A beginner’s guide to Collapse Board
Confused? Start here.
- Music critics hate people who think everything’s OK really
- Music critics couldn’t give a fuck about getting their name on the door
- Music critics couldn’t give a fuck about pissing off ‘contacts’
- Music critics couldn’t give a fuck about impressing musicians
- Music critics couldn’t give a fuck about impressing readers
- Music critics couldn’t give a fuck about impressing themselves
- Don’t ever attempt to apologise for holding an opinion.
- 400 words good. 800 words fucking horrible.
- Most musicians are cunts.
- The music industry is not your friend. Unless you choose to make it so.
- Don’t forget to place value upon what you do. If you don’t, why should anyone else?
- Having the ability to turn an amp up really loud does not automatically make you an interesting person.
There’s only one inviolate rule. (This is an unfinished article, by necessity.)
It’s about the music. (It’s never just about the music.) Don’t lose sight of that. You get the music wrong, your readers will not forgive you. (You get the music right, your readers will not forget you.) Most people who read me do so despite my gregarious self-promotion. They read me (hopefully) first and foremost because I have a clue. Not much, just enough. An iota of respect. An ability to sort. Then, and only then, they stick with me because I have a style, a ‘personality’. (I am aware this doesn’t always apply.) I’m not scared to champion new artists, not scared to go against the grain, not scared to call time on bullshit. I would like to be loved but prefer to remain True. I don’t follow a consensus. The only history I’m interested in is mine. The only folk I care to cite are those who have a personal connection to me. (Doesn’t mean I have to know them.) I have a proven track record that can be easily verified. You might not agree with me but you sure as hell know what I stand for. Sometimes. (I like to catch folk off-beam, confound expectations, challenge preconceptions … have fun while I’m fucking.) I might try everything within my power to draw attention to my musical preferences and loves, to a degree where it becomes near-parody or incomprehensible or hype or embarrassingly self-referential but I do so because it’s about the music. I care to a ridiculous extent about the fucking music. I started writing because I wanted everyone to dance down the front of shows. I still write for that reason.
Collapse Board has a lot of Manifestos.
I asked my friend about it and he said “Collapse BORED”.
But I don’t take what he says too seriously.
He has cough syrup eyes.
He keeps going on about childbirth and authoritative knowledge.
He thinks there are 12 people in this world and the rest are paste, etc.
I think his taste for bullshit reveals a lust for a home or office.
Do you know about Lester Bangs?
He said “John Coltrane lives! Skronk!”
It’s like being woken up by a pack of smiling evangelist Christians at 8:00 on a Saturday morning. It belongs in a diet soda commercial with scores of beautiful people giving you a big thumbs-up. It makes me want to stab sharpened knitting needles through my eyes until it punctures my brain (and THAT, my friends, is the closest thing to anger on the entire album — Don’t get mad, says Gotye, get mopey).
You can sing George Michael’s ‘Faith’ over ‘In Your Light’ if you want to. It won’t make you a bad person.