day 16 – a song that you used to love but now hate Today: A journey back into my generic-indie-kid past. Maximo Park – Apply Some Pressure An initial disclaimer: both ‘love’ and ‘hate’ are used loosely here. Apply Some Pressure was never my favourite Maximo Park song. To be clear, there were some of their songs I really loved. I haven’t listened to Maximo Park for ages, but I’m not ashamed of liking them, the way I might be with other bands I liked around the period: y’know, the likes of ___, ____ and even The ____s! Cringe! I once saw frontman Paul Smith cry at a gig*, which is enough guarantee of authenticity for me. They had enough of The Smiths’ stainless-steal melancholy/wit combo about them (and some of the tortured vocab-testing t Publish Post hat I’d come to treasure as ‘density’ in bands like Los Campesinos!) that means their lyrics hold up. I don’t have to cringe at remembering my teenaged self earnestly emoting to them. Not that I don’t have some embarrassing memories of myself soundtracked to this song, you understand. But that’s my fault, not Maximo Park’s. I realise I’ve spent the majority of this ‘hate’ post defending the song. That’s because I don’t have anything against the song, and I don’t want to deny the music that helped form me, cool or not. The truth is, though, that now the song just doesn’t really do much for me. I can listen to it without thinking or feeling one way or the other. Overexposure, I suppose. Years of clubs and parties and radios playing this song and its lasting legacy is this: I was never very good at it on Singstar. It was always harder to sing than I expected. *An anecdote which, when told to any girls I foolishly thought it might impress, inevitably became heard as ‘I cried at a Maximo Park gig’. This was immediately hastily denied. I’m afraid, readers, that I was once not the sex machine you see before you today.
An extraordinarily busy week at Redbrick for the last issue of term led to a music section half-written by me. Here are the results, in installments. First, an interview with the surprisingly lovely unsigned-band Chapman Family. “The Chapman Family are, in some ways, a band of contradictions: tonight, they’re playing to a young, impressionable, NME-reading audience, here to see La Roux.The Chapman Family: a self-described ‘fuckin’ miserable band’. Their set is a whirlwind of smashing guitars, strangulation with microphone leads and aggressively noisy music with some very naughty words in.The Chapman Family- a band that made a girl in front of me swoon, with her hand to her forehead like a character in a Jane Austen novel. Clearly believe in the legend, the spectacle of rock & roll. But their ferocious maltreatment of the guitars is a ‘treat’ with a very mundane flipside:‘I need to save one; I can’t just break ’em every night ‘cus I haven’t got enough money… When we’ve had two days off, I’ve basically fixed two or three guitars. The ones I’ve got now are cobbled together from bits ‘n’ bobs.’The band are unsigned: ‘No one else [on the tour] is unsigned… We’re used to playing gigs for free. Being surrounded by crew who carry our stuff in was an absolute revelation.’A lot of their opposing lead singer Kingsley is a down-to-earth, often self-deprecating gentleman, while bassist Pop (self-proclaimed ‘half the talent in the band’) is a little more aggressively opinionated.Kingsley takes comparisons to Maximo Park and Futureheads in his stride. It’s unfair and lazy, based on a shared Northern accent:‘No one goes to [wonderfully-named girl-goth band] An Experiment On A Bird In The Air Pump, ‘you sound like The Libertines, just ‘cus they’re from London.’There’s a clear common ground in the distaste for bands of ‘local people with fake cockney accents’ and Kinglsey admits playing tribute to those bands:‘First year we played, fair enough, we probably ripped off Maximo Park and Futureheads more than anyone else.’But the band are much dirtier, much louder, more rock & roll than that. And there is an infuriating coincidence with Maximo Park’s single Kids Are Sick Again being released close to their similarly-titled Kids (Are Alright).Meanwhile, Pop’s opinion is a little more straight forward: ‘They can fuck off back down the hole they came from.’Pop Chapamn is given to the kind of hyperbolically impassioned statements that make my heart melt. He casually announces Roxy Music’s Do the Strand as featuring ‘the best lyric ever written by any human being’.Pop joined the band after they’d been together for a while, bringing to the table ‘a lack of musical knowledge… and a box of distortion pedals.’The two play off each other, debating and squabbling about celebrity adoption and the best beers (the tequila-infused Desperado) as much as selling-out and The Horrors model of 20-minute sets.It’s an odd thought, but they seem a willfully small band, massively DIY. Kingsley ‘used to do T-shirts that I’d paint myself. People are still fucking getting in touch with me and going, like, can you do the painted ones? ‘Cus I preferred them.’They’ve played gigs ‘for two people.’ Their solution? ‘Play as hard as you fucking can… One of those people might really like it.’ But now their moment might be coming, and there are already accusations of being ‘sell-out bastards… Purely because we managed to get on MTV.’The Chapman Family are a band whose, in Pop’s words, inspirations include ‘the size of boobies, a drink of beer’. They’re a band waiting for a cult of manic devoted fans. If they get it, it’s reassuring to think they probably wouldn’t abuse it.Even if they are sell-out bastards.” You can listen to the Chapman Family (and read some of the quite impassioned rants that inspired the majority of this interview) at their MySpace. Confession: I’m a bit worried that ending didn’t come off quite as ironic as possible. And, rereading, can’t believe I couldn’t fit the actual Roxy Music lyric in: it’s “Rhododendron is a nice flower”. Which very possibly actually is the best lyric ever.