Tim Wheeler’s intentions were admirable enough: the record buying world has changed, demands are different now and the vast majority of albums are too long in the making and offer too little in the way of satisfaction. This is not necessarily the fault of the artist, it it’s the fault of an industry numbed by fear, marred by complacency and so grossly self-analytical of its craft that any joyous creative zeal shown by aspiring bands is stifled by marketing objectives. This is not a new thing, of course, but there was time when it was those within the industry who were telling the public what they wanted, when they wanted it and how long they wanted it for. Today, the more successful executive decisions are being made by fans of music and not those providing it. The very idea of artist – nevermind ‘album’ is almost dead. Fans lack either the loyalty, the patience, the energy, the interest or the faith in those making a living out of their art. Everything that could be said has already been said; our ability to withstand one revival after another is testament to that – the only thing to look forward to is the past. The yardstick in Rock was at one time how radical a departure one could make, how faithful we were to the future not the past. Sadly, the yardstick seems to have got stuck – and everyone seems loathe to bring it forward.
Wheeler’s response has been to give us what we want, when we want it and in a format that risks the very least kinetic effort on our behalf. Instead of writing and recording an entire album and have it launched during some pseudo momentous release period, deal it to them how they like it: fast, hard and at fortnightly intervals. It’s no different to how people like most of their fixes thesedays, whether it’s scoring a line of Charlie at the weekend, bagging a 24 hour Amazon delivery or a couple of extra meg on your broadband. Can’t f*cking wait, won’t f*cking wait for Christmas. The result? Ash would provide a digital single release every two weeks from October 2009 to September 2010. Each single is assigned a specific colour and a letter from A-Z, and something about a colour was thrown in too. Vinyl editions would be on a subscription-only basis.
Sadly though, whilst the new approach just about works for the extraordinarily soft-focus synth-pop of ‘True Love 1980’ and the Nano-Surf whimsy of the cooing, ‘Joy Kicks Darkness’ things are sounding a little tired by ‘Dionysian Urge’ and ‘War With Me’ – the euphoria and freedom of loosening ones shackles eventually giving way to the usual routine of fuzzy guitars and sudden bursts of solar (pluxus) energy – a return to Mars just as they were pulling out of it’s now characteristically ebullient orbit.
Dig the new fascination with Brian Wilson and the Boys, don’t dig the self-defeating decision to release the whole groundbreaking enterprise as a single hard-issue CD. A bit like jumping on a bus to complete a marathon if you ask me.
Software, hardware, underware – who really gives a shit? My own groundbreaking idea would be for a band to release a song when they’ve actually recorded one worth listening. But is this just a bit too radical?