All posts tagged big-sound

  • September 13, 2009

    Big Sound 2009: Online Publishing Panel Notes

    On September 9, 2009, I moderated a discussion panel at Big Sound called ‘Blogging, Twittering and Online Publishing: Tastemaking or Time-Wasting?‘. Here’s the precis, taken from the Big Sound site:

    The whole world is online! Whether you’re typing essays for eager fans or 140 character pearls of wisdom, online publishing is quickly becoming the new bastion of communication and online journalism. What is Twitter and why would you use it? How do you start a blog and why would you? Is this online thing just a waste of time? Find out how those that do it well do it and find out why those that fail miss the point.

    The panel featured the input of the following gentlemen [pictured left-right; photo by Justin Edwards just before the discussion began]:

    Online Publishing panel, Big Sound 2009. Deep in thought.

    These were the suggested points of discussion:

    • How important is blogging and online publishing in communicating with music fans?
    • Is Twitter everything it’s hyped up to be?
    • How can you use social networking online to promote your band and how SHOULDN’T you?
    • What’s the best way to start a music blog and what does the audience want?
    • What does online publishing mean for music journalism?

    A couple of days before the panel – notably, after I’d put it off for a fortnight – I sent the following email to the group.

    Hi gents,

    In addition the points of discussion that were provided, I’m going to touch upon on the following topics.

    When I have you introduce yourselves, I’m going to ask each of you:

    • When did you last buy music?, and
    • How do you find new music?

    Online engagement for bands: how much is too much?

    Reading reference: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/index.php/archives/2009/08/14/more-imogen-heap/ and particularly this Imogen Heap quote: “About 5% of my time goes to actually making music sadly. The rest is promo, technical, planning, running around, schedules..blah”

    • Artists have a range of tools and mediums with which to connect to fans; tools such as Twitter et al have lessened the gap between fan and artist. But at the same time, if their attention is focussed on the screen instead of their instruments, will their art suffer?
    • Everett and Jakomi, I’ll use your experience of the pre-web era to draw comment on what it was like when you didn’t have the ability to know where your favourite bands were or what they were doing at that very instant.
    • The ‘always on’ internet culture allows conversation to occur across the world instanteously. Has this removed some of the mystique that has historically attracted audiences to artists and performers? What are the implications?

    Old vs new models of online promotion. Reference: http://sethgodin.typepad.com/seths_blog/2008/03/the-live-music.html

    • It’s a long article, so you’re forgiven for not reading the whole thing. But Godin’s point – here, and throughout his work – is that for musicians, it’s not a matter of shouting at everyone (the old model), but of whispering at your niche (the new model).
    • So instead of signing to a label who can fund mass marketing campaigns (radio, print, TV), it’s smarter for bands to work their existing audience to build it organically, while coming up with creative/interesting/share-able web campaigns to capture wider interest (eg. OK Go’s treadmill video – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv5zWaTEVkI)
    • Jerry and Cam, have you found this to be the case during your time as a manager and artist, respectively?

    More Godin: as for messages to the fanbase from the artist, Godin suggests that these are to be ‘anticipated, personal and relevant’ in every instance. Fans should be thrilled to hear from their favourite bands, and disappointed when anticipated messages are delayed.

    • This is a lovely, utopian vision, but in the real world, is it viable?
    • Elliot, where do record labels sit within this vision? Is it just a matter of streamlining the process of delivering content from the band to the audience?

    Beyond musicians, where do label A&R folk belong in this web discussion?
    Reference: http://www.waycooljnr.com.au/2009/07/14/the-rise-of-blogranage-blog-patronage/

    • Historically, A&Rs are the people who’re exposed to enormous amounts of music, and who often dictate which bands are exposed to wider audiences.
    • Nick Crocker wrote: “I think A&R people at labels should start building their profiles online, developing a following and sharing their stories with fans. Inevitably, A&R people end up being hugely networked musically and build big, smart, connected networks of music lovers. They each have a market ready and waiting for their tales.”
    • Everett, I know you’re comfortable with calling yourself a tastemaker. Do you agree with Nick’s idea, that A&R people should establish themselves as tastemakers? What potential benefits would music fans receive?
    • Jerry, WhoTheHell.net has become a tastemaker after building an audience over several years. In your mind, what is the site’s role among music media? Would it be feasible to base a ‘new media’ music label on the WhoTheHell blog concept?

    Music criticism on the web has given everyone the ability to give their opinion about what’s good and what’s shit. Reference: http://andrewmcmillen.com/2008/11/26/gareth-liddiard-on-music-writing/

    • Gareth from The Drones wrote in a column for Ampersand Magazine: “Music criticism, to quote Chuck D: “You talk about it but you can’t do it.” But now that there is all this blogging shit going on critics have become like mild mannered primary school teachers trying to control their bitchy little charges. Which is funny cause nine out of ten critics are at uni. Blogging has cut the balls off music criticism. But even when critics are being cool it’s still weird. Rock’n’roll is pretty retarded and writing about it is really scraping the literary barrel. Why would you bother? Do something useful for fuck’s sake.”
    • Reactions from the panel? Jakomi, what’s your take on this?
    • Everett, what does this mean for established critics like yourself? I know it’s something you’ve been grappling with. (This’ll give you a chance to discuss your PhD and your findings thus far, perhaps?)

    We’ve focussed heavily on discussing online publishing. But what about the role of print music journalism?

    • Are print readers losing out due to the instantaneous commentary that occurs online, or does the latency/distance between the printed article allow a more measured, less hyperbolic approach?
    • What about album reviews? What’s the point of the reviews we read in street press and music mags, since in many cases by the time they’re printed, the web has already aggregated, rated and reviewed these releases?
    • Note that in July, Sydney street press The Brag opted to stop publishing album and live reviews due to budget quotes. (Source: http://www.messandnoise.com/discussions/1102027) In this instance, what’s the point of the mag, if they’re no longer willing to comment on the music itself?
    • Cameron, which printed music publications do you read? What do you gain from them that you can’t find online?
    • If print audiences are declining – and as a result, advertisers can’t justify their expenditure – where does this leave staffers of the printed article? As music fans, should we care? What do we stand to lose, other than these publications’ reputation and history?
    • Everett, I’ll rely on you here, as you’ve got a history in both publishing and writing for the web.
    • Jakomi, where do you see The Music Void sitting within this discussion? Why did you launch it as a website and not a magazine?
    • What are the alternatives to printed music journalism? What will the music magazine of the future look like?

    On the day, we discussed through most of the above, before 50-60 live human beings.

    I’m told the panel was both entertaining and informative, though by session’s end I was severely doubting the latter, after spending around 90 minutes talking about blogging, which is second only to talking about tweeting in terms of tedium.

    Ian Rogers of No Anchor at their Judith Wright Centre launch, 21 March 2009Ian Rogers of Brisbane bands No Anchor and AxxOnn [pictured right, playing live for the former] wrote this about the panel:

    “I write about myself because no one else will. And I write about music because it’s what I like and because it’s more interesting to other people than writing about babies”. And so Everett True, former Golden God of the British Press and present Brisbane resident introduced himself to the afternoon’s delegates. The panel was about digital publishing and contained a puzzlingly configuration of quiet bloggers (“Uhm, I just like getting the free records”) and industry boffins – one preconscious, one loud and angry. And Everett. Mr True acquitted himself well post-introduction, happily making whatever comment occurred to him – more often than not correct as I read it – as the industry folks shifted around in their seats wondering, ‘Who the fuck is this weird old guy?’.

    [I recommend you read Rogers’ summary of Big Sound days one and two – he’s fucking hilarious]

    In all, it was an enjoyable experience that I’d happily relive. Thanks to Big Sound executive programmer Stephen Green for asking me to take part. I know the panel was filmed by the event organisers so I’ll post the transcript and/or recording when they’re available. My wider thoughts on the event are here.

    2 Comments / Public Speaking /

  • September 13, 2009

    Thoughts On Big Sound 2009

    Studying hard, moments before showtimeSeptember 9-11, I attended Big Sound, my first music conference. I moderated a discussion panel called ‘Blogging, Twittering and Online Publishing: Tastemaking or Time-Wasting?‘, managed a showcase band, Hunz, and reported for The Music Network.

    What did Big Sound 2009 mean to me?

    It meant appearing in my first public speaking role since the occasional presentation throughout my tertiary education. On the day, it was my preparation and familiarity with the subject matter that saw 90 minutes of guided discussion pass without concern on my part. My notes from the panel are here.

    It meant representing an artist whose music I love, and actively inviting others to experience his art and understand his vision. While I’m still coming to terms with the latter, but it was perpetually thrilling to see Hunz describe himself to the unfamiliar, both in meetings and on stage. Their showcase performance was strong, and well-received by the crowd present, based on the feedback we received afterwards. [Photo from the show below]

    Throughout Big Sound, my personal goal was simply to introduce his music to new ears. That may be naive, but we agreed beforehand that there was little point in building up expectations. Whatever happens, happens, but there’s no doubt that their showcase was an overwhelmingly positive experience.

    It also meant becoming more comfortable in crowded social situations. This was networking in the truest form I’ve witnessed since a digital industry event called Interactive Minds, late last year. It was very much a case of rapid-fire socialising, smiling, shaking hands, and exchanging details. Yeah, some of it was superficial. But while the personal connections I made mightn’t all yield results in the short term, in sum, the networking was the most enjoyable element of the event.

    From my perspective, it was cool to have people introduce themselves to me after knowing who I am, which is the opposite to all of my music-related encounters in the past. The coolest example of this was Wally de Backer introducing himself the day after my panel. It took me like 5 seconds to realise that he was Gotye, and another 30 or so for Hans to make the connection to his identity – that is, a source of massive musical inspiration. But I wasn’t like ‘OMG WHAT TO DO?’, but more like ‘oh sweet, he’s keen for a chat’. Wally was there to showcase his other band, The Basics, who are self-managed.

    One of the biggest shifts in my mindset of late is that I’m beginning to accept that ‘famous’ people are just people. It’s something inherently known, but it’s still difficult to accept. Everyone knows the feeling of seeing a public figure in the flesh and being too scared to approach; more and more, I’m abandoning that mindset, and just going after it. Cases in point: approaching both The Dead Sea (whose showcase was one of my highlights) and Yves Klein Blue‘s Michael Tomlinson (who I’d interviewed for jmag the week before) at the Sounds Like Brisbane launch.

    In the Big Sound context, it’s more a case of recognising that these meeting opportunities are extremely limited, and discarding hesitation in the face of time constraints. Again, this is one of the aspects of the event I most enjoyed: the simple act of bringing together so many influential minds that have the ability to make shit happen is the main drawcard.

    Hunz: Bearded, big-mouthedI mean, the conference is nothing without its delegates. No shit, right? I’d read this beforehand and understood it at a basic level, but it really didn’t click for me until I was there among the masses that I realised – hey, any industry is built on the people who work within it. An event like Big Sound simply enables connections between people to happen at a more rapid rate.

    A few people I spoke to questioned why the openness and accessibility on display across the three days couldn’t exist for the other 362. As far as I can comprehend, it’s because shit wouldn’t get done if artists, labels, managers, and promoters kept the gates to their respective castles open at all times. Those few days of meeting and conversing are useful because of their scarcity. In an industry built upon the creation and commodification of a social object – music – it was enlightening and inspiring to meet so many dedicated to sharing with one another.

    I’ll cite Big Sound as the event that affixed a silencer to my pistol of industry skepticism. In an interview with Warner Music CEO and ARIA chairman Ed St John a fortnight ago, I related to him that my increasingly frequent conversations with the people who work within the industry has shifted my view of large companies – like major record labels – from faceless organisations, to groups of decision-making individuals. [Sidenote: read that interview on One Movement Word here]

    That might read like a basic statement to make, and a basic realisation to have. But after spending the best part of a decade – my formative adolescence – reading and participating in online forums where the loudest opinion is often taken as reality, I’m only just starting to unlearn. Nick and I call it ‘blogger’s mentality’, wherein an internal bias colours one’s worldview to the point where it interferes with learning and understanding.

    I’m not suggesting that I’m attempting to remove subjectivity from my observations, because you know as well as I that it’s fucking impossible. Instead, what I’m trying to do is approach every situation, every interaction with an open mind, while placing little value on preconceptions. It’s less naivety, than measured optimism. Lately, I’m of the mind that people – individuals – are inherently good, so I’ll treat them with that respect until proven otherwise.

    To return this realisation to the context of Big Sound, and the wider music industry: I have no time for stories of failed business deals and broken relationships. An individual’s history is less meaningful than how they present themselves in the moment.

    What I’m now aiming to do is assess people on their merits when we meet, rather than relying on markers of their past to colour my perceptions. To me, where you’ve been is less important than where you’re going. In a songwriting context, to wit: you’re only as good as your last song.

    [Thanks to Justin Edwards for the photographs]

    5 Comments / Writing /

  • August 18, 2009

    “What Makes A Great Live Performance?” for Creative Deconstruction

    [A guest post for Refe Tuma over at Creative Deconstruction. Original post here.]

    This is a guest post by Andrew McMillen, a music writer based in Brisbane, Australia. Andrew is coordinating blog content for an Australian music event, One Movement For Music, which debuts in October 2009. The blog at OneMovementWord.com contains interviews with artists and speakers appearing at the event, Australian music news, as well as guest posts exchanged with the likes of Creative Deconstruction’s Refe Tuma.

    The Temper Trap: well-readFor both music fan and critic, the most exciting live music experience is the great unknown. Bearing witness to an act you’d not previously heard, but becoming completely immersed in their art. Becoming an instant convert to their cause. Becoming willing to hit the merch desk immediately after they’re done playing in order to buy something – anything! – that the band have created; to have, to hold, and to listen. Those are the kinds of performances that music critics such as myself love to write about; they’re also the kinds of performances that A&R folk spend their careers trying to witness, in order to sign and release the act’s music on behalf of their label.

    I’ve been a live music critic since June 2007. Two ‘great unknown’ performances stick in my mind. The first was in September 2008. I was reviewing an industry showcase event for the Brisbane-based Big Sound music conference. Four bands each had thirty minutes each to show their wares and attempt to build rapport with a crowd largely comprised of wary industry vets and conference delegates. Second on the bill were Melbourne band The Temper Trap [pictured right], of whom I had no concept. Their first couple of songs were enjoyable, if unremarkable. Then they played the track ‘Sweet Disposition’, which is embedded below.

    The singer’s high vocal range elicited the kind of spinal shivers you can’t manufacture, and the beauty of the chorus hook brought tears to my eyes. Four minutes later, my accomplice and I traded incredulous, “what-the-fuck-just-happened?” looks. One of the most passionate, astonishing and affecting single performances we’d ever seen, is what. I wrote:

    “Witnessing support bands unexpectedly and effortlessly capture the complete attention of an audience is always a joy to behold; the thirty-minute set that unfolds before me is a stellar example of this phenomenon. The Temper Trap’s brilliant pop contains all of the expected ingredients, but with the added spice of Dougy’s incredible voice. The performance of new single Sweet Disposition is one of the most moving, inspiring events I’ve witnessed this year. Outstanding.” – Andrew McMillen, Rave Magazine, September 2008

    No surprises, then, that The Temper Trap used the resultant industry interest to sign a record deal, tour the world and release their debut album to wide acclaim. In a Japanese hostel in June 2009, I saw the video for their track ‘Science Of Fear‘ on MTV, and smiled at the progress the band had made in nine months. This is the kind of rare success story – predicated on pure passion and talent – that unites music fans, music critics and industry professionals.

    My second example is less impressive in market reach, but closer to my heart. In November 2008, I accepted an assignment from my editor to review a couple of local bands on a rainy Thursday night. With a different friend in a tow, and little more than a hope that the bands would be entertaining enough to fulfil our craving for live music – and the necessity to describe the proceedings in 200 words – we were witness to a similarly inspirational performance.

    Hunz, a.k.a. Hans van Vliet. He's totally checking his Facebook.The second band were an electronic pop trio called Hunz [pictured left], of whom I was vaguely aware, based on the animated YouTube short that a workmate had shown me months earlier. My friend and I stood close to stage, among a few dozen of the seemingly equally-ignorant. Before long, we were spellbound by their skilful contrast of dark electronic sounds against uplifting pop melodies. I was one of several to buy the band’s CD from the singer/keyboardist at set’s end, and thanked him for the performance. I wrote:

    “Hunz augments electronic samples with his unique voice and live drum and bass to produce an enchanting sound. Why haven’t we heard him earlier? Blame ineffective promotion, blame infrequent performances; it doesn’t matter, as there’s several dozen new fans appreciating the trio’s thoughtful, restrained pieces. The frontman graciously accepts our hastily-spent cash in exchange for his remarkable debut, When Victims Fight.” – Andrew McMillen, Rave Magazine, November 2008

    That particular musical discovery stuck with me for months. Hunz’s album was never far from my Winamp playlist or iPod scroll-wheel. I shared their music far and wide; months later, I met the man behind the band, singer/keyboardist Hans van Vliet (a.k.a. Hunz). Our mutual appreciation – from humble musician, to music critic and passionate fan – forged a friendship that soon led to an offer to become the band’s manager; a role I continue to inhabit and cherish. View an animated YouTube clip below to get an idea of the band’s sound; visit Hunz’s Bandcamp page to download some tracks for free.

    These two examples are atypical of most live performances I see. While I can eke enjoyment out of the vast majority of shows I attend, my housemates could attest to the regularity with which I arrive home and state a show was merely “okay” or “good”. The reality, though, is that “good” isn’t good enough; “good” means I probably didn’t buy your CD after the show, and that your act probably won’t win their way into my playlist.

    I often read about how there’s more music being played and listened to by more people than ever before, and how the live show is where artists traditionally earn the most coin. Since the role of the music critic – in my mind – is to sort the gold from the pyrite, it’s vital for touring artists to develop an engaging, memorable show that’ll convince guys like me to champion bands like yours. When I review live music, I want to rave about bands I love, instead of painstakingly pinpointing my disappointment. As both critic and fan, I want to be excited and inspired, not bored and unimpressed.

    Written by Andrew McMillen for OneMovementWord.com.

    1 Comment / Writing /

  • May 17, 2009

    A Conversation With Christie Eliezer, music journalist

    Christie Eliezer: owns more reflective sunglasses than youChristie Eliezer. Dude is one of the mostly widely-read music journalists in the world. Though I first heard of Christie through his weekly Australian music industry round-up for themusic.com.au – which is syndicated in one of the publications I write for, Rave Magazine – I soon found that his influence extends far beyond that column. He’s written three music-related books; his latest, High Voltage Rock ‘N’ Roll, was released in 2007. I asked Christie for this interview because he’s a super-huge music journalist, and I wanted to know how he does it and why he loves it. Righteous.

    Christie, your weekly industry round-ups comprise a huge amount of information. Is this your full-time job on behalf of themusic.com.au?

    Writing is my full-time job, but writing for themusic.com.au is just one of the many things that I do. I actually write for about 23 different publications around the world on music, fashion, travel and new technology. In between this, I also do projects like “High Voltage“, which was released two years ago. I’m currently writing a film script.

    I syndicate a column of music industry news not just for themusic.com.au but also to Beat in Melbourne, The Brag in Sydney, Rave in Brisbane and dB in Adelaide. So each week I collect the news, and send different items to different magazines. I also write for the US magazine Billboard, so some of the column goes in there as well.

    I’ve seen your writing in Australian Musician, too. Which do you prefer writing – artist interviews or your weekly industry round-up – and why?

    Every aspect of writing is exciting. I must say, though, that artist interviews are more satisfying. You’re interacting with someone; you’re getting access to aspects of their music that few others do. It’s exciting when the interview goes well – when the journalist has done his or her research, and the artist is responsive. If it’s an artist who has especially touched your life, the feeling is unbeatable.

    The weekly roundup is a bit of a plod; lots of double-checking and hard work. Nothing glamorous there!

    christie_hv_cropYou must get sent newsworthy items for the round-up from many sources. How do you balance keeping the PR hyperbole in check in order to report on factual content?

    The whole idea is to present a picture of what’s been happening in the music scene in any given week. Sometimes it’s a thin line between hype and news. Generally if I feel comfortable, I’ll use the PR stuff. But a lot of the items are scoops and exclusives too, so it balances it out. The amount of people who feed me gossip is amazing!

    Are you your own editor, or is there someone within themusic.com.au who proofs your work each week?

    I always ask for the editors of magazines to look over my stuff. Sometimes when you’re rushing to finish a story, mistakes do slip in. Like the time when Bob Marley‘s band The Wailers were to tour here. My brain meant to say “The late Bob Marley’s former band The Wailers are coming”. But what I wrote — and I must have written it at 2 am — was “Bob Marley and The Wailers are coming”. This would have been a mite difficult as Marley had been dead for years.

    Anyway, one of the local radio stations had a great time sending me up, by saying I had the power to make people come to life.

    I read in High Voltage’s introduction that you became a freelance writer while still at school; what attracted you to this career?

    Partly to impress girls, and partly because I loved music and had a flair for writing. I used to spend a lot of time in record stores and played drums in a high school band – I wasn’t good, nor was the band. I remember the first time I saw the video for The Rolling Stones‘ “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” which was so surreal and eerie that I knew I had to write about it.

    I sent a story to a magazine called Go-Set, and they sent me a cheque. As a 15-year old, this cheque was twice the amount of money I was earning cutting grass and cleaning gutters for neighbours.

    Jaggermouth: highly inspirationalSo I sent in another story. Back came another cheque. Another story. More cheques. Then the editor rang one day and asked if I wanted to interview The Rolling Stones. After that, I was hooked. Plans to become either a lawyer, a political journalist or a diplomat went out the window…

    You’ve been in the industry since before internet usage became widespread, and now you use its capacity for information dissemination to syndicate your column across the world. Can you describe some of the changes you’ve seen in the industry across your 30-odd year career?

    In terms of journalism, in the old days I had to “research” by going through old magazines. Now the internet gives me stuff in half a second – although, a lot of that info can be incorrect, so I do have to double check. Readers get news in seconds, so my approach to journalism is no longer just about breaking stories, but providing background to the stories.

    And yes, my stuff – not just the column, but the other stories I write – is used across the world as a result. Someone estimated I reach a readership of 2.5 million a week.

    In terms of the music industry, the short answer is that the music consumer is now in control. They can buy their record in a minute, which means the record stores or record companies who don’t have their music get ignored. There’s no longer the need to wait for weeks for delivery.

    In the ’70s, if a consumer wanted to watch a music TV show like “Countdown“, they had to wait around the house from 6pm to 7pm on Sundays. Now they can video tape it, or they can see them on their mobiles and watch while they’re on the move.

    The internet also means that music fans can find new styles and acts from other countries while surfing the net, they don’t have to wait for radio DJs or music journos to find these for them.

    However, readers will always follow respected music journos – the ones who help to find new acts for them.

    2.5 million readers per week – that’s astounding. How do you manage the responsibility associated with ensuring that your facts are correct; on deadline, do you just aim for ‘close enough’?

    If you have this attitude “close is enough”, people will stop reading you and magazines will stop paying for your stuff. You have to get it right. If you’re not sure, say you’re not sure. If not, keep the story for a week.

    Your comment about how readers will always follow respected music journalists is interesting. The manner in which blogs and web communities have allowed every punter to voice their opinion has resulted in powerful signals being lost amongst the noise; you’d understand this better than most. In this information age, how has the role of the music journalist changed?

    Christie Eliezer: more comfortable than youIt hasn’t changed all that much. A good journalist will provide info with honesty and impartiality.

    This is different from a blogger like Perez Hilton, who happens to hang out with artists and is now respected only because he breaks news stories. People love gossip!

    The role of the music journalist hasn’t changed much since you started writing?

    Nope, same as ever. Maybe there’s more of a need to be more responsible about what you write, because the internet takes you to billions of people, and you need to be careful of people’s reputations.

    What do you love about music writing?

    The sheer joy of an idea coming to fruition on the page. Your ideas are passed on to others. The biggest thrill is to do an interview which is so good that no-one else can match it.

    What makes an interview so good that no-one else can match it?

    You’ve got to research so well that the person being interviewed becomes comfortable and opens up. Doing the interview at their house helps.

    What do you hate about music writing?

    The long hours. Sometimes I have to work until 3 or 4 am. I love the fact it’s very quiet, but sometimes when the brain is tired, silly mistakes slip through.

    Do you get out to see bands often? What kind of music excites you?

    Yes, all the time! I also listen to demos, browse MySpace pages, talk to others in the music industry, and so on.

    My favourite music is hard rock – The Stones, Zeppelin, The Who, Foo Fighters – but I also like hip hop, R&B, folk and world music. Only country music is something I don’t like.

    How do you recognise a talented music journalist? Or, to phrase it another way: what qualities must a successful music journalist possess, in such a subjective industry that relies heavily upon personal tastes?

    You can be impartial, or, given that music is such a personal taste, be subjective. I personally think you make more impact if you’re impartial with a touch of subjectivity.

    Not exactly a question, but I’m guessing you have an enormous record collection.

    25,000 CDs counted five years ago. Probably close to 30,000 now.

    Whoa. Hefty. What’s your preferred method of listening to music?

    CD or radio. If I turn it up, I like the music. If I turn it down, it’s crap. Very simple really.

    So the iPod’s not good enough for Christie Eliezer?

    iPods are banned at the Eliezer residence. Into the bin!

    No, to be honest. The music’s on all day: either through the CD player in my study, or on the radio when I’m driving, or when I’m checking out acts on MySpace.

    So sometimes it’s nice to take a break. I don’t listen to iPods even though people have given me some as gifts. On long trips, for instance, I prefer to read books or watch movies, just to get a break from music.

    How do you keep your criticism in check when reporting on artists whose music you find terrible?

    You either ignore them, or try like hell to find something!

    You’re speaking at Brisbane’s Big Sound music industry summit in September 2009. Who approached you with this opportunity, and what are you planning to speak about?

    I was approached by Stephen Green, who runs Big Sound.

    Most likely I’ll talk about the need for acts to foster a strong relationship with the media, the need for them to create a strong image, and the best ways to market their acts.

    I spoke at the Fuse Festival in Adelaide in March; I had to turn down speaking at music conferences in Tasmania and Darwin in July because I’ll be overseas, and I’ll be a panellist at the Australasian Music Business Industry conference in Sydney in August.

    What do you enjoy about public speaking? Does it come easily to you, or do you find it difficult to step out from behind the pen, so to speak?

    I used to be terrified in the early days. I was always nervous, and often wondering whether I was being boring or mediocre. But nowadays, I am quite relaxed, and I do enjoy it.

    Music critic Everett True believes in being memorable, above all else, because “if you’re not memorable, then why the fuck are you writing about music?” Agree or disagree?

    Depends on what you are being “memorable” for. Because you’re talented with great taste in music, or you can provide a new perspective to an issue? That’s fine.

    Or because you’re controversial? Or just being trendy? Because you bag big names? The last three reasons are crap.

    Do you strive to be memorable in your writing? What do you want the memory of Christie Eliezer to be associated with?

    Step 1: Write about music. Step 2: ???? Step 3: Babes and profit.

    My writing is going to be around for ages, long after I’ve karked it. So I want to leave a worthy piece of work behind. If there’s a legacy, it’s that Christie Eliezer was part of a movement of rock journalists that improved the quality of rock journalism in Australia and abroad.

    I’d hope people remember me as a writer who was fair and knowledgeable. More importantly, I hope that I made a difference to someone, somewhere.

    Finally – you started music writing to impress girls, or at least in part. Did it work?

    Bloody oath, mate! But I must admit that my singer mates got the good-looking ones, my roadie mates got the ugly ones, and I got the ones who wanted to read poetry to me!

    Be a music journalist, get the babes. I knew I started writing about music for a reason. Thanks, Christie. He can be contacted via email. His excellent Australian music industry weekly round-up is updated each Tuesday afternoon.

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