November 5, 2008

One of my half-baked New Years resolutions this year, among ‘become ridiculously waif-like and stunning’, ‘cease using the C word in conversation, ‘manage a band’ and ‘cut down on drinking’ (all of which, at this stage deserve a hearty LOLZ accompanied by a defeated single tear) was to expand my music horizons- by which I mean, go somewhere other than the Arthouse on any given weekend.

So when Salt n Pepa announced a tour I decided I was there with bells, and possibly pants of the ‘happy’ variety on. Days before however, their management spam-mailed every music related publication in the southern hemisphere warning that the tour promoter was a rotten hack and had neglected to fulfil any of the contracted pre-tour duties. BOO!

My worldlier friends quickly informed me that hip hop/rap tours or more specifically promoters, were a devious bunch and that one should generally not pee their allegorical pants with excitement until you literally see the artist appear on stage before you, such is the frequency of tour cancellations.

Well fuck you hip-hop, if it weren’t for Snoop Doggs amazing show on Sunday I’d be dismissing you completely.

It all makes me super grateful that we seem to have increasingly adventurous and capable promoters on this side of the fence. I was admittedly puzzled as to how anyone could bring out Cancer Bats, Gaslight Anthem, Ignite, Gorilla Biscuits and most recently Smoke Or Fire over the past 12 months when it can’t have been a particularly profitable project.

Smoke Or Fire, for example could not fill an Arty last week but this didn’t mean that there wasn’t a distinct vibe of euphoria and almost disbelief when the small time Fat Wreck crew took the stage. Thanks Resist. Mad props go out to the people with their fingers on the pulse instead of up their ass.