I still hate Facebook (mostly)

Although I kind of like the idea of being some kind of Norwich live music Nazi, telling everyone what gigs to go to every month, it’s starting to get a bit lonely writing Liveline on my own. There’s loads of us Outline writers out there and I thought it would be good to see what gigs everyone else thought would be worth going to. But every time I brought this subject up, I was met with the same response: ‘Get on Facebook – that’s where it all happens.’

You see, I’ve never had a Facebook account. I find it awkward enough avoiding people in real life. I work in a popular local pub, which means that everyone within half a mile of where I live knows who I am. Now don’t get me wrong, I think that people are okay – some of my best friends are people – but sometimes I just like a bit of anonymity. Is that so wrong?

So the internet has always been something of a haven for me, where no-one knows what I’m up to. And, oh God, you really don’t want to know what I’m up to there.

But anyway, against my better judgement, yesterday I signed up for a Facebook account, and within a few hours all my worst fears became a reality. “Would you like to look for other Outline Magazine writers?” chirped some mysterious Facebook voice. WTF? (I had a brief flirtation with Twitter last year too) I didn’t tell you I wrote for Outline. You bastards. And what’s this? You want me to be friends with my mum? How do you even know her? Does my dad know about this? Oh Christ, he does! There he is, under “suggestions”.

I wrote a gently sardonic blurb under a picture of my reluctant-to-join-Facebook face. It goes like this: “This page has been set for Outline Magazine stuff. I did it reluctantly (observe my reluctant face). If you are someone else, then I probably won’t be friends with you on Facebook, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t think you’re cool.” This didn’t help. Two hours later, I had seven friend requests. Only one of them was someone from Outline.

Much of my spare time yesterday was spent sending Facebook messages to a bunch of people – people who I actually do think are pretty cool – that say things like “Um, maybe you didn’t read the blurb that I wrote but I’m not gonna be Facebook friends with you. I’d still like to be real life friends with you though.” I got some enlightening replies, messages back that said stuff like, “That’s ok, stick to your guns” and “Sorry, it’s those evil Facebook grubbers suggesting your name.”

Is it me or do all you Facebook people hate it too? A little bit, I mean. Another of my mates who contacted me yesterday wrote this: “What’s scary though (and also why I get the reluctance to join) is that we have no friends in common yet you came up on my friends suggestions! How did it know I knew you?!?! Scary shit indeed.” Last night I had another peek at my account, and found a compromising photo of one of my new “friends” that someone else had tagged with her name. This was hastily removed, but not before I had clicked on it. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t normally do something like that, It just seems to me that Facebook breeds creepiness. Before this, I’d already found myself casually cyberstalking a girl I quite like. I’m disgusting. We’re all disgusting. We’re living in a world where violation of everyone else’s privacy is normal and – what’s worse – we’re all complicit.

But I do get the attraction. I’ve so far managed to resist filling in my profile information, but I don’t know how long I can hold out. I love talking about myself – I’ve just spent the last half hour doing it right here – but I’ve always thought of it as a negative character trait, not something to embrace. Also, I’m going out for a drink in a few weeks with my friend Vicki, who I haven’t seen in ages, because she contacted me on Facebook. Oh God, please don’t let me become one of… them

TweeOFF!

Has anyone heard of tweecore? Got a tweecore playlist on your iPod have you? Have you? No, and why not? Because it’s an absurd name for a genre, made up by music journalists (real ones that is, not pretend ones like me) and it doesn’t really exist, that’s why not.

The concoction of ever more ridiculous genre descriptions such as tweecore or – I don’t know – mathstep maybe, or shit-hop – whatever – enraged a bunch of music fans at Norwich Arts Centre so much that they decided to do something about it. That was how the NAC’s sometimes monthly, sometimes not, live music event series TweeOFF! came into being. Its aims are simple. Since music genres are essentially irrelevant now – except to the people who write about them – it makes a lot more sense just to bring bands that are doing something, anything, fun and exciting to the people in Norwich who are into fun and excitement.
In the year or so that TweeOFF! has been operating, they’ve managed to seduce an impressive list of names into Norwich, including Scottish band Errors (coming up 12th March) and LA based Health, who later said that their gig at the NAC was the best date on their tour. Bands like coming to Norwich. We underestimate ourselves. We get so used to missing out on our favourite bands when they tour that we somehow think that they don’t want to come here. ‘Band members: us and you,’ is scrawled on TweeOFF!’s MySpace page. ‘If we build it they will come’

And this is the beauty of TweeOFF! They recognise the importance of the relationship between band and audience. It’s two way. Health performed much of their set at the NAC from within the crowd; B K and Dad played a set from the side of the room. ‘We like to give the audience something they’re not expecting.’ Anyone checking out the Errors gig this month may be in for something even more outlandish from local electronica act Sukoshi.
Whereas many of the bands playing at other venues in Norwich are somewhere on the gentle decline from glory (I didn’t mention any names, Reef; don’t get so paranoid), TweeOFF! Specifically look for bands that are still excited about performing live, and will therefore be exciting to watch. You should probably start going – see you on the 12th.

NROne Records 5th Birthday Party @ NAC – 12.02.10

by Dan Bleksley

If you’re anything like me then you’re probably a bit sick of everything that’s written about Norwich music referencing that NME future 50 list from last year – you know, the one that says that Norwich is the “home of real indie”. Is it? I thought. Is it really? It was a bit like a guest praising you for the delicious dinner that you thought was burned.

I’ve been following local music for a long time now, and maybe I’m just a little jaded, but I’ve come to think of Norwich as being a perennial underachiever in music. Norwich is the stoner with an MA in English literature and the potential to do anything, rolling another fat one on the sofa whilst watching daytime repeats of Come Dine With Me on More 4. You see, while there are undeniably some fantastic bands in the city, I’d like to challenge anyone from outside Norfolk to name one.

I’d love to be proven wrong though. I want my belief in Norwich indie music back. Tonight the NAC hosts the fifth birthday celebration of NROne, a label that got special mention in that NME article. NROne have done as much as anyone to promote local music, so this should be a pretty good chance for me to get excited again.

Sadly, on this occasion, that doesn’t happen.

I don’t want to be hasty, but come on. Look. The Kabeedies, for example. It’s not just me, is it? They look like a bunch of Blue Peter presenters and young bank cashiers letting off steam. Or maybe like a Christian rock band. They sound like one as well. “Life isn’t like that, so why not relax?” they yelp in unison. I mean okay, they’re really tight and their sound is crisp and precise. I’m not saying they’re terrible – cause they’re not – but please. When I hear a young guitar band, I want to be properly kicked in the balls by them. These Ghosts and The Barlights are a similar affair. Yeah they’re good, sure, but I’m bored. Violet Violet are better, but maybe a bit too oblique for the indie crowd and lacking any real immediacy.

The Brownies are the one exception. Any more ball-kicking from them and I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. Vocalist Sophie Little owns that stage, with an unruly blend of aggression and mischief. Twins Stevie and Maxie Gedge (eagle-eyed readers may recognise that name) by contrast look like they’ve been transported straight out of an early Hole video, stooped over guitars, all sullen and moody. More of this please. A night with the twins is promised to anyone who can identify the song that they’re about to cover (it was a Yeah Yeah Yeahs tune by the way – no offense for not being vocal about that, ladies, only I was a little scared of what might happen). Listen to The Brownies here. Do it now. They’re looking like the band most likely to escape Norwich and make a success of themselves.

But that’s kind of the problem: the desire to escape. Several years ago, back when I was in a band that was trying to escape Norwich, I was playing a gig at Sound in Leicester Square. After we played, someone asked me if we were from Norwich. I asked her how she could tell and she replied, “You know. You have that Norwich sound.” Somehow that was the worst thing she could have said. I thought that we’d worked pretty hard not to have that Norwich sound and, in retrospect, that’s probably why we weren’t all that good. We can champion Norwich all we like, but nobody really wants to be thought of as a Norwich band.

Here’s what I think: cities like Manchester, like Bristol or Liverpool – cities that have had great influential music scenes – are cities in which bands listen to each other. Each of the bands here tonight, as talented as they may be, don’t really sound like they do that. They might have “that Norwich sound”, but that’s only because they’re writing music in the same place. In terms of their intentions, Violet Violet are nothing like the Barlights or any of the other bands on the line-up. Sure, Norwich is a small city, and it’s geographically isolated – perhaps making for a slightly stagnant musical gene pool -  but I’ll be surprised if it gains the recognition that so many journalists are predicting if we don’t start seeing bands being influenced by other Norwich bands. Maybe then, I’ll get that kicking in the balls a bit more frequently. Listen to The Brownies. Listen to Death of Death of Discotheque (I wrote good things about them here). Norwich, I know you can do better.