Did it start with Vampire Weekend or Razorlight? No, it was probably before that. Gay Dad, I think it began with Gay Dad. I'm talking about a phenomenon I call 'flash-in-the-pan (FITP) bands.'
A great band needs some resistance. At least initially, it does a band no end of good if they have to struggle to be heard, noticed and appreciated. It makes them stubborn, determined and even a little bit angry. The mighty Manic Street Preachers were met with pretty widespread derision in their formative period. Fake punks, poseurs, Welsh yokels, rock fakes - the metropolitan intelligentsia had a field day, heaping accusation and mockery on the group. Did it ruin them? Did it hell. It gave them the belief and grit they needed to become the consistently interesting and hugely popular act we know today. When they first appeared, The Clash were dismissed as a hopeless garage band; Pet Shop Boys were labelled irrelevant Europop; even The Beatles struggled to find a label willing to take them on. No, a bit of a shoeing gives a pop outfit the depth and character required to mark them out as special. The friction gives them traction.
But when a band is instantly seized upon by a painfully hip media, borne aloft on a tide of praise and singled out by a white hot spotlight as the 'next-big-thing' - that's when there's trouble. It's not a new process, of course. Last year, on the podcast, we mentioned a band called Sharks. A 70s act which boasted Andy Fraser from Free, the legendary Chris Spedding and a fella called Snips - they were blessed with acres of promotion and a very enthusiastic press, almost before they'd recorded a note. The result? Warehouses full of unsold Sharks albums and a pretty rapidly abandoned project.
Of course a band can be FITP and still shift a bit of product. But because they've never really had to prove their worth or fight their corner, they have little forward momentum. One minute they're everywhere, convinced they represent the future of pop music (and having been publicly told they are, why wouldn't they?), before they know it everyone has moved on and they're struggling badly. In 2010, it seemed every music commentator was lying prostrate at the feet of a group called Foals. I recall seeing a gargantuan queue outside a venue in Leeds. Punters were falling over themselves to see two guys from the band playing records (or a DJ set, as this was rather grandly promoted). But when one actually gave Foals a listen, they were just sort of okay. And here in 2013, although I'm sure there are still plenty of Foals fans, the buzz has gone, the heat has cooled.
This is, of course, very unfair to the artists. It's perfectly understandable any bunch of aspiring musicians would want lots of success as quickly as possible. But if that happens before they've really won their spurs, it can feel desperately cold when the spotlight shifts to the next set of hungry youths.
The arts media is a fickle beast. Its members are both naturally contrary and overly anxious. Simultaneously critics enjoy the power to baptise a band and worry enormously about the peril of missing out. This propels under-prepared acts into a state of glory with a speed that makes their heads spin, before they are ejected from the photo-booth of fame to make room for another clutch of poor saps.
It's a shame. Obviously, a slow burn brings longevity and chance for a band to hone their craft, mature and learn from their mistakes. If the price is a couple of early years in the wilderness, it's clearly one worth paying. Unfortunately, FITP groups are picked up, polished and discarded at an increasing and heady rate.
Far be it from me to offer young, breaking bands advice - but I would quite like to ask Palma Violets to name the last Vampire Weekend record and think hard about their career trajectory.
A great band needs some resistance. At least initially, it does a band no end of good if they have to struggle to be heard, noticed and appreciated. It makes them stubborn, determined and even a little bit angry. The mighty Manic Street Preachers were met with pretty widespread derision in their formative period. Fake punks, poseurs, Welsh yokels, rock fakes - the metropolitan intelligentsia had a field day, heaping accusation and mockery on the group. Did it ruin them? Did it hell. It gave them the belief and grit they needed to become the consistently interesting and hugely popular act we know today. When they first appeared, The Clash were dismissed as a hopeless garage band; Pet Shop Boys were labelled irrelevant Europop; even The Beatles struggled to find a label willing to take them on. No, a bit of a shoeing gives a pop outfit the depth and character required to mark them out as special. The friction gives them traction.
But when a band is instantly seized upon by a painfully hip media, borne aloft on a tide of praise and singled out by a white hot spotlight as the 'next-big-thing' - that's when there's trouble. It's not a new process, of course. Last year, on the podcast, we mentioned a band called Sharks. A 70s act which boasted Andy Fraser from Free, the legendary Chris Spedding and a fella called Snips - they were blessed with acres of promotion and a very enthusiastic press, almost before they'd recorded a note. The result? Warehouses full of unsold Sharks albums and a pretty rapidly abandoned project.
Of course a band can be FITP and still shift a bit of product. But because they've never really had to prove their worth or fight their corner, they have little forward momentum. One minute they're everywhere, convinced they represent the future of pop music (and having been publicly told they are, why wouldn't they?), before they know it everyone has moved on and they're struggling badly. In 2010, it seemed every music commentator was lying prostrate at the feet of a group called Foals. I recall seeing a gargantuan queue outside a venue in Leeds. Punters were falling over themselves to see two guys from the band playing records (or a DJ set, as this was rather grandly promoted). But when one actually gave Foals a listen, they were just sort of okay. And here in 2013, although I'm sure there are still plenty of Foals fans, the buzz has gone, the heat has cooled.
This is, of course, very unfair to the artists. It's perfectly understandable any bunch of aspiring musicians would want lots of success as quickly as possible. But if that happens before they've really won their spurs, it can feel desperately cold when the spotlight shifts to the next set of hungry youths.
The arts media is a fickle beast. Its members are both naturally contrary and overly anxious. Simultaneously critics enjoy the power to baptise a band and worry enormously about the peril of missing out. This propels under-prepared acts into a state of glory with a speed that makes their heads spin, before they are ejected from the photo-booth of fame to make room for another clutch of poor saps.
It's a shame. Obviously, a slow burn brings longevity and chance for a band to hone their craft, mature and learn from their mistakes. If the price is a couple of early years in the wilderness, it's clearly one worth paying. Unfortunately, FITP groups are picked up, polished and discarded at an increasing and heady rate.
Far be it from me to offer young, breaking bands advice - but I would quite like to ask Palma Violets to name the last Vampire Weekend record and think hard about their career trajectory.
