Facets of Fandom: Can obsessive musical appreciation ever be healthy?

(Part 1 of a University Assignment Series)

Has Beatlemania been overtaken by Bieber fever?

To anybody who has seen the classic scene from The Beatles movie A Hard Day’s Night where the band are chased through the streets by hoards of screaming girls, there is no question that young women can be a dangerous breed when placed in front of their idols.However, obsessive pop fandom is no longer just the domain of teenybopper girls. With social media making our favourite celebrities more attainable than ever, identifying as part of a team has become commonplace. Are you a Belieber? Or a Directioner? The chance to plug your allegiance now knows no limits, with fans doing and indeed saying the most inflammatory things online.

Chris Brown - inspiration or instigator?

Take ‘Team Breezy’. Devoted to Chris Brown, they are brainwashed by the singer’s music to the extent that they overlook his previous domestic abuse towards fellow star Rihanna with worrying abandon. ‘You don’t know what Chris Brown goes through,’ feverishly tweets young fan Kassia. ‘Y’all don’t know what she did to make him hit her.’ An argument Chris had with comedian Jenny Johnson via Twitter prompted thousands of abusive tweets from the fandom, with @breezysthug suggesting that Johnson should ‘go get injected with cancer!’, and @trigga-breezy somewhat colourfully contributing ‘STFU bitch, I want to stab 1432 needles in your eyeball, you son of a motherless goat.’Concerning stuff indeed, but a trend that looks set to continue. Laurence Green, confessed pop fan and editor of Music OMD, has seen first-hand the kind of abuse that certain celebrities can attract. ‘There’s a real mob mentality to fanbases: online, it’s so easy to bang out a couple of hostile tweets, not thinking of their potential impact’ he says. ‘I’d like to see repeat offenders and the worst instances resulting in instant bans from Twitter. There’s a total disconnect between online and ‘real’ life – people need to become culpable for their online actions.’
Some fans are simply overzealous rather than malicious, misled by technology’s lack of boundaries. Twin Atlantic frontman Sam McTrusty crossed this fine line trying to adjust to his bands growing fame. ‘I had a Facebook account to stay in touch with friends when we were away, but people who we’d met at shows would add me, and I thought saying no was ungrateful’ he explains. ‘I started accepting everyone and I soon had so many people messaging me I had to create an alias. I was essentially whoring myself out to the internet.’But can fandom ever be healthy, if channelled appropriately? Musicologist Nick Williams thinks that the support networks that come from attributing oneself to a particular musical tribe can be beneficial. ‘There's two types of obsessive fandom - the adolescent, blind hysteria that's been going on since Elvis’s day, and the more mature type of obsessive fandom that manifests itself through completist collecting and collaboration,’ he explains. ‘If bands facilitate their audience, they can provide a safe space for individuals who are often not comfortable anywhere else. I've met obsessive Bob Dylan/Grateful Dead types who put each other up, trading bootlegs, making fanzines, running websites. The Grateful Dead even actively provided space at their gigs for bootleggers to record. It seems to me that big artists nowadays like Justin Bieber have a much more cynical, business-like attitude towards their fans, purposely building up hysteria as a marketing tool.’Making fans wait for over two hours in London before taking to the stage on his latest tour, Bieber’s sympathy for his audience is certainly questionable, but he is not alone. Many of the world biggest artists have been accused of fan mistreatment or setting a bad example, whether that be Rihanna nakedly cavorting on Instagram, Beyoncé charging the hardly pocket-money-friendly price of £65 a ticket for her 2013 tour, or Kings Of Leon berating their Reading Festival 2009 audience for not screaming loud enough. But isn’t this what celebrities are meant to be? Unobtainable and mysterious, on a plane of higher being?

Mark Chapman and John Lennon, right before the shooting

Whilst a normal music enthusiast might be content to accept this, others actively seek to immerse themselves in their favourite stars lives, to the point of lawlessness. The 1980 shooting of John Lennon by Mark Chapman, a psychotic Lennon fan and born again Christian who took umbrage at the singers claim that ‘The Beatles were bigger than Jesus’ is an extreme example, but recent years have seen the availability of information on the internet fuelling stalking cases. Devon Townsend, the Linkin Park fan who was sentenced to two years in prison for hacking the private emails and phone of lead singer Chester Bennington, or Karen McNeil, who was issued a restraining order in 2009 after camping outside the house of Justin Timberlake, would never have found the resources that fuelled their fire without online access.

Amber and Bombay

Clearly these cases are the result of deeper underlying psychological issues, but it is possible to befriend an artist whom you admire in a mutually beneficial setting, as 23 year old musician Amber Wilson discovered. ‘I’ve always been a massive Bombay Bicycle Club Fan: I stumbled across their album four years ago and fell in love straight away’ she says. ‘After their former backing vocalist Lucy Rose released her own album and couldn't commit to touring, I was recommended as a replacement. The last year has been an absolute dream; being part of my favourite band is just incredible.’
Much like a cheeky trip to McDonalds, fandom seems to be perfectly healthy in moderation. For many, it’s a vital part of growing up and cultivating interests. For those born in the consumer age, it’s ingrained in daily life –high street fashion stores now stock band t-shirts for even the most casual of fans to pledge their allegiance. With studies proving that an active interest in celebrity livelihoods can boost levels of aspiration, sociability and creativity, subscribing to fuckyeahalexturner.tumblr.com might not be all bad. But if you find yourself longingly stroking his pixelated features and posting love confessionals under the username ‘Mrs Arctic Monkey’, it might be time to step away from your computer.

REVIEW: Parklife Weekender, Manchester, 8-9th June

Confidence is a preference for the habitual festival goer of what is known as Parklife. Drifting in through the gates of Heaton Park amongst the droves of laddish, sunburnt, beer-swilling, bum-baring guys and gals of Manchester, I had my trepidations about what I was about the witness. Put simply, it felt initially like being dropped in an episode of Geordie Shore – pure sluttily dressed carnage. I’m not really sure when it became socially acceptable to wander round in a pinafore dress with nothing, not even a bra underneath, but I’m guessing it must be the latest trend, because I spotted several of these brave girls before I even got inside. But I digress. Let’s talk about the music shall we?

Delphic by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

First up on the mainstage were Manchester’s very own Delphic. Having seen an reviewed them several times before, I’ve always found them a very agreeable and accomplished live act, a perfect happy medium at a festival like Parklife, that flits between indie and dance. They way they segue each song into the next, almost like DJ’s, they are impeccably well rehearsed and draw some synchronized fist pumping with hit single Doubt’s jittery intro.

The Temper Trap by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Delphic warm the crowd up nicely in time for The Temper Trap, who draw a massive yet wholly passive crowd. They only truly liven up when the inevitable outing of Sweet Disposition drops, with one dilated pupilled loon next to me screaming ‘I know this one, it’s off the DFS advert!’ Amateurs.Lead singer Dougy Mandagi postures like the star he is regardless, arms pointing to the cloudless sky, then thrown out to the side, then on the floor as he helps himself down to the audience’s level.If such degree qualifications existed, this man would have a first in stage presence.

Rudimental by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Having missed alunageorge due to announced set time change (I swear this band are trying to evade me on purpose) and with the mainstage running half hour early, I’m left with no alternative but to use my spare time to brave the toilets situation, only to receive casual racist abuse from a heavily intoxicated and ironically fake tanned creature for my efforts. You get em all at festivals don’t you? Luckily, no such ill feeling is in place back at the main stage for Rudimental, who deliver a myriad of hits from their number one album to a sea of happy faces. Tied together by a strong live female vocalist, they are a great festival band, flitting through popular genres with ease and getting a skankathon going en masse for Waiting All Night and Feel The Love.

Jessie Ware by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Jessie Ware keeps the pep up, slinking on stage looking the prettiest I have ever seen her in a beautiful classy red midi skirt – female festival goers, take note.She flirts with her audience, blowing them kisses and wiggling like Betty Boop during 110% and a particularly sultry rendition of Sweet Talk, her doe eyed, old fashioned feminine demeanour slipping for just a second as she dedicates it to Alex Ferguson. She sings in achingly cool, soulful tones throughout, a million times better and more consistently than last summer. In fact, she even looks more comfortable on the stage, no mean feat considering how big said stage is. A delight.

The Maccabees by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

With the sun threatening to make it’s nightly departure, the majority of The Maccabees take to the stage speaks volumes. When they do get underway, they are simply magical, despite a bad vocal mix making the first few songs a little quiet. Orlando Weeks, the bands softly spoken frontman is oddly mesmerising to observe, mysteriously murmuring his thanks between each song. But he appears to be having fun, nodding to his band mates as he sings the camaraderie themed Wall Of Arms that becomes the centrepiece of a greatest hits set. Posessing the ability to switch from perky sing-alongs (Can You Give It) to delicate love songs (Forever I’ve Known) to sheer epic festival anthems (Go), they were born for the slot as day turns into night. Reading and Leeds better watch out: these boys are future festival headliners.
Parklife’s attendees are suitably sozzled and ready for something deeper. The fact that security has to pull a vomiting girl out of the audience before

There was only ever one band who would define Parklife. Even on the train from Huddersfield to Manchester, one chant was being hummed along the carriages, one lyric audible throughout the hoards trying to get through the opening gates. ‘When a fire starts to burn, bright…’

Disclosure by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

The Now Stage is ready for you, Disclosure. The tent is rammed, and Howard bounces nervously on the balls of his feet at the side of the stage, knowing this is probably the biggest gig they have played thus far. Britain is in the thrall of the duos spell, but they open as calmly as possible with F for You, a slinky garage number from their now number one album. It’s not their most recognised song, but people leap around anyway, knowing what’s coming. As it segues into the ubiquitous When A Fire Starts To Burn, a scream goes up and the party unfolds.

Whilst the music they make its necessarily the most captivating to watch live, the music does all the talking. Quirky visuals flicker on a screen behind the duo, and refreshingly for an act of this nature, they play all of their own instruments, even doing a little singing here and there. They’re clearly nervous to begin with, but steadily, there are more ‘how you doing Manchester?’s, more ‘let’s go’s’ and finally, just a huge ‘Parklife!’ as they hit their stride with Stimulation. Jessie Ware beams at the side of the stage like a  proud mother, before legging it out for a run through of Disclosure’s remix of her single Running, and gladly a high octane version of Confess To Me, the next single from Settle if Disclosure have any sense. One album deep, it already runs like an arena show. Parklife, consider yourself well and truly burnt.

King Krule by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Day 2 kicks off noticeably quieter than yesterday: maybe people have been put off by the cooler, heavy
weather. Similarly muggy are the deep tones of King Krule, which ring out across the field before you even reach his stage.With far less technical hitches that his set at Live At Leeds, a rare outing of Portrait in Black and Blue gets one boy pogoing, and several more whipping out their camera phones to catch his unique blend of trip hop and light dubstep on vine. As always it is Baby Blue that is the biggest triumph, hopefully setting the precedent for what could be a very interesting and oddly sensitive record.

Iggy Azalea by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Less subtle is Iggy Azalea, who is peddling the musical equivalent of calling a sex line on the mainstage. Amongst all the ‘gangsta’ gestures, rapping and random swearing, she is a pure popstar, a master of slutty Azealia banks-esque tough-girl pop. No wonder rumour has it the pair want to rip each others weaves out – the similarity is uncanny.

Despite her cartoonishly sexualised appearance, it is an audience of 98% girls who grind along to the dulcet tones of a song about 'twerking', closely followed by one about 'pussy'. It’s ridiculousness almost verges on feminism just be reclaiming misogynistic terms, but making your hype squad of black and mixed race girls shake their asses for a living seems a little too desperate and over-orchestrated. Politics aside, she clearly possesses a strong rap ability and a do-or-die attitude, as presented in her biggest single Work, which gets more than few audience members proclaiming that they too are ‘working on their shit.’ An intelligent businesswoman no doubt, but perhaps Iggy could use her skills for better.

Unfortunately just as thinks are getting interesting, a schedule of bad train times forces us to flee for the exit, missing sets from Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs, Everything Everything, Rita Ora and Example. Not impressed.  But nonetheless for £70.00, the Parklife weekender is more than value for money, which might explain it’s popularity. I’m not sure of the actual attendance figures, but Heaton park was rammed throughout the weekend, sometimes uncomfortably so. Perhaps a site expansion or a downsize of tickets is the sensible thing to secure its future.

REVIEW: Crooked Ways Festival 2013

Walking into Pontefract Racecourse amongst posh parents toting  Cath Kidston buggied children, hot panted teenage girls clearly awaiting their first festival experience and older men in band tees who just love live music, it all bodes well for Crooked Ways. The sun is shining and whilst the crowds are modest at best, a palpable anticipation is in the air. Unfortunately, in the time it takes to locate the press entrance, the glorious weather has cooled slightly and grey crowds are looming overhead, the perfect analogy for the day.

This is not to say that Crooked Ways is a disaster. In fact, they have  some pretty decent bands on their line up, who we shall go on to assess on their own merit. They appear to be selling lots of merch, and whilst they may have undersold tickets, the people that are there appear to be enjoying their festival-priced beer, cider and burgers. But if first impressions count, they have let themselves down somewhat on the essentials.

Forever Cult by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Pontefract park is a fantastic setting for a festival, but none of the stages are signposted or named, making it quite a struggle to locate our first band of the day, Huddersfield’s very own Forever Cult. Previously a two piece, this is only their second gig with new bassist Matty, but they’ve already amassed more tunes and a more distinctive sound than some of tonights headliners. Keiran Clarke’s feral vocals, Aaron’s relentless drum fills and Matty’s brooding bass add a dark edge to what are essentially a collection of catchy slacker punk anthems; they come across almost like a brattier, drunker brother of hispter darlings Best Coast. With an E.P coming soon, they are set to be one of the finest local bands in the five towns.

Fenech Soler by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Ten out of Ten goes also to Fenech Soler, who play to a crowd one row deep at the main stage as if their lives depend on it. Singer Ben Duffy’s cries of ‘HOW YOU DOING CROOKED WAYS!’ seem a little too Wembley-esque under the barren circumstances, but as a man who almost had his career stripped away from him after fighting testicular cancer in 2011, you can’t help but admire his enthusiasm and dedication. They make full use of the stages sound system, which in fairness sounds consistently great throughout the day. Although Fenech Soler may not have quite hit the dizzying heights of fame just yet, they have nailed synth pop for the indie generation – I wouldn't bet against them achieving the crossover they deserve very soon.

The Defiled by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

Any band that introduces a guitar solo with the countdown ‘1,2, Fuck You!’ are hilarious in my book. Whilst The Defiled are not my usual cup of tea (or shot of Jaeger, to use more appropriate terminology) they certainly bring the party, getting the somewhat sombre audience to mosh, headbang and thrust devil horns along to their unapologetic brand of heavy hair metal. Possessing outfits that would make Black Veil Brides shudder with jealousy, they are the first band to look as if they are having serious fun, treating the event with the good humour it deserves in the immortal lines ‘to all three of you who are actually here to see us, lets bounce.’

The D.O.T by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

A larger following are in place ready to watch The D.O.T back on the mainstage, although how many are there in hope of a cheeky outing of The Streets Fit But You Know It remains to be seen.
It's somewhat disappointingly inevitable that Streets fans, and indeed fans of The Music, will be holding this new venture up as comparison to the old day jobs of Mike Skinner and Rob Harvey, including me, so please forgive what I am about to say. But The D.O.T truly do sound like the Hardest Way To Make An Easy Living coupled with a guitar. And I love it. Not a million ways away from the last Streets album Computers and Blues either , The D.O.Ts music sits in that undefinable genre between pop, indie and clubland, which makes them such an attractive prospect in the current musical climate. Closer inspection would be needed to see how the lyrics stand up, but they certainly possess enough intrigue to make me want to inspect them further.

Jim Lockey & The Solemn Sun by Kevin Lawson (editradio.org)

With a firm live reputation preceding them, fresh off the back of an American tour with Dropkick Murphys, it is no surprise that Jim Lockey and The Solemn Sun’s sound falls neatly into the category of driving American folk anthems, despite their Cheltenham heritage. The Frank Turner comparison is inevitable, but what hits me more is a Gaslight Athem-esque sound, all blue collar lyricism and rousing choruses, represented best in Warriors and End Of England that get two dedicated fans down front singing along to every word.

Rolo Tomassi by Kevin Lawsom (editradio.org)

Singalongs are not the most natural reaction to metalcore outfit Rolo Tomassi, but they put on the performance of the day nonetheless. Eva Spence is the most compelling of frontwomen, effortlessly shimmying about the stage and retaining a strong femininity despite her guttural howl. They hit their stride midway through the set, and consequently the lather half  is a showstorm of limbs and riffs that show off the highlights of their latest album Astraea as well as old favourite ‘Party Wounds’.



This unfortunately is where it stops. With the festival looking sparse on the ground save for the drunken and middle aged, the best of the bands leaving immediately after their sets and the sun setting, I thought it best to quit whilst I was (relatively) ahead. Crooked Ways have a long way to go to secure true strong small festival status, and I would suggest that they might reach this by worrying less about tacked-on aesthetics (extensive merchandise and even branded crooked ways plastic carriers), and focus more on ease of customers, such as names on the stages, stage times for press and perhaps downgrading a little on the highly excessive staff. Not a complete waste of time by any means, but definitely more than earning of their wonky namesake.