I am a liberal sort of chap. I fully endorse your depraved and unusual (‘alternative’ is, I believe, the preferred euphemism) lifestyle. Hell, I probably congratulate you upon its peculiar charms, boldly displayed and strangely compelling. However, when it comes to music, long and unassailably cool experience has taught me that a degree of…fascism is necessary on my part. Far too many people JUST DON’T GET IT. There is NO MORE HOPE FOR THEM, sever all ties with them and JUST GET OVER IT, for no longer shall you dwell with the scathen. For, you, you see…THERE’S HOPE FOR YOU YET…just so long as you sit down, shut up AND LET ME TELL YOU WHAT’S COOL. Later, way down the line, when you know what you’re talking about and might actually have something to say…later, you might earn an OPINION OF YOUR OWN…if your case is valid I may even allow thee to CONTRADICT ME IN PRINT. But for now? For now…shut up and listen!

Listen, first of all, to my new RULES OF MUSIC JOURNALISM. Too long has ignorance held sway over knowledge, too long have the unworthy given their unlearned and crude interpretations of the scriptures handed down to us in a variety of formats (although most commonly now in the form of dodgy Russian computer files), too long have they raised up and dashed images of false gods and goddesses…and raised them up and dashed them again in an infuriating and predictable cyclical motion. For every true prophet, there have been a thousand1 illiterate hedge priests trying to make a quick buck and get an easy ride from a ruined alter boy (the groupie of this series of metaphors). In order to stem the tide of ignorance and bolster the dam of knowledge, like a tiny Dutch child with a very special finger, I descend, like Moses from Mount Sinai, with Ten Commandments (Of Music Journalism) [you already know the ones about not killing each other, right?]:

I. Thou shalt make an effort to use your knowledge of LANGUAGE to describe the band/artist in question before resorting to filling in Music Jouno Form A1. (Excerpt: “They sound just like a British/American version of The Beatles/Rolling Stones/Nirvana/Stone Roses/Other Archetypal Band playing Insert Absurd Composite- Or Sub- Genre on Acid/Speed/Mushrooms/Other Drug Associated With Another Absurd Sub-Genre. Delete-As-Applicable-Sign-Name”).

II. If thou must make a comparison between musicians or groups thereof let it be because the similarity is overwhelming (e.g. because one band so badly wants to be the other that it hurts) not because thou hast plucked out the only one of their influences thou hast ever heard of2 and inserted it into Form A1.

III. Thou shalt not endeavour to build musical ‘movements’ out of bands with little or no affinity to each other (think about it this way: if two people live in the same town and are about the same age, it is acceptable in the eyes of God for them to marry; if however, those two people are first cousins, it is not – as in “Dude! She’s your Mother’s Brother’s daughter! You’re fucked-up and shall have kids with webbed feet! I’m on my way to visit the Holy Father and ensure that, this time, you’re excommunicated!) (Oh right, that was a metaphor...in short, incest=’scene’/’movement’ and ordinary common law marriage well within acceptable degrees of consanguity=a bunch of bands which all use guitars and have played the same venue once).

IV. Thou shalt not assume that The Beatles constitute the pinnacle of all that has and can be achieved in the field of popular music.

V. Thou shalt look at thyself very carefully before mocking ‘the kids’ (maybe that fifteen-year-old goth/emo doesn’t really have that much to whinge about but, Christ, they’re a teenager – they probably have more to whinge about than you and what’s rock’n’roll really all about anyway? What, were you born with an encyclopaedic knowledge of cool music? No! That was me). Look, I know emo’s physically painful…just be a little self-reflective. I mean, maybe you’re sad and out of touch, O.K.?

VI. Thou shalt not bring into question the authenticity of others when you are a middle-class white boy from Surrey unless it’s Vanilla Ice him fucking self (O.K. some discernment is called for here – is this person really asking us to buy that they’re a hardcore gangsta/cowboy/hooker or are they clearly a storyteller placing themselves in the shoes of an archetypal protagonist? Or playing a character like Ziggy Stardust or Slim Shady? Or simply exaggerating for effect? Or just for fun? So get down of your high horse and fuck off back to Mummy’s place in Guilford).

VII. Thou shalt not expose the cavern of ignorance which lines thy skull by passing on received ‘Rock Facts’ which, in fact, you have no means of verifying (e.g. The Minutemen are so called in reference to the militia bands active in the American Revolutionary War, not because most of their tracks clock in at less than sixty seconds).

VIII. Thou shalt not pass off gossip about musicians’ private lives as music journalism – fuck off and work for Heat! (Once again, discernment is called for. Is Shane McGowan’s rampant alcoholism relevant to a discussion of the music of the Pogues? You’d probably have to say ‘Yes!’ However, when asked ‘Does anybody care whether Gavin Rossdale and Gwen Stefani fuck each other or themselves?’, the answer is probably, ‘No, do I fuck!’ If Gwen Stefani wrote a song about how deeply unfulfilling it was to sleep with Gavin Rossdale and how suicidal bearing his young made her feel, this would constitute a ‘grey area’ in which the spiffingest music journalist would exercise their innate God-given reason and come up with a sensible solution).

IX. Thou shalt not dismiss all pretentiousness in music unequivocally – for is it not possible to be so avidly hip and street that, in your self-conscious phobia of pretentiousness, you yourself disappear up your own arse in the manouvere known to musical physicists as The Coke-Fuelled-Corgan-Double-Album-Reach-Around. I call this one ‘Corgan’s Law’ – because part of me loves the Pumpkins but if that was all the music that ever there was, that would be rubbish (like their last album, or Zwan).

X. Tom Waits is a genre unto himself (and it is best not to question him because he’s cleverer than you).

So it is written. Now you may go forth. But return soon for sporadic revelations about recordings, performances, and the philosophies of the musics which do and do not suck.

1 It is, in fact a ratio of 1:5,463 but convention requires the figure be either one hundred or one thousand. Seriously, have you ever heard an immortal super-villain make a proclamation such as “And so it has been for forty-six and a half years” or “And all humanity shall live in pain and fear for eight-hundred and seven years”. No. Of course you haven’t. It just doesn’t work like that. As far as I’m concerned Lester Bangs was a genius and so is Jon Savage…the rest…you may destroy.

2 This is because you are too ignorant of music to be a music journalist…you are probably a career trendy without the love of music to write from the heart or the knowledge of painfully irrelevant details to write with authority. If you are uncertain if you are worthy, I am willing to examine potential music journalists and issue successful candidates with a license. This licensing system will ensure quality!

Do you have any bands, records, or shows you think Punk John ought to review? Email punkjohn@antagonistinternational.com!