Crow’s Nest 45: 010223
Monday of the Intellect, Sunday of the Will
Hello, and welcome to issue #45 of Crow’s Nest. Happy New Year to you if you celebrate that. I like a decent house party for that, but the rest … I think Gramsci might have said it best. I’ve spent a lot of the time since the last issue waiting to get past the holidays and get going on the sort of stuff that I want to switch up about my life and all, which December often crowds out. That’s probably manifested to some degree in the amount of words and content below on this issue, I’m sure.
No New Year’s list(s) from me, I am still working through end of year stuff and, for me, with a bunch of stresses coming up in December it seems like a futile attention-seeking endeavor. Blame Gramsci above or me being a Capricorn born between Xmas and NYE for that if you must. I actually just listened to something from November for the first time yesterday that, if I did make a list, would have wound up on it. It’s below; you’ll have to guess which one it is though.
Lengthy essay to start this one as I have been bored at work and all that recently. Probably an issue record for the amount of music below too, you know my deal.
If you are at least broadly similar to me in that you follow the ‘behind the scenes’ side of the live music industry to a reasonable degree, you’re probably well aware it has had an exceptionally weird ‘new normal’ since live mass entertainment resumed following pandemic shutdowns. The expenses of touring have increased significantly since 2020, and many artists—Animal Collective, Santigold and Little Simz immediately spring to mind—have cancelled tours, openly citing the inability to make their numbers work.
While no 2 acts’ finances are the same, Shawn Reynaldo of dance music newsletter First Floor has documented some of most frequent issues as of late, in now-paywalled essays. There are many pain points for this process—seemingly everything that can be in pain in this realm is—but a chief culprit on the consumer side of things, or seemingly a primary driver of these issues in my opinion, is an increased volatility in ticket sales since reopening.
Gauging the true popularity of an artist is more an art than a science; I’m deeply in love with some groups who struggle to fill small bars, and have also been blindsided to see marginal (to me) acts play big rooms in that ‘where the fuck did all these people come from?’ way. This is in part, I would say, that my listening habits do not align with your average listener, for sure. It’s also likely a distortion caused by algorithmic, passive streaming/playlisting of certain artists: these streams may suggest attention, stats-wise, like buying a CD or digital download had previously, but the relationship is often substantially weaker. A wallpaper-y background stream from a mood playlist does not equate to active engagement with an artist like previous modes of music consumption do, yet artists rely on that information when making business decisions. Underestimating venue attendance is not good in that leaving money on the table, in terms of potential ticket/merch sales for the band, is bad, though consistently selling out tours likely generates more hype than getting near capacity in bigger rooms. At the same time, overestimating can also be bad particularly as most venues (unfortunately, in my opinion) rely on bar sales to actually make money on the evening.
Think about how a even the smallest non-DIY venue still needs at least a door guy, tickets person, 2+ bartenders, a sound person, likely a lighting person, custodian, manager, and probably at least 2 other people doing non-security things my inexperienced self can’t think of. You can see how, even if most of those staff are making close to minimum wage, a room full of $10-20 ticket buyers is likely only making money off of booze’s margins. As the artists I noted above are reputable, professional acts who aren’t cramming everything into a loaner van and couch surfing between sets, it should be obvious that the increased production standards expected in playing larger venues, and consequent higher staffing and costs, does not guarantee fiscal stability. While most of the spaces I follow are not openly on the verge of closing due to poor business, and deep down most acts know they won’t strike it rich in this line of business, I have seen signs of desperation to get people in the door and, hopefully, to the bar and merch booth, including:
2-for-1 and 4-for-3 ticket sales offers
15-20% off ticket sales
A free extra ticket to the show if you already bought a pair
Free entry for you and a +1 before the first act if you show the email announcing this
None of that inspires confidence in the venues’ respective fiscal healths.
To say consumption habits have changed since early 2020 and not returned to something recognizably similar to pre-pandemic behavior is obvious. On my own personal level, I no longer find myself as inclined to head out to shows halfway across the city like I did before, whether on a whim because the show seems intriguing for a cheap door price, or by buying tickets in advance. I’d rather wait and see how I’m feeling closer to the show—perhaps day-of—if the show would be good for my life balance, if the weather’s gonna suck and I might need to schlep through some shit to get there, etc.
Another post-pandemic issue is increasing numbers of ‘no shows’, people who do buy tickets but don’t attend for some reason. I’ve done that a few times after making conflicting plans or being too under the weather to go and unable to flip my ticket, including when I had COVID last April. Some people who have bought tickets straight up forget to attend the show that day. Or they want to go, but get spooked by the thought of being in a crowd, and potentially getting hurt during the show, or sick after. Back to me on a personal level, I find myself wondering if I want to get a ticket in advance to many a show, knowing it will be cheaper at the door with no fees—or that even if prices rise the day of show, they’re about the same as the lower advance ticket price after fees—or that I may not want or be able to go weeks or months from now. Sure, the money in that ticket is helpful to the venue and band, but if I’m not there I’m not buying drinks or t-shirts to truly support the others financially.
Some of that is probably me getting older, another is me not wanting to spend another like $100 total or so on food before or after, drinks there, maybe some merch, and a ride share or cab back even if I took public transit there, all for a night out I may or may not actually enjoy. Especially now that we’re at the point where venues have been reopened longer than they were shut down, and many touring acts are back in town for at least the 2nd or 3rd time in the previous 12 months, my enthusiasm wanes further. Do I even want to see someone for the first time like Santigold when that really isn’t a novelty by any stretch? If a show sells out before I grab a ticket, I’m disappointed I didn’t get in, yes, but I also find myself rationalizing it away since it’s a sign I didn’t want to go that badly. I can always spend that evening getting high on my couch instead.
For slightly younger fans—I identify as a young millennial even though I think the divide with Zoomers is overexaggerated—they may not have developed nightlife habits like mine pre-pandemic. I recently got drinks with a friend from college and her younger 24-year old sibling. The sibling, learning I’m into dance music, peppered me with basic questions about getting into it more, asking about venues, where and how to learn about acts they might be interested in, and was openly was taking notes on things I mentioned like Resident Advisor and Spybar. No judgment there: no one is born knowing how to go clubbing and we all need to start somewhere; they had an itinerant childhood, went to college in non-urban Texas, and are new to Chicago; and, as Reynaldo has written about, pandemic disruptions meant that vast swathes of Zoomers lack the same exposure to and formative experiences from live music and nightlife that people like me have had, once I could slip away from my parents.
I don’t mean to make this an essay complaining about kids these days. There are definitely meritworthy complaints from scene elders about young people’s behavior—which Reynaldo has documented in those paywalled essays—ruining the vibe with their TikToks or loudmouthed, explanatory basic conversations, or having garish/shitty taste. (Maybe not the last one as much, but I’m at peace not being into jungle.) I’ve definitely wanted to tell some people to act like they’ve been here before, or pejoratively call them 19 as a way of indicating that I know that they don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about.
At the same time, those are all also signs of the failures of promoters and those scene veterans to reach newcomers where they are and come up with something that gets them off their phones and onto the dance floor. As much as I may dislike DePaul undergrads breathlessly reading an upcoming events flyer out loud while waiting to get in to smartbar, I also dislike the exclusionary, all-black everything, culturally homogenized view of dance music that treats Berghain like Temple Mount. My friend’s sibling is exactly the sort of person who should be making their mark on the world of underground dance music culture right now, and they’re not sure where to get started with things.
I think it’s important to situate this in terms of the bigger economic picture. Inflation is high, and interest rates have risen in an attempt to cool down economic growth and reduce inflation. These increases have impacted speculative investments especially, most notably collapsing multiple major cryptocurrency exchanges and triggering layoffs at Big Tech companies. No one is sure whether the U.S. is in a recession or not, though few seem particularly sunny about the near-to-mid term economic outlook. I’m probably no closer to getting on the property ladder than I was when I started renting my current apartment pre-pandemic.
In terms of concert tickets, the cultural homogenization driving the ever-increasing popularity of only a handful of acts, alongside Ticketmaster’s dynamic pricing initiatives being pretty openly price gouging, prices for seeing major artists like Taylor Swift and Blink-182 have increased even more than that of a gin & tonic and Uber home at the end of the night for a show in a smaller space. For many consumers, if they are able to afford to see their favorite artist (and I want to emphasize the singular artist there), they may not have the money to go out to other shows. Country artist Zach Bryan made this explicit in his recent Christmas Eve anti-Ticketmaster post, that his working-class [emphasis his] fans were paying $450/ticket to see him. Beyond that price being in and of itself fucked up, it’s clear how those prices are negatively affecting the rest of the leisure economy. While, as I noted above, going out for me is largely a personal choice in whether I want to (spend that money), I do have friends and acquaintances whose finances only allow for one night out a month. That certainly doesn’t help smaller rooms’ bottom lines.
And yet, unemployment remains low and, while many consumers are finding their finances stretched in many ways, they’re still working and making ends meet. This somewhat confounding piece of information suggests America is still at or near full employment at the time of writing. As the writer Alex Pareene noted last April, full employment is good news. But it’s spun as bad vis a vis inflation and the perception of labor shortages, as there is no longer as big a surplus of un(der)employed labor underbidding one another to get some piece of service or gig economy work. This, along with the Federal Reserve keeping the cost of borrowing money low to encourage riskier capital investments during the long post-Great Recession recovery, which in turn subsidized things like rideshare prices, kept inflation low and prices stable.
As Pareene notes, you’d be sheepish to admit that the post-Great Recession economy—which was pretty objectively bad as a whole—might have been good for you if you had a stable white collar job—that your ass was being catered to on the cheap. If that was the case, it isn’t for you, now, even though it’s better for those lower on the economic ladder who are getting paid better or can more easily transition into a better work environment. Though I knew that these pre-pandemic conditions were a precarious house of cards bound to collapse at some point, it still stings to adjust to this picture. And considering the gains by the precariat workers has not made them, generally, stable urban yuppies, that means the masses are not flush with cash to support the arts now. Inflation still affects everyone.
I don’t, exactly, have a solution for any of this in the broader scheme of things or as relates to concerts more generally. I had a flash idea come to mind which inspired this essay of some type of ticket deposit scheme where, if you are waffling on a ticket, you could put down an amount like $5 or $10 to ‘hold’ the ticket and, closer to the show date or sell-out, be prompted to fully purchase the ticket or forfeit it, maybe getting a refund of that amount or like a drink ticket at the door if you go. That may help venues better set expectations for their shows and provide more accurate data than social media stats, but I’m not sure the logistical complications are worth it and, you know, it would be better to have an accurate prediction on crowd size before an inappropriately-sized venue is booked to begin with.
What seems clear to me, whether you’re a frequent concertgoer who considers a 1,000-capacity venue a big room or you just wanna see Taylor Swift live without taking on a 4-figure debt, there’s one explicit target to be taken down and a more hazy figure to tackle: Ticketmaster and inequality, respectively. Ticketmaster’s monopolization of large-scale event ticketing has been disastrous for consumers’ pocketbooks. No industry with genuine competition could get away with things like dynamically rising prices on products purchased minutes ago, along with bullshit like the so-called ‘convenience fee’. Especially as we prepare for legislative gridlock at the federal level in Congress with the Republicans taking over the House, finally taking on and dismantling Ticketmaster might be one of the best things Democrats and progressives could do to demonstrate the good their policies can do.
The other side of this goes beyond ticket sales and my own personal preferences. Inequality at large is at the root of what I’ve described above. Having $100 to spend on a night out once or twice a week, or, within reason, spending some hundreds more for an exceptional event, should not be a rarity amongst my peers. Established artists should not be wondering if there’ll be enough people actually in the crowd to keep their books balanced. The same with the venue hoping the dollars of markup in a drink will allow them to open their doors for the next act scheduled to roll in. Zoom out beyond this economic sector—another major area of inequality in the U.S., health care, is beyond the scope of my writing—and the benefits to tackling inequality are manifold.
I’m not familiar with Zach Bryan’s politics—I’m not saying a contemporary country artist loudly railing about the plight of his working class fans isn’t a two-faced hypocrite looking to sell them out for personal gain, I just don’t know whether he’s politically more a Willie Nelson or Kid Rock—but assuming his grievances are genuine, it seems proof of how popular a left-wing populist political and economic agenda tackling inequality could be if we could harness this outrage into positive action. Hopefully long-lasting benefits can be extracted beyond lower ticket prices and more (and better) nights out.
There’s always a sense I get when I go a decent stretch without coming across something iconic or worth listening to constantly that I might be done or washed as a listener, that new music may no longer be for me, that it’s time to give up the searching I do or become set in my ways. And then, just one song I’m hearing for the first time is executed so well, that I feel compelled to work my way through the band’s back catalog in anticipation of the new record. I was in the same boat for Tropical Fuck Storm on this before that first listen to ‘Paradise’ off of Braindrops, so surely this feeling is genuine.
Listening to the titular track on their upcoming record, Paris’s En Attendant Ana weren’t an unknown group for me, but the masterful sense of Stereolab meets the Decemberists longing and interlocking jangle got me. Trying to compare this record to their previous 3 feels a bit premature, the momentum on the earlier records is more Electrelane meets Fear of Men than this, and Principia lacks a horn part that complements the earlier records. Not that a statelier pace is bad. At the same time there are another 9 songs I’ve yet to hear, and ‘Paradise’ beared little resemblance to ‘Who’s My Eugene’ per my earlier comparison. As En Attendant Ana are signed to local powerhouse Trouble In Mind, I can only hope a stop at somewhere like Sleeping Village or the Empty Bottle is coming soon for them too. Only 7 more weeks before the full album drops!
If you’d asked me to guess where this band is located, I would’ve guessed Manchester. Leeds as the second guess since there’s obvious debts to Gang of Four and Drahla here. So while department. resides on the opposite end of the globe (Melbourne), considering Australia’s own political hostility to immigration means the thematic similarities as groups in England’s North West are understandable. Bass-heavy post-punk riffage abounds in this album which, even for any saturation in the genre you might have, seems quite slept-on given the number of buyers. Then again with a band and album name like that they’re not exactly beating the iconoclast accusations.
For something a bit more sonically typical of the land down under, Delivery have their debut album out on Anti Fade/Feel It for you to intake. The thrills within seem analogous to the album art, and are more janglier than department. Devo-esque synth punk and a similarly skewed outlook within. I’m reminded of Uranium Club in their synth work and some of the odder, noisier grooves this quintet lock into. I probably like this more than department. atm but I’m not rewriting the order in this issue for that. In case the sound isn’t ramshackle enough for you, the Anti Fade version includes demos of the entire album and more to enhance the volume of your package.
The Cube of Unknowing certainly sounds like a SF&F item in some series I should be at least moderately aware of. What I do know is this set of work out of County Galway is full of cosmic synths, krautrockin’ beats and tension, modular synth excursions, and more of the kind of murk I love, this time out via Seattle’s Eiderdown Records. Dive in and (un)learn more within.
One of the beauties of the world is the ingenuity with which technology can be repurposed by those outside the socioeconomic milieu they originate in. Musically, the Roland drum machines come to mind most easily, but that includes communication technologies as well. As an American WhatsApp is primarily, for me, the app I use to text my twin sister, but in smaller countries and the developing world the app serves as the communications backend for most everyone for whom domestic telecoms service is not expansive enough. Generations of Sahelians have repurposed the latest mobile tech they have to record and share their music, which at this point can practically be charted by the names of the compilations the Sahel Sounds label releases. During the pandemic, Sahel Sounds—which repackages this almost free-for-all into Western-accessible formats—hosted a series of limited-time access, sliding scale EPs from their artists on Bandcamp to help support them. This compilation permanently (?) hosts the highlights from those sessions. Live recordings of so-called ‘desert blues’ jams predominate here, a lively group of psychedelic-sounding songs from both relatively familiar names to up-and-comers. I’m only somewhat familiar with Etran de L’Air and Hama among the track list, but this is as much of a snapshot of the contemporary scene as you can get without trekking there yourself.
There’s a clinical beauty to these dub techno tracks that’s utterly humane. Like an attractive coworker at the office who makes the business dress code work for him or her despite the odds. You know what I’m saying? It suits the project’s anonymity, a bright (or perhaps just noticeable) spot in such an otherwise dreary environment. Something objectively good about, or perhaps a hidden side or sublimity, to the eat-sleep-work-repeat grind. A3 and A4 especially.
Neither Kate NV, featured last issue, nor Angel Deradoorian, featured back in issue 20, are strangers to creating compelling non-Western art music that’s nevertheless compelling in the underground. I can’t say I was necessarily expecting a team up between them, but the fact that they have as Decisive Pink makes sense, and has me excited for more. First single Haffmilch Holiday feels like Angel crafted a demo of a stadium-sized 80s synth pop banger, miniaturized to bedroom size, with Kate injecting things with a strong sense of whimsy to counteract any broodingly dull all-black synthwave comparisons. Here’s hoping the rest of their teamup promises similar delights.
The Leaf Library have been on my radar for a bit but I’ve never given them much consideration—I’ll blame the bad (imo) band name and seemingly middlebrow enthusiasm/reception many publications have had for them. That being said, this compilation of drone-pop/space-rock/art-noise of loosies from throughout their career has been quite enjoyable. I’m not sure I’ll go to spin this over a thematically similar Switched On compilation from Stereolab or similar acts like Jane Weaver, Electrelane, Broadcast (if they used old-school krautrock-y drums) etc., but perhaps I’ll dig through their back catalog when getting stoned while listening to the above gets stale.
As much as I like industrial and dubby techno, I can’t keep up with everything that endlessly prolific producers like Justin K. Broadrick release. An artist continuously flooding the zone with work, no matter how good, inevitably makes much of it seem replacement level. This album from Broadrick, out on The Bug’s PRESSURE label, is a highlight though. Imagine Andy Stott’s most corroded moments and you’re most of the way there.
I’m skeptical of the so-called indie sleaze revival that’s had a certain hold on media people over the past 12 months—that Yeah Yeah Yeahs record from a few months ago wasn’t that good, and I think it’s more older millennials getting nostalgic for their youth yadda yadda—but I’m always down for a good dance-rock or dance-punk record. I’m struggling to identify particular bands this Wellington group sounds like—my brain tells me Local Natives and The Rapture—though the additional instrumentation suggests a kinship with their local R&B/soul scene (look it up) as much as anything stateside. Anyway, they’re opening for The Beths on their tour next month, and if you happen to have an extra ticket for either of the Chicago shows, hit me up please.
I’m grouping these next five releases together as they broadly feel similar to me. I’ve enjoyed them over the past few weeks but am struggling to pick them apart distinctly and have too much to say about them individually. All ambient/dance-leaning stuff. I think their layering sounded much more distinct and detailed when I was spinning them high as hell than listening sober which contributes to my sentiments towards them too:
Fourth-world-y texture explorations from Lasus, reminding me broadly of like an Americanized take on Salamanda’s ashbalkum:
LA producer Maymind collaborates with indie journeyman Jon Natchez on these longform jams. More drum programming and less ‘resonance’ than I would expect from something that’s supposed to be representative of the title, then again bells aren’t my go-to for New Age-adjacent sounds:
Prolific Bay area-producer Tomu DJ has another suite of loosies out recently. I like releases like this from her more than the coherent ‘official’ releases that tend to get editorial attention, though her work is always worth checking out:
A series of live jams from the casual, perhaps ephemeral NYC producer bookworms. Somewhat rough as no mixing/mastering etc. was done after recording. Which this could benefit from imo. If I get to listening to this again before hitting send I will ID the highlights which I think are the close to 10-min ones in the middle [update: yes they are]:
The final release here compiles installation sound art from Hans Berg into standalone releases. Even getting an installation piece up and running in a compelling manner is a challenge, though Berg has plenty of experience and pulls this off successfully. I like the polyrhythms of ‘Ghost Band’ the most:
If any New Year’s resolution you’ve made involves dancing more, I think you’d be hard-pressed to find as good a place to start than this set of jacking, glitchy house numbers out on an Unknown to the Unknown sub label.
Aphex Twin may be the consensus pick from most quintessentially British electronic music producer, in part due to the vast genre-hopping he’s done across his discography, but there are genres from the Isles he’s never publicly indulged in. At least, that’s what came to mind listening to this EP from Alex Jones (not that Alex Jones afaik) with him very obviously cutting up ’67 minipops’ into a garage beat. A fun little listen here.
Finally, as much as Broadcast are a frequent reference point for much psych-adjacent synth work, one quick review and you must proclaim there is only one Trish Keenan, dearly missed. LA radio station dublab dug up this live recording of the group at the El Rey Theatre on Nov. 1, 2000. As a longtime fan of their Black Session, some of the power and fidelity is lost with this setup, but what a historic peak they were at nonetheless. So much so that the dublab writeup claims they blew out the headliner—Godspeed You! Black Emperor touring Skinny Fists (!)—that night. You’ll have to listen for yourself to determine whether that claim is hyperbolic or not. [no functional embed, you’ll have to click through]
Alright, you’ve officially made it to the end of issue #45 of Crow’s Nest. Give yourself a pat on the back for that, and thank you for doing so as always. Hopefully something within gave you some enjoyment.
If you haven’t already noticed, there haven’t been any pictures in this issue as I haven’t been to any shows since the last one. What! I know, I’m a bit surprised by that too. So here’s a photo of a squirrel I took at my parents’ place on Christmas to round this out. Take care until next time.
First, kudos to your friend for asking questions about the dance scene. I'd like to harrumph and mutter something about how in my day we had to figure it all out on our own, but the truth is, I'd have loved to have had someone point out where to start. Mostly to avoid the "exclusionary, all-black everything, culturally homogenized view of dance music that treats Berghain like Temple Mount." (amazing bit of wordsmithing, BTW).
Shows can be tricky. I'm lucky in that (weather permitting) I can bike to almost any venue here in Madison. I also don't drink too much, so that helps cut costs. But I've made a lot of the same decisions you have-- deciding day of not to go, having something come up, etc.
On a larger scale, society has been conditioned to think all "content" should be free, including shows. Ticket master charging usury rates for A-list shows just makes it all worse. I don't have any answers here, I just know that most bands deserve better than what they're getting.