven’t changed much since the early family outings to Redwood forests (re: 1997 documentary Tulsa, Tokyo and The Middle Of Nowhere). For Hanson, a legacy reminiscent of The Beach Boys-who just finished up their 50th anniversary tour of Australia-has always been the zenith aspiration.

“It’s always been about having a career,” Hanson states. “Having a long career, and honestly being able to make this our day job and continue to go out there and make music, as our lives. Thankfully we’ve been able to do that.”

While the honeyed third of Hanson has always been the dominant voice of the group, in charge of most press commitments, blogging, and the co-writing of Take The Walk-a philanthropic-heavy book created “to turn our simple pursuits of being artists into something positive so that people could begin to join us,” –he’s inadvertently in charge of the band’s public image; a role which spearheaded the charge from small-town family band to big-city bubblegum giants.

“You are aware of it and you do have some sort of responsibility to kind of handle yourself,” he admits. “But that was never particularly difficult because I guess we had a gauge of: we make records, we play shows, we travel - that’s a pretty good thing! It’s worth it to have the constant sidenote of ‘be a good guy and deal with the pressures right.’”

Most ridiculous lawsuits in music


04 September 2012
by Poppy Reid

TMN have covered some of the most entertaining lawsuits in recent months, and as we're the self-appointed dukes of nostalgia, we've put together a list of our favourite allegations for you to poke fun at.

John Fogerty sued for plagiarising himself
In 1985 when Creedence Clearwater Revival singer John Fogerty released solo track The Old Man Down the Road, he didn’t once think he may be sued for plagiarising his own work.
In 1993, Fogerty was brought before the United States Supreme Court for copyright infringement after Fantasy Records owner Saul Zaentz claimed the track was CCR’s 1970 track Run Through the Jungle with different lyrics. Fantasy owned the rights to Run Through The Jungle and felt Fogerty was profiting of the song.

The label owner had previously sued long-time foe Fogerty for $144 million after claiming Fogerty's tracks Zanz Kant Danz and Mr. Greed painted Zaentz as “a thief, robber, adulterer, and murderer.” Fogerty settled this case out of court (because... well, it did) but the self-plagiarism case was very much laughed out of the courtroom.

Lindsay sues baby used on commercial ad campaign
Of course sporadic singer Lindsay Lohan should make this list. She’s been embroiled in many-a-lawsuit ever since she went through the wrong career/life-choices door after the excellent Mean Girls. But it wasn’t her defamation case against Pitbull (before he counter-sued), that tops her list of Most Ridiculous Efforts To Make A Buck.

In March 2010 Lohan filed a suit against E-Trade, a financial services company who’s commercial used a baby named Lindsay who was dubbed a "milkaholic." Even if E-Trade did seek the association, this case still should have been dismissed as soon as Lohan disclosed she wanted $100 million in damages. The case was settled in September with neither parties revealing the sum of their stupidity.

Avril Lavigne sued for stealing a '70s song
When Avril Lavigne was sued for plagiarising a '70s track "she's never heard of", not many people were surprised. Said to have ripped of The Rubinoos’ ’79 single I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend, the Dr. Luke co-write for Girlfriend was sent to a musicologist by Lavigne's lawyers in 2008 who (surprise, surprise) found no similarities. Despite publicly claiming they wouldn't settle out of court, Lavigne's lawyers later weighed up the potential costs of a lawsuit and decided to settle after all, leaving the Canadian singer to write pop ditties about her lacklustre love life - although this song comes dangerously close to Alanis Morrisette's Head Over Feet.

Placebo album cover star blames band for his failure at life
Remember the weird 12-year-old on the cover of Placebo’s 1996 self-titled debut? Well, the now 28-year-old David Fox sued the UK band in June this year, claiming the infamy from the #5 charting album (in the UK) led to bullying and unemployment after he felt forced to drop out of school. The band have since told Fox to direct his suit at Virgin, who released the album.


Miley Cyrus sued for racism
In early 2009 Miley Cyrus took a pretty tasteless photograph with her friends, inciting one LA resident to file a $4 billion lawsuit against her. The apparent violation of “the civil rights of Asian Pacific Islanders” was filed by Lucie J. Kim who requested the then 16-year-old pop singer to give $4 million to each of the over 1.9 million Asians in Los Angeles. Cyrus did publicly apologise, but nine months later the case was dismissed.


Carey vs. Carey
Mariah Carey might have been involved in a few sex tape scandals in the past but in 2006 she fought to keep her ever-so wholesome image in tact. The pop singer sued a porn star who was working under the name Mary Carey. Ridiculously, a judge agreed the adult actress should change her name and the suit was passed.


George Harrison ‘subconsciously’ plagiarises
When George Harrison released his triple-album All Things Must Pass in 1971, a year after the dissolution of The Beatles, he proved two things: that he had a shed-load of unreleased tunes built up after years of playing third-fiddle to Lennon and McCartney–understandable when you have the greatest songwriting team in history–and that he had definitely, definitely heard The Chiffons 1963 hit She's So Fine. Bright Tunes Music Corporation certainly agreed, filing a suit alleging that Harrison had plagiarised the tune in his single My Sweet Lord... twice - in the bridge and in the verse. Basically, he stole the whole thing. The case took five years to go to trial, and dragged out for ten years after the verdict (lesson: don't sue a Beatle), but a judge ruled that Harrison was guilty of "subconscious plagiarism" - a fairly rubbish ruling, considering the marked similarity. Being a Beatle, Harrison simply avoided all the bother by purchasing Bright Tunes, and therefore the song. S'pose you didn't hear James Taylor's Something In The Way She Moves when it was released on your own label, either George? He was always the subconscious Beatle...

Mother sues Justin Bieber for damaging her hearing
A mother who took her daughter to the singer’s Oregon gig in July 2010 is requesting $9.23 million in damages. Stacey Wilson Betts alleges Bieber “enticed the crowd into a frenzy of screams,” damaging her hearing. While we’re sure Biebs did in fact entice the crowds into frantic, eardrum-bursting bubbles of tween hysteria, we’re also banking on the fact mother Stacey Wilson Betts hasn’t been to a live concert since ’83 when she [allegedly] threw her bra onstage at a Jimmy Osmond concert. [speaking of potential lawsuits]

Jim Morrison’s parents sue remaining members of The Doors
In 2003, the parents of Jim Morrison filed a trademark suit against the remaining members of The Doors. Ray Manzarek and Robbie Krieger had been mourning Jim’s loss since 1971, and they, like many bands who lose a member at their prime, decided the most tasteful way to pay tribute to their departed friend was by touring with a new frontman (The Cult’s Ian Astbury) - in this case, under the name The Doors of the 21st Century.
 
"Defendants have knowingly, intentionally and maliciously misappropriated and infringed upon the valuable name and logo of the Doors,” the suit read, "by stealing these valuable property rights and employing them for the purpose of naming, promoting and marketing a new band."
To make matters even more convoluted, the parents of Morrison's (Val Kilmer) late wife, Pam Courson (Meg Ryan) also got in on the suit and unfortunately had every right to, because of their 25% ownership stake of the estate. After the case went to trial in 2005 it was ruled that the Morrison estate won a permanent injunction preventing Manzarek (Kyle McLachlan) and Krieger using the name (they now play under 'Riders Of The Storm'). While The Doors were only actively recording for five years with the self-appointed Lizard King at the helm, The Doors have sold over 49 million records since his death. The poetry books have sold more modestly...

Matchbox Twenty: True North


31 August 2012
by Poppy Reid

Survivors of the grunge rise, fall and revival, and comeback kings after two hiatuses, Matchbox Twenty have had their fair share of ups and downs. The Florida quintet saw their debut album sell fifteen million copies, reach Diamond certification in the US and clock ten times Platinum in Australia, just one year after forming.

Although the band have since sold 30 million records and are just under two months away from releasing a fourth LP, their seventeen years together did not come without several archetypal rock star epochs and experiences. TMN sat down with drummer/guitarist Paul Douchette and lead guitarist Kyle Cook to reminisce the peaks and valleys that lead them to this sunny suite at Sydney’s Intercontinental hotel.

“There were a couple of moments that got a little dark and kind of sad,” recalls Cook, 37. “I remember my mum coming to a show at the height of all the craziness and I’d forgotten that she was even there because it was like, mayhem. So I end up with this girl back at the hotel and mum knew where my room was and the door was ajar-and I’m wasted,” Cook cowers. “And I didn’t even have sex with the girl! My mum walks in-and I hear this later-she’s like ‘woop’ and this girl is petting me,” he attempts to fold his long legs into a foetal position, “like this.”

The band were on the right side of their teenage years when singles like 3 AM and Push were topping charts on a global scale. “We were on the radio station in every single station on the planet. We’d go into a town and people just kind of gave us the key to the city,” says Douchette.

Rewind three years and interestingly, the track most associate with ‘early Matchbox’ had already been recorded in 1993 for Rob Thomas and Douchette’s previous band, Tabitha’s Secret. Despite the track not even seeing a national release, the project did lead to the pair’s signing with Atlantic Records.

“They weren’t interested [in Tabitha’s Secret], but they were interested in Rob,” Douchette laughs. “For a while Rob started getting a lot of offers to go and he thought ‘well you know what, I think I’m gonna do that’. And they were like ‘well you can bring the bass player and the drummer.’

“Up until the time where we signed our record deal, I had no idea I was going to be on the deal, no clue. I thought I was just going to be Rob’s hired drummer.”

“We’re still employees of Rob,” Cook jokingly admits. “Nothing’s changed.”

While Cook’s slick comment proves he is happily aware of both the players’ perceived and endowed position, he couldn’t be more wrong about Thomas’ personal turnaround. “Rob really went off the rails for a while,” says Douchette, referring to the touring years with Yourself or Someone Like You. “There was a moment when him and I were flying to the UK and he was really trashed. I took him aside and said ‘what the fuck?’-He has told me many times afterward, that that was a pivotal moment where he went ‘okay, I need to slow down’.”

Cook’s opinion mirrors the thoughts of most, give a young man the key to every city he performs and a team of ‘yes men’, and bedlam will ensue. “Quite honestly, us making a gig, a lot of people’s jobs depended on that,” Cook states. “No body was going to tell you ‘look dude you’re really fucked up,’ everyone was like ‘just grab his luggage and get him on the plane’.”

It’s fitting that Douchette and Cook are in Australia without Thomas; throughout their career the band have spent years waiting in the wings, preparing the band’s next venture while the frontman fulfils his solo commitments or collaborations. All five members were in Sydney in 2010 when a plan was hatched for upcoming album North; Thomas was about to tour his second record Cradlesong, so the four members prepared around sixty songs in the interim. Over the next three years, the group would meet at each other’s personal studios culminating demos and capturing the vibe of each city before renting a house with a basement studio in Nashville.

“That kind of got out of hand,” grants Douchette. “We were left to our own devices and we kind of got overwhelmed with the amount of material and the amount of different ways we could take it.” This was also the first time Thomas, Douchette and Cook sat down together to write music. “It was hard for Rob, it was hard for us, at first,” accepts Douchette. Cook cuts in; “which is understandable. Rob felt like he was being demoted a little bit.”

“At the end of the day it didn’t really matter,” continues Douchette. “If Rob wrote all the best songs on the record then it would be a record of all Rob’s songs… but he’s as attached to the songs that are the three of us as he is the songs that are just his.”


After calling in longtime producer Matt Serletic the band spent three months recording the direction he guided them toward and although the band says first single She’s So Mean isn’t at all indicative of the record as a whole, it does pave a more pop rock path. “We talked about [a backlash] with She’s So Mean,” acknowledges Cook. “We’ve seen it on the Internet already. There’s going to be people who really love it and then there’s going to be people that think it’s too poppy. Whatever, it’s how it is.”
Admittedly, a pop direction shouldn’t come as a surprise to fans who have followed Matchbox Twenty from their embryonic days, tracks like Real World in 1998 and How Far We’ve Come in 2007 all have hook and bridge elements that weave through the band’s grunge genesis. “We’re big fans of pop music,” smiles Douchette. Cook is more philosophical, North holds a bigger creative slice than he’s ever offered before; after a five year cessation it’s clear the band have a lot riding on this new leaning.

“You just never know, the very thing that destroys your sound could be the very thing that is the identity of new direction or personality.”

The Rise Of Australian Hardcore

                                                                                Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

28 August 2012
by Poppy Reid

It’s no great revelation that the popularity of hardcore has risen in the last few years. The deep roar of the nation’s discontent has boiled up in the bellies of our pugnacious males for almost 30 years now; but thanks to the likes of Triple J, the growing plethora of home-grown promoters and Byron band Parkway Drive, the acceptance and lauding of the genre has reached an epoch where heavy music has found a place in our airwaves, our music television programmes, our genre-agnostic festivals and even at the ARIA Awards.

Stu Harvey, Triple J’s short.fast.loud radio host and co-founder of Shock Records’ new heavy music imprint Halfcut Records, has been advocating the genre on air for over 14 years. Since launching the Triple J show in 2004, Harvey has closely watched the genre’s ascent.

“I’ve been doing this for quite a while now, I’ve seen the popularity of this genre just absolutely skyrocket,” he says over the phone from Melbourne. “The fact Parkway Drive can sell out a Hordern Pavilion or a Festival Hall, this is a huge deal. There are not many Australian artists who can sell out a venue of that size. It’s a massive, massive audience now and I’ve just seen that from the people that listen to my programme.”

While Parkway Drive have ultimately raised the bar to an almost impossible level for their predecessors–with international accolades and an ARIA in 2010–mateship has been another factor in hardcore’s currency. Luke Logemann of The Staple Group helped launch full-service heavy music collective UNFD (We Are Unified) in January 2011, and has sold over 100,000 records since. His proudest release is The Amity Affliction’s sophomore album Youngbloods, which debuted at #6 on the ARIA chart in 2010 (under UNFD’s previous incarnation as Boomtown Records). Numerical boasting aside, Logemann says it’s the sense of community that has kept the culture alive.

“Bands work hard and help each other out, while the fans and artists have effectively stopped more mainstream/corporate people from influencing or effecting what happens. It’s a ‘for the kids, by the kids’ scene and it always works better when it stays that way.”

A band whose music most ARIA board members would turn their noses up at or consider a detriment to business, found itself accepting an ARIA for Best Hard Rock / Heavy Metal Album (Deep Blue) with their ideologue intact at the nation’s most prestigious annual awards. While those working for and in Australian hardcore know it is longevity that prevails, there has been more local enthusiasm for it than ever before. On Parkway Drive’s last album tour in 2010, the band sold 27,089 tickets to the nine national shows, accumulating over $948,000 - an impressive figure considering most bands who place themselves under the same umbrella would be lucky to draw more than 200 in their home town. Over the phone, Parkway’s frontman Winston McCall is self-effacing about his own achievements but awed by the country’s.

“It’s definitely something that’s grown from a base of individuality here in Australia. Other genres–I wouldn’t say mimick–but do look overseas for inspiration, while Australia can definitely hold that as its core.”

Tailing close behind Parkway Drive are acts like the aforementioned Brisbane band and UNFD signing The Amity Affliction and Melbourne’s Dream On Dreamer who signed to US label Rise Records in 2009. Vastly fan-supported and outside of corporate control, these acts have established themselves over the past decade through consistent touring and an unwavering social media presence. Resist Records founder, Parkway advocate and respected player in the Australian scene, Graham Nixon feels that while these methods are distinctly different to the time when he was becoming aware of the culture, it’s a dichotomous predicament.

“I remember when I first started getting into music, very few Australian hardcore bands had releases out. There weren’t many studios around and they were charging premium rates… Nowadays kids can probably do that at home for free on their computer with Garageband, which is great for the kid, but you’re not helping the talent of the musician.”
Since founding Resist Records in 1998 and signing Parkway Drive in 2004, Graham and his assistant Dani Chalmers can count 110 releases under their name. In July the label released sophomore album Point Of No Return from Perth band Blkout, and are set to release Parkway Drive’s fourth album in the coming months. Mainstream success has never been an endeavour of Nixon’s, nor of any of the scene’s major players; the end game has never been to hold their artists above the fans or about monetary gain. In fact, keeping its severance from the commercial world has always been the core stratagem.

To those who have only listened to the music on a shallow level, the genre’s message matches its music: aggressive, warring and equated with heavily tattooed, dark-clothed nonconformists. And while most of the musicians fit this description, Stu Harvey says the ideologies coming through of late couldn’t be more disparate. “At the moment there’s a lot of what I would call positive hardcore coming through, positive messages that are not about doom and gloom. The music is so raw and angry; it’s a great release from everyday frustration but at the same time it’s shouting about living a good lifestyle.

“It’s intriguing, the hardcore scene probably has a much higher level of people that live that clean lifestyle than probably any other genre of music.”


Unsurprisingly, hardcore music is now a part of mainstream culture, it’s now just as accepted as other subgenres like dubstep or grime. Without the genre seeming extreme or negative, it poses the question: without the associated subversion, has something been taken away from the genre’s core values and ethics? A culture that promotes respect, family and self-preservation. Nixon would say ‘yes’.

“The talented younger bands, I don’t think they have a history of what hardcore is… A lot of bands nowadays are just too caught up with success,” Nixon says during an interview at a Newtown cafĂ©. “[Parkway] are massively responsible because they’re successful, I think of all the bands that I deal with they’re probably the least concerned, they honestly couldn’t care if they played to 200 people or 20,000 people.”

Many bands now making their way to the forefront seem to be either uneducated on the culture or just blatantly ignoring it. “Some bands submit [to the label] for absolutely everything and that’s their downfall, they don’t know what they’re right for,” continues Nixon. “If you’re a band that sounds like Parkway, don’t submit for a Toy Boats tour. They have no idea about who the band is and that to me says they haven’t done their research.”

Along with social media’s many advantages in gaining direct contact with a band’s fans, heroes and influential label-heads, comes the many enthusiasts who also want a piece of the pie. Nixon receives countless emails, letters and Facebook requests per week, some from aspiring bands, and some from self-professed booking agents, tour and band managers - emails which have a reverse effect on the artist the person is trying to promote.

“They have friends who think they’re booking agents, that’s unfortunately a downfall. They’ll have friends who’ll try and act all professional which I find silly because at the end of the day we’re just doing music, we’re not doing law degrees.”

It could be argued that underground hardcore reached the point of adversity with Byron Bay five-piece Parkway Drive. Stu Harvey suggests that from his seat behind the mic at Triple J, the band are the one off-cut in Australia at this time who have carried the culture’s integrity into 2012.

“What do they do when they’re not onstage? They surf, they jump off bridges, they play video games and they work on being a band; because of that you can see how well they’re doing… As opposed to a band that goes out to party all the time, who put a bit of a use-by-date on being a band.”

The Sydney and Melbourne scenes are particularly tendentious; dedicated weekly heavy music events like Hot Damn! and SFX in Sydney’s city and Next and Bang! in Melbourne create delusions of grandeur for local acts. Some aspiring bands play to a full house of punters who are predominantly at the club for the $5 drinks and the scene credit, and expect to get a big-name support tour the following month.

“I would dare say that 90% of those bands that are on that list would play a headline show and no one would turn up… They’re probably good bands, but there’s something about them that doesn’t have an interest to me… they might think they’re doing a lot but I don’t think they’re doing a lot.

“Unfortunately too many bands will barely have a set list full of songs and they will think, ‘we want to be the next Parkway’. No band has patience.”

Parkway Drive were born out of small town ennui and the desire to revolt against the grunge and American-adopted sounds that had shaped the early ‘90s. Along with acts like I Killed The Prom Queen and Behind Crimson Eyes, the band lead the charge for a new wave of community conscious flag bearers, standing vigil on the outskirts of mainstream consumerism. McCall feels this was their point of difference when they made a name for themselves in rural NSW in 2002.

“We went after our own identity and steered away from the cookie cutter image of the generation before, and I guess that’s where the strength lies.”

For a band who has watched the genre’s popularity cumbersomely seep into national consciousness, McCall has seen every trick in the book used by those chasing rays of limelight. “The sound itself has become so popular to the point where the history of it, the culture of it is literally just about the sound for a lot of people,” he explains. “There’s a lot of it that sounds a hell of a lot like us and a hell of a lot like hardcore bands or whatever, but you’ll find the closest thing they’ve gotten to that kind of music originated a year ago and was influenced by Linkin Park. It’s a world away from the stuff that I was brought up on and the ethics that I hold on to. Hardcore in Australia is to have a strong sense of community and culture and a strong ethical standpoint.”

Interestingly, the bands who do claim to mimic Parkway Drive’s core values are the acts currently associated with up and coming hardcore. House Vs. Hurricane are undoubtedly a part of the genre’s uprising in recent memory; the Melbourne band have undergone multiple lineup revisions since forming in 2006 and released their second record with new frontman Dan Casey and new label UNFD last July. Crooked Teeth debuted at #20 on the ARIA Albums chart but as vocalist Ryan McLerie explains, that was never the main goal.

“We were never like ‘let’s try and get signed’, he says down the phone after a music video shoot. “I don’t think any one of us sat down and said that to one another. It sort of happened on its own. We just started playing shows and people started coming to our shows… It was just ‘let’s play shows with our friends and go crazy’.”

McLerie isn’t completely callow, he does seem to harbour the same ideals as his lionised forefathers but feels it was their sound that first caught our attention. “We were on the front end of that whole keyboard, synthy stuff that’s now its own genre. We were one of the first bands to do that here and I think that got us a lot of attention when we were first starting out.”

Brett Anderson, frontman of Sydney six-piece Buried In Verona knows first-hand how difficult it once was to get Australia’s attention in a predominantly DIY genre. “I think the more weekend warrior bands and the people who aren’t really committed to having a career in it, they’re figuring out early that it’s not really going to work,” he says in an interview at the TMN offices. “We were shit too when we first got into it… It was really difficult to get people to shows and now if they are good, people will spend the twenty bucks and go and watch them, they’ll buy their album, they’ll buy the shirt. People are way more supportive.”


Now on their third album cycle, Buried In Verona have found chart success with this year’s record Notorious. Released on June 1 through UNFD, the album saw them take influences from technical metal, and become the second hardcore act to hit the ARIA top 20 this year, but with upcoming releases from Amity and Parkway, they certainly won’t be the last. “The other two albums just didn’t stand out enough, they were good albums but there was 50,000 other people doing the same thing all around the world,” Anderson simpers. “There wasn’t enough of a difference to set us apart.” Although Anderson admits to the band’s orectic value of notoriety (pun intended), their tenacity since 2007 despite lineup, label and sound changes, has only now paid off with each member quitting their day job just months ago.

This is one of the consistent factors for these bands; they aren’t privy to the reactionary attitude of Australia’s mainstream where an artist can go from studying their HSC to selling out national tours after starring in sixteen episodes of a televised talent show. As Luke Logemann says, infamy only comes to those willing to persevere. “Those bands (Amity Affliction and Parkway Drive) weren’t overnight successes. They just stuck to their guns and toured their arses off until people took notice.”

“The bands from the mid-2000s that jumped on the American emo kinda bandwagon didn’t last very long, but that was a scene that relied on radio and TV. So as soon as they all turned into dance/pop focused stations, the whole thing fell apart really.”

While some radio stations do have dedicated shows that support heavy music and both MTV and Channel [V] do abet it with late-night specials, most media refuse to acknowledge its existence. Publicist Bec Reato has done much to champion the culture throughout her career, leaving her job at major label EMI to work at Shock Records where she contributed to the label’s first #1 album in 2010 with UK metalcore band Bring Me The Horizon. Last year Reato and fellow Shock employee Emily Kelly both left the independent to form their own agency, Deathproof PR. Working closely with record labels and promoters, Reato understands better than most the disadvantage these bands have with popular media.

“Heavy music scares people off and I think a lot of people in the media aren’t really fans of it,” she says during an interview at the Triple J offices. “Traditional media are not going to care about your band unless you’ve got someone going in and telling them why they need to care about it.”

Conversely, it’s been the vision of hardcore as a passion for the culture rather than a commercial portal that has driven independent labels. The majority of bands within the lifestyle opt to sign with an indie for many reasons, some for artistic freedom, or the close-knit family that defines each label, but most acts sign the dotted line with the assurance that they won’t be put to the wayside while the more commercially appealing take priority. With the rise of social media in the last few years, big marketing machines, the 360 major label deal and the manufacturing of bands is now irrelevant. Reato says that when it comes to heavy music in Australia, the four majors are slow-moving beasts who don’t know how to adapt.

“It really surprises me how major labels don’t even realise the potential of some bands they have on their roster just because it falls into this heavy music category, they don’t get it… That was proven with the success of Bring Me The Horizon, it showed there is money to be made there, there is a legitimate genre.”

This hostility has created a double-edged sword situation, where the stigma attached to a major is helping bands find their way toward profit on their own. Stu Harvey, who worked alongside Reato at Shock says bands can have the upper hand if they’re willing to work for it.

“What can a major label give them that they can’t achieve by themselves through hard work, good songs and being good to their fans?”

Be that as it may, McLerie and Anderson have quite conflicting views about major labels. McLerie views the big four as cookie cutting factories who put bands through turning cogs with hopes they’ll come out the other end just as profitable as their last project. “I don’t hear much originality in bands that are getting signed, it’s mostly the bands that don’t get signed that have an original sound,” he scorns. “It’s pretty clear, the record label industry is dying and no one’s making money anymore, they’re signing bands that are safe and that they know they’ll make money from... I don’t think it’ll get any better to be honest.”

Anderson on the other hand, sees nothing wrong in piggybacking through open doors to new opportunities - he feels if Buried In Verona were given the chance to sign a major label deal, they would consider it.

“You’re not going to go far in this industry unless you have someone to get you there,” he says pragmatically. “Who’s going to say no to someone who can take their career to the next level?”

It has to be suggested that perhaps this is one of the chief differences between hardcore culture ten years ago and what’s left of it now. Anderson is in no way wrong or alone in thinking a wider reach is a positive thing, nor is it his fault that many bands are less concerned with the same principles as others. But for a veteran like Graham Nixon, the fact is a little disconcerting.

“Music shouldn’t be about living a rock star lifestyle,” he stresses. “You should wanna play music with your mates. You don’t even have to be talented, you can be the world’s worst guitarist, the guy who plays bass for Parkway can’t play bass, he’s a friend of theirs’ and they said ‘well let’s just give them a go’ and that’s basically what Parkway is about.”

Even though Nixon rarely has to cross paths with the commercial realm, he shares every interviewee’s ire that his life’s work is never put on par. “Guy Sebastian and all that stuff is just lame,” he smiles, “and that’s what’s on the radio right now… There’s been more support on iTunes for The Voice than any Australian act, these kids are just doing covers, they’re people off the street. It doesn’t affect me but it’s sad that that’s reality.”

Reato’s hopes to change all that have never wavered. “What Deathproof are trying to push is more recognition; in an ideal world House Vs. Hurricane would be making as much money as Guy Sebastian.

“Channel [V] have a heavy music show called [V] Loud, it’s on at eleven o’clock on a school night so I’d like to see them get behind it more. MTV don’t even have a heavy music show, they’ve got Headbanger’s Ball but that’s metal only. I’d like to see time slots like that move forward so that it’s in people’s faces a little bit more and,” she laughs, “stop hiding it!”

Logemann’s wish-list is almost identical; with UNFD he foresees an aristocratic attitude towards his roster and while Australia may not happily look upon his acts as ‘the next big thing,’ they’ll at least consider them ‘the next best thing.’

“We do whatever we can to give bands the exposure they deserve, and hopefully, put money in their pockets to keep doing what they do for as long as possible,” he says. “We hope that just means Australian hardcore will continue to thrive the way it has. Later this year with The Amity Affliction, we will likely have our first #1 ARIA record, and Parkway soon after that will probably do the same. It’s only a matter of time before Dream On Dreamer, House Vs Hurricane and [Sydney band] Northlane are filling massive rooms like those two bands. Things are only getting bigger.”

Conversely, if these bands do attract the wider audience that their adherents think they deserve, the effects could just as easily turn sour. With every multi-Platinum record and sold-out arena, the core ethics and educational value of the culture could evanesce.

In fact, it’s possible we’re already halfway there.

Guy Sebastian shows his battle scars

                                                                                  Photo credit: Ken Leanfore

14 August 2012
by Poppy Reid

A decade since winning the inaugural Australian Idol, Guy Sebastian is still the nation’s underdog. Of his past five LPs, three have peaked within the top 5 in Australia, yet even with 30 Platinum and three Gold certifications Sebastian is yet to receive a public voted ARIA award. Some say it’s a case of the Idol curse, an unshakable stigma bestowed on the television programme’s chosen few, but amidst a promotional tour for sixth release Armageddon, 30-year-old Sebastian is more concerned with seizing the day than public perception.

“Live like it is Armageddon, live like the world is going to end,” he beams while seated in Sony Music’s Sydney boardroom. “Because it is at some point, so don’t worry, be happy - that bridge is my life model.”

Sebastian references lyrics from his own tracks throughout the interview, but not in the self-aggrandising tone of those aiming to raise their own worth – it’s clear he lives his own words. Having finished his 18-date sold-out tour of Australia in July, Sebastian looks relieved the stint was actually lucrative.

“You’re sort of faced with this dilemma at the start of every tour as an Australian touring act, of, ‘how much risk do I want to take?’ You can go out with a four-piece band and have some crappy lights and hopefully make a bit of cash at the end of the day or you can go all out. We went all out this time.

“I was able to invest it all back into it without losing money and without having to sell my child,” he laughs. “For me, I’ve done that every tour, I’ve never walked away from a tour and sort of rubbed my hands together thinking ‘cool I’ve earned some cash’.”

In 2008, Sebastian’s tour profits were in the red when he flew iconic soul legends like the late Donald ‘Duck’ Dunn and Steve Potts over from the US for his Memphis Tour. “They were a ridiculous fee every gig. That was tough, but it meant that Australians got to see Donald ‘Duck’ Dunn who’s now passed away and Steve Cropper. That would have been the last time anyone had gotten to see those guys play together.”

Despite Sebastian’s commercially-honed songwriting skills, his genre-agnostic collaborations have been key to keeping him in the charts. His single Art Of Love with Jordan Sparks went to #8 in Australia while #1 track Who’s That Girl, featuring Eve won an ARIA last year for Highest Selling Single. Though R’n’B has heavily influenced Sebastian in the past, Armageddon will showcase his first dabbling in hip hop, with Lupe Fiasco’s cameo in second single Battle Scars. Even the lyrics and melody for the track–written with songwriter David Ryan Harris, who co-wrote Like It Like That–came about in a way different to his previous methods.

“I always like to go into a songwriting session with an idea, I don’t want to go in there and just start dry. I got these chords in my head and then just started singing them,” Sebastian begins singing the words in his honeyed tone. “A lot of the time I don’t sing lyrics, it’s all melody,” he says, silverly singing a wordless hook, “and I’ll worry about the words later - but that just popped into my head. I got to David’s and literally it was done in ten minutes.”

The pairing with Lupe Fiasco was even easier, with the Chicago rapper agreeing to an email request in April and turning up to Sebastian’s Sydney studio a week later with two different versions of his part. Granted, he was in the country for hip hop event Supafest, but Sebastian puts it all down to fate.

“I think Lupe marrying with that song, it was just supposed to happen, because I don’t think anyone would have done as good a job as Lupe; he just fit it so well and he’s so passionate about that sort of stuff… For Lupe, it doesn’t matter if you pay him a bunch of money, he’s only going to do something if he digs it. I was so happy and just honoured that he was like, ‘Dude I love the song and I think we can do something special with it together’.”

Linked to freedom fighting organisations and anti-establishment, it’s apposite the video with Fiasco should touch on war and the inner battles of human kind. The clip, filmed in the US, features pedestrians holding signs with different one-word messages that represent those battles, and while it takes a bit of digging before Sebastian admits his own personal scars, he confesses they are entirely relational.

“I’ve been cheated on a couple of times but if I had to hold one thing up it’d probably be ‘used’,” he says softly. “I’ve had friends or people in my life where I’ve come to the conclusion that they don’t actually care about me, these people are literally just milking me dry. I don’t have those people in my life anymore. I must say I’ve gotten very confrontational nowadays. Life is short, we only live it once so live and love, give it all you got,” he says quoting lead single Don't Worry Be Happy.