Thank You For The Music, Part 5: Have Fun, Make Art
Final installment in the blog-post series; I'll keep the introductory waffle to a minimum this time, promise.
5. Hope & Social
The support slot is a wonderful thing; I've discovered many a fantastic band because they were playing second fiddle to the act I actually bought the ticket for (the Ragamuffins, who I blogged about all those months ago, are quite possibly my ultimate example). Hope & Social, on the other hand, are a band I discovered because I happened to be in their support act.
About ten months ago, approaching the end of my degree, the folk band I play trombone in was booked to play a support slot at a cafe-cum-gig venue in Liverpool. I had deadlines to finish, and although I said I'd do it I wasn't looking forward to it; I was stressed, I was tired and I wasn't expecting very much at all.
I was, quite fortuitously, proven very badly wrong.
I don't think I've ever been so regretful to leave a gig so soon into a band's set (such being one of the reasons I loathe being dependent on public transport in Liverpool - but that's another blog). I didn't even get a chance to try one of the kazoo cookies (kazookies?) they were handing out, let alone buy any of their music; not that that was an issue, since unless they were happy to sell their music for whatever I could afford, I couldn't afford it - and what band would be mad enough to do that?
At this point I'd like to quote the Hope & Social website: "If you come to one of our gigs we'll sell you a CD for whatever you want to pay." Turns out, Hope & Social are another of those bands, like the Bedlam Six, who want to cut through all the industry bullshit that stops them from playing music and tries to criminalise people who want to share their music. In a previous iteration, as Four Day Hombre, they set up Britain's first fan-funded label; now, everything they do is 'pay what you want', and various band-members are involved in projects such as UnConvention, Planzai and NMS, discussing how music and musicians can function in the terrifying, glorious age of social media and the biggest reassessment of artistic worth since Plato.
The Hope & Social boys are also unfailingly decent and helpful; I sent them an email a few days after the gig, saying how much I'd enjoyed it and how inspiring I found their ethos, and ended up having quite a lengthy correspondence with Simon and Rich (the singer and guitarist, respectively) that in turn yielded more inspiration and ideas.
Their attitude to music extends to their live shows as well as their records; they held a garden party last July, which I went along to, and it was the most awesome fun I've ever had on a grey Sunday in Mirfield. Quite apart from the excellent music throughout the day - culminating in a two-hour headline set from H&S, broadcast on East Leeds FM - was the fun activities (Paintball Swingball should definitely be the national sport), the excellent food (yes, including kazookies) and the efforts to make the whole thing family-friendly, in the sense of having plenty to appeal to adults as well as children. Whilst it was undoubtedly a celebration of, by and with a band in a uniquely creative stage of their career, it was also a community event, by a band who've made those who support them the centre of their philosophy.
And, as I said before, they're an awesome live act - to be part of a crowd belting out the wordless refrain to 'Looking For Answers', for example, is a properly hair-raising experience. They are also one of the few bands I will conga to without shame, and with good reason, since they can be a phenomenal party band. Just check out their latest album, 'Sleep Sound'.
These guys gave me the final kick I needed to get me to do something important - but all the bands I've mentioned in this series played a part. As to what I'm actually doing... watch this space. Hopefully for not as long as you've had to of late.
5. Hope & Social
The support slot is a wonderful thing; I've discovered many a fantastic band because they were playing second fiddle to the act I actually bought the ticket for (the Ragamuffins, who I blogged about all those months ago, are quite possibly my ultimate example). Hope & Social, on the other hand, are a band I discovered because I happened to be in their support act.
About ten months ago, approaching the end of my degree, the folk band I play trombone in was booked to play a support slot at a cafe-cum-gig venue in Liverpool. I had deadlines to finish, and although I said I'd do it I wasn't looking forward to it; I was stressed, I was tired and I wasn't expecting very much at all.
I was, quite fortuitously, proven very badly wrong.
I don't think I've ever been so regretful to leave a gig so soon into a band's set (such being one of the reasons I loathe being dependent on public transport in Liverpool - but that's another blog). I didn't even get a chance to try one of the kazoo cookies (kazookies?) they were handing out, let alone buy any of their music; not that that was an issue, since unless they were happy to sell their music for whatever I could afford, I couldn't afford it - and what band would be mad enough to do that?
At this point I'd like to quote the Hope & Social website: "If you come to one of our gigs we'll sell you a CD for whatever you want to pay." Turns out, Hope & Social are another of those bands, like the Bedlam Six, who want to cut through all the industry bullshit that stops them from playing music and tries to criminalise people who want to share their music. In a previous iteration, as Four Day Hombre, they set up Britain's first fan-funded label; now, everything they do is 'pay what you want', and various band-members are involved in projects such as UnConvention, Planzai and NMS, discussing how music and musicians can function in the terrifying, glorious age of social media and the biggest reassessment of artistic worth since Plato.
The Hope & Social boys are also unfailingly decent and helpful; I sent them an email a few days after the gig, saying how much I'd enjoyed it and how inspiring I found their ethos, and ended up having quite a lengthy correspondence with Simon and Rich (the singer and guitarist, respectively) that in turn yielded more inspiration and ideas.
Their attitude to music extends to their live shows as well as their records; they held a garden party last July, which I went along to, and it was the most awesome fun I've ever had on a grey Sunday in Mirfield. Quite apart from the excellent music throughout the day - culminating in a two-hour headline set from H&S, broadcast on East Leeds FM - was the fun activities (Paintball Swingball should definitely be the national sport), the excellent food (yes, including kazookies) and the efforts to make the whole thing family-friendly, in the sense of having plenty to appeal to adults as well as children. Whilst it was undoubtedly a celebration of, by and with a band in a uniquely creative stage of their career, it was also a community event, by a band who've made those who support them the centre of their philosophy.
And, as I said before, they're an awesome live act - to be part of a crowd belting out the wordless refrain to 'Looking For Answers', for example, is a properly hair-raising experience. They are also one of the few bands I will conga to without shame, and with good reason, since they can be a phenomenal party band. Just check out their latest album, 'Sleep Sound'.
These guys gave me the final kick I needed to get me to do something important - but all the bands I've mentioned in this series played a part. As to what I'm actually doing... watch this space. Hopefully for not as long as you've had to of late.