So.
The Suburban Howl ended in 2005. My blogs were on MySpace. Now I am back on Blogger, with a new purpose: interrogate the vast amount of data and artwork I consume. Most of it is rock and roll and videogames. Simple, yes? New Game + is one of my favorite bits of videogame culture - a chance to restart a game with some of what you've learned and acquired in the last playthrough. My time in Australia has felt a bit like that - old things encountered in new formats, faced with mistakes honed in a different setting.
More like a sequel then a New Game Plus, then.

So. Rock and roll and videogames. Rock, first. I can live without games.
Yesterday I saw Clutch. They were suburb musicians and each song, though seeming random, was intricately structured. Things built, faded, built again. Lyrics were hard to hear but I knew that on CD they meant something - at one point the singer sang binary code, and I'm sure their fans have decoded it. No image, no pretense - the drummer looked like a fish and every member seemed deformed, physically. They played for 3 hours. There was a fight in the moshpit; the band were a great rock and roll band.

On Thursday I saw The King Brothers, a Japanese band. They were sloppy and ragged. One wore a cowboy hat. The singer stalked around the stage, hurled his microphone in the crowd, ate his microphone, played in the crowd. The sound mix was muddy and I wasn't sure if the band could even play. They were half image, whip-thin Japanese versions of old American music. They were a great rock and roll band.

An artificial dichotomy? Perhaps. You could pick more extreme examples - Stevie Vai and Kiosk or Joe Satriani and the Sex Pistols. Passion vs technique. Image and artifice vs music.

There is no dichotomy. Rock and roll is about passion and about truth and whether that passion and truth is expressed through commitment or insanity it is the same. Clutch didn't play for 3 hours because they didn't care. Their intricate breakdowns and drum solos weren't flipping off the audience in ironic disdain. They WERE their music - everything was focused into the playing. Pure passion. Rock and roll.

The King Brothers acted the part of a band who cared through sloppy playing and adolescent passion. Its an act like the Sex Pistols is an act but what are the miming? People who hurl themselves into the music, who express boredom through screaming and nihlism through violence. Total commitment. Rock and roll, motherfuckers.


Videogames. I recently bought a Playstation 2 and have been collecting old games. I played Timesplitters 2, a shooter made by the team that made Goldeneye. Little touches - the health bars only coming up when you pause, the sound armor makes when 'zipping' on you, bullet hole decals appearing on anything you shoot - connected it to Goldeneye and Perfect Dark. Tiny twinges of nostalgia, like a writer reusing certain phrases or a singer quoting his old riffs. Videogame nostalgia as expressed throug graphics and gameplay - grab the sniper rifle and the silenced pistol and shoot out that security camera like you're James Bond. The loneliness of the spy.

More, later. If you're reading this and you're in Sydney come to my gig at Bar Me on Tuesday. Thanks
posted by Robot Devil at 6:19 PM