The response to yesterday's blog has been overwhelming. My blog stats tell me that thousands of people from all over the world - UK, USA, France, Germany, Italy, Poland, Russia, Canada, Australia and more - have read my memories of Michael Jackson's appearance at the 2006 World Music Awards. My Facebook, Twitter and email accounts have been inundated with messages of thanks, many from people who were at the WMAs ceremony and had never seen anyone tell the truth about the night's events before. It is a wonderful feeling, to be told that your work has moved somebody. It has been a very humbling day.
My friend Damien also messaged me, to say that the video I posted of the World Music Awards appeared to have been doctored; Jackson's vocals were quieter than they should have been. I had thought when I watched it that they were quieter than I remembered. He sent me an earlier edit of the ceremony, with different camera angles, in which Jackson's vocals are far louder. Listening to them with more volume and clarity serves only to further dispel the nonsense stories I quoted in yesterday's blog, which claimed he had 'mangled' the song and missed his high notes.
Here's the clip:
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Monday, 18 November 2013
Sunday, 17 November 2013
Conjuring a Chorus of Boos; The Truth About Michael Jackson's UK Comeback
I feel compelled to write this blog today because as I sit here in front of my computer, it is seven years - to the day - since I experienced an epiphany of sorts about the media's coverage of Michael Jackson. I had followed his trial quite carefully, of course, comparing court transcripts to media coverage and being distressed by the horrendously biased reporting. But those reports were often at least rooted in fact. Journalists would misrepresent genuine testimony, in most cases simply 'lying' by omission.
What happened seven years ago was different. I witnessed firsthand the construction of a purely fabricated story; one which shot around the world, once again making Michael Jackson a global figure of ridicule, and became immediately accepted as 'fact'. To this day, I read occasional press reports which mention this fabricated event as though it were an objective truth. It has even been listed as a significant career event in Jackson biographies.
Witnessing the creation of the myth was an experience that has stayed with me ever since. For an enthusiastic journalism degree student, it was a shocking and saddening insight into the media's more sinister machinations.
On November 15, 2006, Michael Jackson attended the World Music Awards at London's Earls Court Arena. It was his first official appearance in the capital since his acquittal in June 2005 and I was fortunate enough to be there. Some fans queued all day to secure prime positions in front of the stage but I had to go to university and then travel into London in the evening. Nonetheless, my friends and I easily claimed a spot against the front barrier, just off to the side, immediately beside the mixing desk. We spent part of the evening chatting to the sound and security staff, who tipped us off that they'd been in rehearsals and heard Jackson rehearsing 'that save the world song'. We met Katie Melua and got an autograph as she watched some of the show from the side of the stage.
It seemed like everybody was there for Michael Jackson. At any gap in the ceremony, chants of his name would erupt around the arena. Other performers on the bill included Enya, Beyoncé and Andrea Bocelli, but they mostly received tepid responses and their performances were often book-ended by increasingly loud chants of 'Michael! Michael! Michael!'
The night was plagued by delays. Lindsay Lohan, on hosting duty, fluffed almost every line she spoke and had to record all of her links multiple times. The turnaround between acts was slow. At one point there was a half hour or more of just nothing at all: an empty stage.
When Michael Jackson eventually appeared, to collect a Diamond Award for album sales over 100million, the place exploded. I have seen Paul McCartney. I have seen Madonna. I have seen Prince. I have seen George Michael. I have never in my life, before or since, witnessed any artist provoke the response that Michael Jackson provoked that night. He received the most sustained, thunderous reception I've ever seen.
He remained on stage for several minutes to deliver two short acceptance speeches - one for his Diamond Award and one for a Guinness World Record presentation. For the duration of his speeches, I hardly heard a word he said, despite the booming sound system. Most artists receive a big cheer as they walk onstage, then the audience settles down. Michael Jackson provoked hysteria. Shrieking and crying. It didn't lull once from the moment he appeared on that balcony until the moment he disappeared backstage again. It was an unforgettable sight.
He emerged again later for a brief performance of sorts. He walked onstage to another cacophonous reception as his record-breaking humanitarian single We Are The World played over the speaker system. He sang a few lines and seemed to look pleadingly towards the mixing desk. My suspicion is that the fans were making such a din he couldn't hear himself. It was like one of his concerts from the 80s. I saw bodies pulled from the crowd and rushed away in wheelchairs.
A few minutes later the sound people bizarrely turned the track off just as he started singing again. No matter. The place just went even crazier. It was an emotional moment, watching him receive such a rapturous welcome after the previous summer's events. After standing for a while on the runway that jutted out from the stage into the crowd, he began to exit, but as the cheering swelled - the audience not wanting to lose sight of him so quickly - he stopped and turned around. Playfully, he lifted a finger to his lips as if to ask the question, 'Shall I stay or shall I go?' The shrieking intensified.
He stood for a while, smiling, and just soaking in the adulation, then raised his fist into a triumphant black power salute. With that, he turned and coolly strolled off-stage, the applause continuing fiercely as he disappeared from view. I have never seen a human being cause such chaos. It was deafening.
You can watch a video of the performance here:
The following day I was back at university. As I walked along the corridor towards my first lecture, I met two female classmates. Looking at me pityingly, they asked: "How did it go?" I began telling them about the awe-inspiring reaction Jackson had received; how shocked I was at the scale of the outpouring. It had been one of the most incredible spectacles I'd ever witnessed.
I noticed they were now looking at me as though I were a crazy person. I asked them what was wrong and it transpired that the media was not quite reporting the night's proceedings as they had happened. Once I gained access to the internet, I discovered multiple publications were claiming he had been booed offstage.
"Michael Jackson walked offstage to a chorus of boos last night," the Mirror's Tom Bryant wrote. "The crowd, expecting a proper version of his song, booed the star who then scuttled offstage."
Scuttled offstage.
Watch the above video. Jackson not only does not 'scuttle offstage' to 'a chorus of boos' - he remains onstage long after his performance ends, absorbing the most emphatically positive reaction I've ever observed at an awards ceremony.
The Daily Record's Julia Kuttner wrote an almost identical story: "Michael Jackson walked off stage to a chorus of boos last night - just four lines into his first performance in the UK for nine years. Jacko had picked up a gong at the World Music Awards in London minutes before. But after singing only the chorus to his charity single We Are The World, he stopped to repeatedly tell the audience: 'I love you'. Jackson scuttled off the stage after he was booed by the crowd, who were expecting a proper version of the song."
The Evening Standard also got in on the action. Reporters Chris Elwell-Sutton and Valentine Low wrote: "His much-vaunted reappearance turned into an embarrassing disaster. His entire performance consisted of one mangled line, several missed high notes and an exit to a chorus of boos from the audience. 'I love you', he told them - although whether the feeling was reciprocated is open to question."
I was in complete disbelief. Had one rogue reporter claimed Michael Jackson was booed offstage, I wouldn't have been so angry. Every profession has its bad apples. But for multiple reporters to have attended an event at which Michael Jackson demonstrably and categorically was not booed offstage, yet to all then write articles claiming he was, demonstrated a clear conspiracy between multiple parties to fabricate and perpetuate a bogus story.
That myth went around the world. Michael Jackson getting booed offstage became the biggest source of mirth on many a topical panel show and celebrity chat programme. It prompted further stories. The Guardian's Martin Hyde repeated the lies, declaring Jackson the 'ex-King of Pop' and claiming he had only managed a few lines 'before the booing began'. The Sunday Mirror captioned a follow-up story: "Plastic freak's comeback was truly diabolical."
Even celebrity publicist Max Clifford was hoodwinked into commenting on the bogus story, telling the Daily Record: "The one thing that always stood him in good stead was, as a performer, he was one of the greats. This week, he destroyed that image. The reports from the awards say he sang one mangled line, several messy high notes and exited to a chorus of boos. As a performer that was incredibly damaging, and that's all he's got left. I think Michael is probably beyond help."
Researching the story years later using newspaper archive service Infotrac, I discovered something very interesting; an earlier report from the Mirror which completely contradicted the fabricated version it later settled on. In at least one edition of the November 16 paper, a story by Eva Simpson and Caroline Hedley read: "He's back! Michael Jackson was the biggest winner at the awards where he gave his first public performance for nine years. The star was honoured with a Diamond Award for selling more than 100 million albums in his career. Hosted by Lindsay Lohan, the starstudded event at London's Earl's Court saw Jacko give a stunning performance of We Are The World. You sure are, Jacko."
So it would appear that at some point an editorial decision was taken that instead of continuing to report what had actually happened, the newspaper was going to rewrite the night's events to tell the exact opposite of the truth - and several other publications were going to do the same.
It seemed to me that the media had already decided what story it wanted to tell about Michael Jackson's appearance in London - it was just an irritation to them that he hadn't played ball. When his appearance prompted a powerful outpouring of adulation - fans being rushed away in wheelchairs like the tours of his heyday - it didn't suit the industry's preconceived narrative. Certain figures were intent on Jackson being the 'ex-King of Pop'. When Earls Court actually went just as crazy for him as it would have done 20 years prior, it didn't fit - so they simply ignored that inconvenient turn of events and conjured a 'chorus of boos' from thin air. If Jackson wouldn't play his 'ex-King of Pop' role like a good boy, they would attempt to manufacture it. It was classic British tabloid muscle-flexing.
The frustration and the sadness I felt that day when I observed this lie being willfully peddled, and the powerlessness I felt just watching TV presenter after TV presenter, comedian after comedian, recycle the nonsense for the consumption of millions who were not there and would never know it was all made up, bubbles back up whenever I remember the debacle. It was a sorry day for journalism - but the profession has had many of those where Michael Jackson is concerned.
I'm not sure why I've never written anything about it before, but a friend posted a video from the event on Facebook earlier today to mark the anniversary. It was the last time I saw Michael Jackson perform live, but the memory is always tinged with sadness and frustration for what happened in the following days. It's about time somebody set the record straight on this particular fallacy.
What happened seven years ago was different. I witnessed firsthand the construction of a purely fabricated story; one which shot around the world, once again making Michael Jackson a global figure of ridicule, and became immediately accepted as 'fact'. To this day, I read occasional press reports which mention this fabricated event as though it were an objective truth. It has even been listed as a significant career event in Jackson biographies.
Witnessing the creation of the myth was an experience that has stayed with me ever since. For an enthusiastic journalism degree student, it was a shocking and saddening insight into the media's more sinister machinations.
On November 15, 2006, Michael Jackson attended the World Music Awards at London's Earls Court Arena. It was his first official appearance in the capital since his acquittal in June 2005 and I was fortunate enough to be there. Some fans queued all day to secure prime positions in front of the stage but I had to go to university and then travel into London in the evening. Nonetheless, my friends and I easily claimed a spot against the front barrier, just off to the side, immediately beside the mixing desk. We spent part of the evening chatting to the sound and security staff, who tipped us off that they'd been in rehearsals and heard Jackson rehearsing 'that save the world song'. We met Katie Melua and got an autograph as she watched some of the show from the side of the stage.
It seemed like everybody was there for Michael Jackson. At any gap in the ceremony, chants of his name would erupt around the arena. Other performers on the bill included Enya, Beyoncé and Andrea Bocelli, but they mostly received tepid responses and their performances were often book-ended by increasingly loud chants of 'Michael! Michael! Michael!'
The night was plagued by delays. Lindsay Lohan, on hosting duty, fluffed almost every line she spoke and had to record all of her links multiple times. The turnaround between acts was slow. At one point there was a half hour or more of just nothing at all: an empty stage.
When Michael Jackson eventually appeared, to collect a Diamond Award for album sales over 100million, the place exploded. I have seen Paul McCartney. I have seen Madonna. I have seen Prince. I have seen George Michael. I have never in my life, before or since, witnessed any artist provoke the response that Michael Jackson provoked that night. He received the most sustained, thunderous reception I've ever seen.
He remained on stage for several minutes to deliver two short acceptance speeches - one for his Diamond Award and one for a Guinness World Record presentation. For the duration of his speeches, I hardly heard a word he said, despite the booming sound system. Most artists receive a big cheer as they walk onstage, then the audience settles down. Michael Jackson provoked hysteria. Shrieking and crying. It didn't lull once from the moment he appeared on that balcony until the moment he disappeared backstage again. It was an unforgettable sight.
He emerged again later for a brief performance of sorts. He walked onstage to another cacophonous reception as his record-breaking humanitarian single We Are The World played over the speaker system. He sang a few lines and seemed to look pleadingly towards the mixing desk. My suspicion is that the fans were making such a din he couldn't hear himself. It was like one of his concerts from the 80s. I saw bodies pulled from the crowd and rushed away in wheelchairs.
A few minutes later the sound people bizarrely turned the track off just as he started singing again. No matter. The place just went even crazier. It was an emotional moment, watching him receive such a rapturous welcome after the previous summer's events. After standing for a while on the runway that jutted out from the stage into the crowd, he began to exit, but as the cheering swelled - the audience not wanting to lose sight of him so quickly - he stopped and turned around. Playfully, he lifted a finger to his lips as if to ask the question, 'Shall I stay or shall I go?' The shrieking intensified.
He stood for a while, smiling, and just soaking in the adulation, then raised his fist into a triumphant black power salute. With that, he turned and coolly strolled off-stage, the applause continuing fiercely as he disappeared from view. I have never seen a human being cause such chaos. It was deafening.
You can watch a video of the performance here:
The following day I was back at university. As I walked along the corridor towards my first lecture, I met two female classmates. Looking at me pityingly, they asked: "How did it go?" I began telling them about the awe-inspiring reaction Jackson had received; how shocked I was at the scale of the outpouring. It had been one of the most incredible spectacles I'd ever witnessed.
I noticed they were now looking at me as though I were a crazy person. I asked them what was wrong and it transpired that the media was not quite reporting the night's proceedings as they had happened. Once I gained access to the internet, I discovered multiple publications were claiming he had been booed offstage.
"Michael Jackson walked offstage to a chorus of boos last night," the Mirror's Tom Bryant wrote. "The crowd, expecting a proper version of his song, booed the star who then scuttled offstage."
Scuttled offstage.
Watch the above video. Jackson not only does not 'scuttle offstage' to 'a chorus of boos' - he remains onstage long after his performance ends, absorbing the most emphatically positive reaction I've ever observed at an awards ceremony.
The Daily Record's Julia Kuttner wrote an almost identical story: "Michael Jackson walked off stage to a chorus of boos last night - just four lines into his first performance in the UK for nine years. Jacko had picked up a gong at the World Music Awards in London minutes before. But after singing only the chorus to his charity single We Are The World, he stopped to repeatedly tell the audience: 'I love you'. Jackson scuttled off the stage after he was booed by the crowd, who were expecting a proper version of the song."
The Evening Standard also got in on the action. Reporters Chris Elwell-Sutton and Valentine Low wrote: "His much-vaunted reappearance turned into an embarrassing disaster. His entire performance consisted of one mangled line, several missed high notes and an exit to a chorus of boos from the audience. 'I love you', he told them - although whether the feeling was reciprocated is open to question."
I was in complete disbelief. Had one rogue reporter claimed Michael Jackson was booed offstage, I wouldn't have been so angry. Every profession has its bad apples. But for multiple reporters to have attended an event at which Michael Jackson demonstrably and categorically was not booed offstage, yet to all then write articles claiming he was, demonstrated a clear conspiracy between multiple parties to fabricate and perpetuate a bogus story.
That myth went around the world. Michael Jackson getting booed offstage became the biggest source of mirth on many a topical panel show and celebrity chat programme. It prompted further stories. The Guardian's Martin Hyde repeated the lies, declaring Jackson the 'ex-King of Pop' and claiming he had only managed a few lines 'before the booing began'. The Sunday Mirror captioned a follow-up story: "Plastic freak's comeback was truly diabolical."
Even celebrity publicist Max Clifford was hoodwinked into commenting on the bogus story, telling the Daily Record: "The one thing that always stood him in good stead was, as a performer, he was one of the greats. This week, he destroyed that image. The reports from the awards say he sang one mangled line, several messy high notes and exited to a chorus of boos. As a performer that was incredibly damaging, and that's all he's got left. I think Michael is probably beyond help."
Researching the story years later using newspaper archive service Infotrac, I discovered something very interesting; an earlier report from the Mirror which completely contradicted the fabricated version it later settled on. In at least one edition of the November 16 paper, a story by Eva Simpson and Caroline Hedley read: "He's back! Michael Jackson was the biggest winner at the awards where he gave his first public performance for nine years. The star was honoured with a Diamond Award for selling more than 100 million albums in his career. Hosted by Lindsay Lohan, the starstudded event at London's Earl's Court saw Jacko give a stunning performance of We Are The World. You sure are, Jacko."
So it would appear that at some point an editorial decision was taken that instead of continuing to report what had actually happened, the newspaper was going to rewrite the night's events to tell the exact opposite of the truth - and several other publications were going to do the same.
It seemed to me that the media had already decided what story it wanted to tell about Michael Jackson's appearance in London - it was just an irritation to them that he hadn't played ball. When his appearance prompted a powerful outpouring of adulation - fans being rushed away in wheelchairs like the tours of his heyday - it didn't suit the industry's preconceived narrative. Certain figures were intent on Jackson being the 'ex-King of Pop'. When Earls Court actually went just as crazy for him as it would have done 20 years prior, it didn't fit - so they simply ignored that inconvenient turn of events and conjured a 'chorus of boos' from thin air. If Jackson wouldn't play his 'ex-King of Pop' role like a good boy, they would attempt to manufacture it. It was classic British tabloid muscle-flexing.
The frustration and the sadness I felt that day when I observed this lie being willfully peddled, and the powerlessness I felt just watching TV presenter after TV presenter, comedian after comedian, recycle the nonsense for the consumption of millions who were not there and would never know it was all made up, bubbles back up whenever I remember the debacle. It was a sorry day for journalism - but the profession has had many of those where Michael Jackson is concerned.
I'm not sure why I've never written anything about it before, but a friend posted a video from the event on Facebook earlier today to mark the anniversary. It was the last time I saw Michael Jackson perform live, but the memory is always tinged with sadness and frustration for what happened in the following days. It's about time somebody set the record straight on this particular fallacy.
Sunday, 29 September 2013
#iGiveAFunk
Last week I had the privilege of interviewing one of my favourite musicians. Bootsy Collins played bass on some of James Brown's funkiest and most dynamic tracks. He then took Mr Brown's philosophy of 'the one' over to George Clinton's Parliament / Funkedelic, where he worked on some of that collective's greatest tunes as well. By the late 70s he had gone solo, recording a raft of classic funk tracks. He has contributed to some of the greatest party anthems and hip-hop tracks of all time. His live shows are some of the most dynamic and exciting you could ever hope to attend.
Right now, Bootsy is running a Kickstarter campaign, where he is giving away signed merchandise and rare memorabelia to anybody who supports his new album and tour - both dubbed 'iGiveAFunk'. The project, inspired by the philanthropic work Bootsy has gained a passion for in recent years - would see him record a 'unity in the community' themed album and then travel the globe delivering its message. The plan was for the Kickstarter to raise $100,000 in 30 days.
Presently, there are three days left of the campaign and Bootsy has raised roughly 30% of his goal. Sadly, it looks unlikely that the project will be successful, short of a miracle. I'm not sure why. Bootsy toured Europe in 2011, playing to packed out venues all across the continent. He has thousands and thousands of fans. As part of his Kickstarter campaign, he is offering a digital pre-order of his new album for just $1. If all of his fans pledged for that alone - and you'd have to be a wally not to, at that price (about 65p in British currency - less than a KitKat bar) - he would meet his target with ease. He seems to have had trouble getting the message out.
I wanted to do the best I could to help him get that message out, so I organised a 40 minute phone interview. During our chat, I expressed my surprise that he needed a Kickstarter campaign in the first place. The comment led to a lengthy discussion about the music industry in general and the way it treats artists. Bootsy told me he was 'one step away from being a starving artist'.
I produced a 2,000 word article based on our conversation, published on my blog at the Yellow Advertiser - one of the largest regional newspapers in the UK. A short news story publicising the online contribution was published in over 100,000 newspapers. How many readers were funk fans, I don't know.
If Bootsy's Kickstarter campaign doesn't prove successful, I hope he will try again but spend a little longer on advance publicity it and give himself a longer fundraising period. I'm sure he has enough fans to help make it happen, just as long as they know about it.
That said, on a personal note, I am a little disappointed that some of Bootsy's more prominent fans haven't made more of an attempt to help him out. Some of today's biggest rappers have built songs around Bootsy's riffs; songs which have helped them become businessmen with globe-spanning, multi-billion dollar operations. Those Bootsy samples they used - he says they just about cover his bills. Snoop Dogg, who used Bootsy on his 2004 album Rhythm & Gangster, is worth a reported $100million. He could probably sponsor Bootsy's entire project without spending more than a few weeks' interest on his bank account.
Below is a 16 minute audio excerpt from our conversation.
Good luck Bootsy. I've already pledged all that I can. I hope you pull it out of the bag somehow. When you eventually do - I'll see you in London!
Click to enlarge.
Bootsy Collins on stage in London, 2011.
(Picture: Charles Thomson)
Bootsy Collins on stage in London, 2011.
(Picture: Charles Thomson)
Right now, Bootsy is running a Kickstarter campaign, where he is giving away signed merchandise and rare memorabelia to anybody who supports his new album and tour - both dubbed 'iGiveAFunk'. The project, inspired by the philanthropic work Bootsy has gained a passion for in recent years - would see him record a 'unity in the community' themed album and then travel the globe delivering its message. The plan was for the Kickstarter to raise $100,000 in 30 days.
Presently, there are three days left of the campaign and Bootsy has raised roughly 30% of his goal. Sadly, it looks unlikely that the project will be successful, short of a miracle. I'm not sure why. Bootsy toured Europe in 2011, playing to packed out venues all across the continent. He has thousands and thousands of fans. As part of his Kickstarter campaign, he is offering a digital pre-order of his new album for just $1. If all of his fans pledged for that alone - and you'd have to be a wally not to, at that price (about 65p in British currency - less than a KitKat bar) - he would meet his target with ease. He seems to have had trouble getting the message out.
I wanted to do the best I could to help him get that message out, so I organised a 40 minute phone interview. During our chat, I expressed my surprise that he needed a Kickstarter campaign in the first place. The comment led to a lengthy discussion about the music industry in general and the way it treats artists. Bootsy told me he was 'one step away from being a starving artist'.
I produced a 2,000 word article based on our conversation, published on my blog at the Yellow Advertiser - one of the largest regional newspapers in the UK. A short news story publicising the online contribution was published in over 100,000 newspapers. How many readers were funk fans, I don't know.
Click to enlarge.
Bootsy Collins on stage in London, 2011.
(Picture: Charles Thomson)
Bootsy Collins on stage in London, 2011.
(Picture: Charles Thomson)
If Bootsy's Kickstarter campaign doesn't prove successful, I hope he will try again but spend a little longer on advance publicity it and give himself a longer fundraising period. I'm sure he has enough fans to help make it happen, just as long as they know about it.
That said, on a personal note, I am a little disappointed that some of Bootsy's more prominent fans haven't made more of an attempt to help him out. Some of today's biggest rappers have built songs around Bootsy's riffs; songs which have helped them become businessmen with globe-spanning, multi-billion dollar operations. Those Bootsy samples they used - he says they just about cover his bills. Snoop Dogg, who used Bootsy on his 2004 album Rhythm & Gangster, is worth a reported $100million. He could probably sponsor Bootsy's entire project without spending more than a few weeks' interest on his bank account.
Below is a 16 minute audio excerpt from our conversation.
Good luck Bootsy. I've already pledged all that I can. I hope you pull it out of the bag somehow. When you eventually do - I'll see you in London!
Monday, 26 August 2013
'The V You Don't See': Dangerous Crushes, Diva Demands and Exclusive Beyoncé Pictures
The allure of the large, outdoor music festival has always eluded me. The few sprawling, open-air gigs I've been to over the years have been rather soulless affairs. The sound is often poor and most of the audience end up watching on TV screens because they can't get anywhere near the stage.
Atmosphere has always been curiously lacking. The visceral experience of a live gig is lost in the expanse of the setting - any funk or soul which may be emanating from the stage seems to just sort of waft away into the sky before it ever reaches anybody beyond about the first 10 rows. Beyond that invisible barrier, the only people having a good time usually appear to be off their faces on drink, drugs or both. My ethos is, and always has been, that if the gig is so crappy you have to be on drugs to enjoy it, why bother going?
Bootsy Collins' road manager had me admitted to the O2 Wireless festival for free in 2008, when Bootsy performed there on his James Brown tribute tour. I only lasted a few hours. I was surrounded by ridiculous hipsters, sporting bow-ties and fluorescent plastic sunglasses frames with no lenses in, and quickly tired of being constantly offered pills by tweaking ravers.
The thought of stretching that experience across two days, adding into the mix a complete lack of showers and only a few hundred increasingly grim portable toilets for comfort, is pretty much my idea of hell.
It is for this reason that despite living only 25 minutes from V Festival - an enormous, two-day, outdoor event which is screened every year on Channel 4 - I have never even considered going. The line-up has never excited me, the tickets are incredibly expensive and the entire thing just sounded exhausting.
It was an amusing twist of fate, therefore, that this year I was awarded a V Festival press pass. It was one of seven that was allocated to my newspaper after it agreed to publish a 12-page commemorative pull-out about the event. I had to think long and hard about whether or not I wanted to go. I was leaning towards 'not', but my editor was proposing a fantastic journalistic exercise; a photographer covering every act on the main stage and six reporters roving around the event, interviewing crowd members, reviewing acts, collecting amusing news items and blogging about their firsthand experiences. I told him that if he needed me there, I would be there.
To recount the entire weekend would take a lot of time and a lot of words. What I will say is this: It was an eye-opener. Our press passes gave us almost complete access to the festival; the right to use staff entrances and exits, free entry to a garden full of celebrities, and a fleet of airport buggies to ferry us wherever we wanted to go. Despite this, it was about as unglamorous an experience as you could imagine (even if we did have our own luxury toilets).
Being backstage gave us almost zero access to celebrities, but full knowledge of all their ridiculous diva demands. For instance, Beyoncé - upset by some unflattering pictures taken of her at the Superbowl - banned all photographers from taking pictures in front of the stage (the only act across the entire two-day, five-stage festival to make such a demand) and forced them to take pictures from about 100 yards away. She - along with Jessie J - also forced photographers to sign away the syndication rights to all of their photographs, preventing them from earning any money from their own work.
A band called The Heavy demanded that their agent personally approve every single picture taken during their performance before they could be published. Photographers boycotted them as a result, meaning they got no coverage at all - so it's fair to say that particular celebrity whinge backfired somewhat. Elsewhere, nobody was allowed to move (literally) in the backstage area when Beyoncé decided to leave her dressing room - and journalists were told off in a press area for looking at UK pop singer Olly Murs.
I documented much of this insanity in a pair of blog posts. In the first, I described almost being injured in a dangerous crush ahead of Beyoncé's performance. I was compelled to write the piece after witnessing dozens of fans being pulled from the squeeze either in tears or barely conscious. In my personal opinion, unless organisers find some way to prevent this from happening in years to come, it is only a matter of time until somebody is seriously injured.
In the second blog post, I recounted the farcical incident in which I and other journalists were reprimanded for looking at singer Olly Murs in the Media Garden.
After the crush on the first night, I swore I would never return. My stance has since softened slightly, although if I do ever go back, it certainly won't be as a paying customer (caveats, such as a headline slot by Prince, may apply).
At the end of the second day, my news editor asked me what had been my festival highlight. I really struggled to think of anything. I had enjoyed some acts - The Stereophonics, Laura Mvula - but none had left me especially excited and overall, it had been an exhausting and slightly disturbing experience.
Then, it suddenly came to me; my highlight had been writing about it. For all the craziness - the frustration at the celebrities' outrageous demands, the dangerous crushing in the crowds, the audience teeming with drunken and possibly drugged lunatics - it had been fantastic to have that unique combination; enough access to know about the backstage madness and enough freedom to write about it. Traditional media outlets never write about that stuff. They're scared to be critical in case they jeopardise their access to free tickets the following year. I, conversely, didn't give two hoots whether I was ever invited back again, so I laid it all out for the reader; showed them - as we later coined it in the news room - 'The V You Don't See'. I got a lot of comments on Facebook and Twitter which suggested to me that people had enjoyed reading about the hidden side of music festivals and what it's really like backstage.
If I do go back next year, it will be with a view to producing more of the same.
I took a lot of photos at the festival, which didn't get used anywhere - so this blog is going to serve as a sort of V Festival Scrapbook. Enjoy.
The Calm Before The Storm
The Gates Open
James
The Comedy Tent - Josh Widdecombe and Shappi Khorsandi
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Beyoncé
Seasick Steve and Olly Murs spotted in the Media Garden
Laura Mvula
Emile Sandé
Stereophonics
Kings of Leon
Atmosphere has always been curiously lacking. The visceral experience of a live gig is lost in the expanse of the setting - any funk or soul which may be emanating from the stage seems to just sort of waft away into the sky before it ever reaches anybody beyond about the first 10 rows. Beyond that invisible barrier, the only people having a good time usually appear to be off their faces on drink, drugs or both. My ethos is, and always has been, that if the gig is so crappy you have to be on drugs to enjoy it, why bother going?
Bootsy Collins' road manager had me admitted to the O2 Wireless festival for free in 2008, when Bootsy performed there on his James Brown tribute tour. I only lasted a few hours. I was surrounded by ridiculous hipsters, sporting bow-ties and fluorescent plastic sunglasses frames with no lenses in, and quickly tired of being constantly offered pills by tweaking ravers.
The thought of stretching that experience across two days, adding into the mix a complete lack of showers and only a few hundred increasingly grim portable toilets for comfort, is pretty much my idea of hell.
It is for this reason that despite living only 25 minutes from V Festival - an enormous, two-day, outdoor event which is screened every year on Channel 4 - I have never even considered going. The line-up has never excited me, the tickets are incredibly expensive and the entire thing just sounded exhausting.
It was an amusing twist of fate, therefore, that this year I was awarded a V Festival press pass. It was one of seven that was allocated to my newspaper after it agreed to publish a 12-page commemorative pull-out about the event. I had to think long and hard about whether or not I wanted to go. I was leaning towards 'not', but my editor was proposing a fantastic journalistic exercise; a photographer covering every act on the main stage and six reporters roving around the event, interviewing crowd members, reviewing acts, collecting amusing news items and blogging about their firsthand experiences. I told him that if he needed me there, I would be there.
To recount the entire weekend would take a lot of time and a lot of words. What I will say is this: It was an eye-opener. Our press passes gave us almost complete access to the festival; the right to use staff entrances and exits, free entry to a garden full of celebrities, and a fleet of airport buggies to ferry us wherever we wanted to go. Despite this, it was about as unglamorous an experience as you could imagine (even if we did have our own luxury toilets).
Being backstage gave us almost zero access to celebrities, but full knowledge of all their ridiculous diva demands. For instance, Beyoncé - upset by some unflattering pictures taken of her at the Superbowl - banned all photographers from taking pictures in front of the stage (the only act across the entire two-day, five-stage festival to make such a demand) and forced them to take pictures from about 100 yards away. She - along with Jessie J - also forced photographers to sign away the syndication rights to all of their photographs, preventing them from earning any money from their own work.
A band called The Heavy demanded that their agent personally approve every single picture taken during their performance before they could be published. Photographers boycotted them as a result, meaning they got no coverage at all - so it's fair to say that particular celebrity whinge backfired somewhat. Elsewhere, nobody was allowed to move (literally) in the backstage area when Beyoncé decided to leave her dressing room - and journalists were told off in a press area for looking at UK pop singer Olly Murs.
I documented much of this insanity in a pair of blog posts. In the first, I described almost being injured in a dangerous crush ahead of Beyoncé's performance. I was compelled to write the piece after witnessing dozens of fans being pulled from the squeeze either in tears or barely conscious. In my personal opinion, unless organisers find some way to prevent this from happening in years to come, it is only a matter of time until somebody is seriously injured.
In the second blog post, I recounted the farcical incident in which I and other journalists were reprimanded for looking at singer Olly Murs in the Media Garden.
After the crush on the first night, I swore I would never return. My stance has since softened slightly, although if I do ever go back, it certainly won't be as a paying customer (caveats, such as a headline slot by Prince, may apply).
At the end of the second day, my news editor asked me what had been my festival highlight. I really struggled to think of anything. I had enjoyed some acts - The Stereophonics, Laura Mvula - but none had left me especially excited and overall, it had been an exhausting and slightly disturbing experience.
Then, it suddenly came to me; my highlight had been writing about it. For all the craziness - the frustration at the celebrities' outrageous demands, the dangerous crushing in the crowds, the audience teeming with drunken and possibly drugged lunatics - it had been fantastic to have that unique combination; enough access to know about the backstage madness and enough freedom to write about it. Traditional media outlets never write about that stuff. They're scared to be critical in case they jeopardise their access to free tickets the following year. I, conversely, didn't give two hoots whether I was ever invited back again, so I laid it all out for the reader; showed them - as we later coined it in the news room - 'The V You Don't See'. I got a lot of comments on Facebook and Twitter which suggested to me that people had enjoyed reading about the hidden side of music festivals and what it's really like backstage.
If I do go back next year, it will be with a view to producing more of the same.
I took a lot of photos at the festival, which didn't get used anywhere - so this blog is going to serve as a sort of V Festival Scrapbook. Enjoy.
The Calm Before The Storm
The Gates Open
James
The Comedy Tent - Josh Widdecombe and Shappi Khorsandi
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Beyoncé
Seasick Steve and Olly Murs spotted in the Media Garden
Laura Mvula
Emile Sandé
Stereophonics
Kings of Leon
Wednesday, 23 January 2013
Black By Design
I had the chance recently to interview Pauline Black, lead singer of 80s two-tone pop group The Selecter. Pauline is appearing at a local library as part of an upcoming book festival to discuss her memoir, Black By Design. In anticipation of the interview I got hold of a copy and found it to be a fascinating window on Britain in the 1950s.
Pauline grew up as a dark-skinned, mixed-race girl in Romford at a time when it was unusual to see a black person in the area - circumstances that will be inconceivable to anyone who has only known Romford within the last few decades. Adopted by a white family, she was the only black pupil at her school.
Her book details the racist abuse she suffered, how she became politicised by the music of James Brown and the writings of Malcolm X and, quite movingly, the sexual abuse she suffered as a pre-pubescent girl - plus all the sorts of backstage exploits you'd expect from a music industry memoir.
She spoke frankly about all of these things in our interview, as well as touching on recent child abuse scandals and discussing the racial climate in Britain today - particularly in relation to the the London 2011 riots.
Here's a copy of the piece as it went into the paper.
Pauline grew up as a dark-skinned, mixed-race girl in Romford at a time when it was unusual to see a black person in the area - circumstances that will be inconceivable to anyone who has only known Romford within the last few decades. Adopted by a white family, she was the only black pupil at her school.
Her book details the racist abuse she suffered, how she became politicised by the music of James Brown and the writings of Malcolm X and, quite movingly, the sexual abuse she suffered as a pre-pubescent girl - plus all the sorts of backstage exploits you'd expect from a music industry memoir.
She spoke frankly about all of these things in our interview, as well as touching on recent child abuse scandals and discussing the racial climate in Britain today - particularly in relation to the the London 2011 riots.
Here's a copy of the piece as it went into the paper.
(Click to enlarge)
Friday, 28 September 2012
"I had Michael Jackson on my knee at 10 years old!"
One of the best things about my job is that it brings me into contact with a lot of interesting people - from Lords of the land to legends of the music industry. Last week brought me into contact with one of the latter - former Temptations singer Richard Street.
Richard, who will be 70 years old next week, is currently on an extended UK tour and will soon roll up in Essex. As such, I managed to wangle a 40-minute telephone interview to promote his upcoming gig. During our chat he told me an extremely condensed version of his life story - and it was truly inspiring.
Richard's story could have been far less inspiring. It could have been deeply tragic. In fact, he could have become Motown's answer to the Fifth Beatle - for in the early 1960s, after having been a member of Detroit vocal group The Distants for a number of years, Richard was forced to quit the band in order to help support his mother. Months after he left, the Distants were signed to Motown and rechristened the Temptations. As his former bandmates shot to fame, Richard worked in a nightclub.
But, determined not to be left behind, Richard soon found his way into Motown, invited by producer friend Norman Whitfield to join the company's quality control department. There his job was to listen to all the artists' cuts for any flaws in the recordings. If he found any, they were re-recorded. If he didn't, they were passed to Berry Gordy and the other label heads, who would decide which were worthy of release.
The job also brought Richard into contact with the label's stars, from former girlfriend Diana Ross to future King of Pop Michael Jackson, who Richard recalled mentoring and playing basketball with.
By the early 1970s, Richard had worked his way back into the Temptations, just in time to record what would become their most critically acclaimed song: triple-Grammy winner Papa Was A Rolling Stone. He and his bandmates went on to win several American Music Awards and were later inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Editing for newspapers is a ruthless business. The article has to be chopped until it fits into the space available on the page. As such, my 40-minute interview was trimmed to just 600 words. Perhaps I will upload an extended cut onto my website soon. In the meantime, though, here's the published version. Click to enlarge.
Click here to add comments.
Richard, who will be 70 years old next week, is currently on an extended UK tour and will soon roll up in Essex. As such, I managed to wangle a 40-minute telephone interview to promote his upcoming gig. During our chat he told me an extremely condensed version of his life story - and it was truly inspiring.
Richard's story could have been far less inspiring. It could have been deeply tragic. In fact, he could have become Motown's answer to the Fifth Beatle - for in the early 1960s, after having been a member of Detroit vocal group The Distants for a number of years, Richard was forced to quit the band in order to help support his mother. Months after he left, the Distants were signed to Motown and rechristened the Temptations. As his former bandmates shot to fame, Richard worked in a nightclub.
But, determined not to be left behind, Richard soon found his way into Motown, invited by producer friend Norman Whitfield to join the company's quality control department. There his job was to listen to all the artists' cuts for any flaws in the recordings. If he found any, they were re-recorded. If he didn't, they were passed to Berry Gordy and the other label heads, who would decide which were worthy of release.
The job also brought Richard into contact with the label's stars, from former girlfriend Diana Ross to future King of Pop Michael Jackson, who Richard recalled mentoring and playing basketball with.
By the early 1970s, Richard had worked his way back into the Temptations, just in time to record what would become their most critically acclaimed song: triple-Grammy winner Papa Was A Rolling Stone. He and his bandmates went on to win several American Music Awards and were later inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
Editing for newspapers is a ruthless business. The article has to be chopped until it fits into the space available on the page. As such, my 40-minute interview was trimmed to just 600 words. Perhaps I will upload an extended cut onto my website soon. In the meantime, though, here's the published version. Click to enlarge.
Click here to add comments.
Friday, 17 February 2012
Third Jermaine Jackson Audio Extract
In this extract, Jermaine speaks to me about racism in the music industry, and what role he believes music publishing played in his brother's demise:
Sunday, 3 July 2011
RE:Discovered - The Marvelettes, 'Strange I Know'
Just a quick note to let you know that the new edition of Wax Poetics is on stands right now and includes a one page article in the RE:Discovered section by yours truly, all about the too-often forgotten Marvelettes hit 'Strange I Know'. Copies can also be ordered from the official Wax Poetics website.
Sunday, 29 May 2011
More influential than the Beatles; Meet George Clinton
Picture: James Newman
"Do a search for the greatest rock bands of all time and you won't see mention of Parliament-Funkadelic. I know that rock critics like to fight over whether the Rolling Stones or the Beatles deserve the number one spot but in my eyes neither of them can hold a candle to what P-Funk brought to the music. As far as I'm concerned, P-Funk rocked harder than all of them combined... It's funny that the greatest rock group is always assumed to be white."André Torres - Editor-in-Chief, Wax Poetics
News of George Clinton's hospitalisation shocked music lovers around the world this week but perhaps none more so than me, for the hospitalisation came just days after I enjoyed a 75-minute interview with George, during which he seemed to be perfectly fine.
Alarm bells sounded among funk fans after Bootsy Collins reported the news on his facebook page and asked his followers to pray for George Clinton's recovery. Fortunately the hospitalisation wasn't too serious - a staph infection was discovered in George's leg as he underwent a routine check-up. He's already checked out and is now busy preparing to embark on yet another international concert tour.
The level of media interest was surprising given that George Clinton is one of the most unsung music pioneers still walking among us. Fusing the hard funk of James Brown with the psychedelic edge of Sly and the Family Stone and the blistering rock of Jimi Hendrix, George and his group Parliament-Funkadelic cultivated a groundbreaking sound.
According to Rolling Stone their output, which "[mixed] funk polyrhythms, psychedelic guitar, jazzy horns [and] vocal-group harmonies" was "some of pop's most adventurous music of the Seventies." Their unique sound ultimately laid the foundations for much of the hip-hop that now dominates the musical landscape.
Despite achieving three platinum albums, Parliament-Funkadelic never quite reached chart blockbuster status. Nonetheless, their danceable beats and affirmative lyrics resonated with a huge audience and today they're considered one of the most influential groups of the last century.
Flourishing in the early 1970s, P-Funk's music was often laced with political commentary but delivered it in a far less divisive way than 1960s protest songs like James Brown's 'Say It Loud, I'm Black And I'm Proud'. Instead the tunes often focused on music as a uniting factor. P-Funk sang of 'One Nation Under A Groove'. Music could make barriers melt away into insignificance; 'Free Your Mind And Your Ass Will Follow' read their 1970 album cover.
Even the compositions were about unity. When Bootsy Collins migrated to P-Funk from James Brown's revue he brought with him the concept of 'the one': the one-and-three beat Brown popularised during the 1960s and early 1970s. "When everybody's playing it in unison instead of harmony, it's as one," George said in 2010. "That's strong... It's in unison so it's like it'll be around forever. It's in your genes... Then we're all together as one... The entity of one as a life form - as life. One DNA. I'm for you, you for me. We for trees and we for the planet."
In a stroke of genius, Clinton devised a distinct, space-age image with which the band's music became synonymous. Dressed in otherworldly costumes and starring in comic strips on their album artwork, the group presented themselves as a band of black superheroes - an empowering and cutting edge move so far ahead of its time, in fact, that we're now halfway into 2011 and there's still never been a major movie about a black superhero (bar Hancock, in which the black superhero was an inept drunkard).
By fusing searing social commentary with radio-friendly grooves and comic book imagery, Clinton and his band were able to rail against social ills in a non-threatening way. Clinton's ideology crept past the same DJs who dropped James Brown from their playlists when he released 'Say It Loud'. 'Cosmic Slop' became a club smash, filling dancefloors all over America, despite telling the story of a woman who becomes a prostitute to feed her children.
Combining their pioneering funk-rock fusion and their distinctive visual presentation, P-Funk enjoyed enormous success as a touring act, selling out stadiums throughout the 1970s with an elaborate concert experience in which Clinton would descend in a million-dollar spaceship to bestow the gift of funk upon his audience. That spaceship - the mothership - has now been acquired by the Smithsonian.
Often dismissed as clownish figures at the height of their fame, in more recent years George Clinton and P-Funk have been acknowledged as some of the most respected and influential musicians of all time. From Prince to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers (who recruited George in 1985 to produce and write for their album 'Freaky Styley') a lot of the biggest acts to have emerged since the early 1980s have cited P-Funk as one of their greatest influences. In 1997 the group was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and in 2009 George was handed the BMI Icon Award.
P-Funk's influence on several generations of hip-hop musicians is self-evident in the number of times their music has been sampled, which runs into the thousands. In fact, P-Funk are thought to be the second most sampled act of all time, beaten only by James Brown. Academic Vladimir Gutkovich has described them as "the key predecessor of hip-hop music."
Indeed, there is a very strong argument to be made that George and P-Funk have had more impact on the contemporary musical landscape than even the Beatles. Wax Poetics editor André Torres wrote in 2006:
"While most critics want to put the holy trinity [Beatles, Stones, Zeppelin] on a pedestal, with the world domination of hip-hop culture and the large role that P-Funk has played in the sound of hip-hop, I dare say that P-Funk's impact can be felt much more strongly thirty years later than that of those three bands. When I asked Dr Dre, the quintessential post-modern producer who has changed the course of pop music three times in two decades, who he listened to growing up and was his biggest influence, he said P-Funk. Not the Beatles."
Presently, though, George is troubled. While his pioneering music continues to form the basis for so much contemporary output, he's getting the props but he's not getting the cash. Like many black musicians of his era, he was hoodwinked by the very music industry figures who were supposed to be looking out for his best interests.
George's financial problems began in the 1980s and have continued on-and-off ever since. In 2005 a court ruled that a man called Armen Boladian had forged George's signature on numerous documents in order to falsely assert ownership of some of George's masters. The masters in question were returned to George but Boladian still controls much of the P-Funk catalogue and George contests his ownership of those masters too.
George's investigations into the corporate skullduggery around him and his music have turned up what could be one of the biggest known conspiracies in the history of the music business. His losses over the last 25 years or so could total as much as $100million. Just one sample can be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars and George is one of the most sampled artists in music history. For more than two decades artists have been paying for the rights to sample his work and that money has been landing straight into other people's bank accounts. But the injustice doesn't even end there.
His albums hop labels when he's not looking. At an album signing a few years ago a fan handed him a CD he'd released on Sony and he noticed that instead of saying 'Sony' on the artwork, it said 'Westbound'. He'd never sanctioned nor profited from this apparent re-release. Somebody else was getting paid for it. There's more, too.
Type George's name into iTunes and you'll notice that a lot of his tracks show up as having been written by 'George S. Clinton'. That's not George Clinton. Every time you buy one of those tracks, somebody else gets paid for it.
During a recent trip to the US Copyright Office, arranged by Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee, George discovered documents showing that his songs had been repeatedly re-registered without his knowledge or permission, with original songwriters missing and new songwriters added.
Deceased P-Funk members' catalogues had been re-registered as though they were still alive, years after they passed away. At one point somebody went to NYC to re-register George's entire catalogue in one hit. George has even obtained a signed declaration from a man who says he was paid thousands of dollars to pretend he'd written some of George's material.
George's legal disputes are ongoing with no resolution in sight. The scale of the battle facing George is almost beyond comprehension. It could take years to unpick - meanwhile, other people continue to profit from his record sales and samples.
Outside of this troubling issue, though, George remains upbeat. At 69-years-old, he is appalled by the mere mention of retirement. He plays roughly 200 gigs every year and is horrified by the idea of stopping. He loves gigging and the proceeds allow him to pursue his often overlooked humanitarian efforts. Just last year he was involved in fundraising efforts for Haiti and donated 25% of all future P-Funk royalties to the Barrack Obama Green Charter High School in his home town of Plainfield, New Jersey.
During our interview we also covered more emotional topics. In the last year and a half he has lost his son and his mother, as well as P-Funk bandmates Garry Shider and Phelps 'Catfish' Collins. He told me how getting onstage 200 nights a year and spreading his positive message helps him to cope with the loss. He also spoke candidly about the aging process, his periods of drug abuse and checking into rehab with Sly Stone, with whom he's recently been in the studio working on new music.
There was more positive chat, too, including discussion of a planned Motown album and a flash drive in the shape of George's hand, the finger of which will plug into your home computer giving access to almost every track the group has ever recorded, including demos and live recordings.
Despite this week's health scare, George is still very much alive and kicking. He works constantly in the studio down the street from his home and is about to embark on a grueling concert tour around America and Europe. These aren't rigid, untaxing oldies gigs either. P-Funk gigs are perhaps the best value for money around. George and the band routinely play for three hours or more and the shows often consist of long improvisations. No two gigs are the same.
In the background George is relentlessly pursuing years of unpaid royalties for himself and his P-Funk collaborators as well as restored ownership of his masters. He also intends to start a legal fund for artists facing similar copyright problems and has agreed to give lessons at the Barrack Obama Green Charter High School, teaching music students how to avoid getting ripped off in the same way. So fear not, funkateers - it's going to take a lot more than a staph infection to slow him down.
For news on the publication of my interview with George Clinton, keep an eye on my blog. For details of George's upcoming gigs, click here.
Charles Thomson and George Clinton at the Indigo2, 2007
Picture: James Newman
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