un·pre·ten·tious
1. Not attempting to impress others with an appearance of greater importance, talent, or culture than is actually possessed.
2. (of a place) Pleasantly simple and functional; modest.
Let's pretend music is not all that different to any other industry, for a second. Those that "stick at it" musically, at a public level for a while are at least a little concerned with how much its costing or benefiting them. Ignoring those fringes of indie culture where failure is a cause for celebration... You're a not-just-on-weekends musician, you'd want to maximise your audience, widen your opportunities and keep yourself away from the breadline, right? Cool.
Over the last decade, Australia has seen more young artists than ever stepping up to the crease for a shot at fame, glory, or maybe just a little recognition. Recognition, be it in the form of a gig review, track rating or radio airplay; is becoming less and less of a commodity. There's (almost) no excuse not to get at least a few sets of ears listening to your shit these days.
We can blame a number of things for this lack-of-quality-control. The internet's incredible accessibility and enormous reach is what springs to mind first, but really it is just a defining quality of the times we live in. Unearthed, Soundcloud, Bandcamp, The Hype Machine - all of these places are surely everyday check-in points for label A&R representatives, radio personnel and music blog junkies. If your track is good, and even if its not, somebody is going to find it eventually. You don't stay completely "underground" unless you really try to.
Personal music collections are swamped with more new artists than ever, tracks that are easily forgotten and left at the bottom of the play count, and some that snowball and end up being rather fruitful for the responsible musician(s). When that audience is global, internet-based and ignores the live performance element of the musical melting pot, the playing field is level. The fact that an artist may or may not be Australian doesn't enter in to the equation, until the localised publicity machine kicks in.
And then what? There's a few musical things to try and accomplish before you give up and move to London, or just hock your Strat and work at JB Hi-Fi for the rest of your life. Getting a track on rotation, finding a record label, a booking agency, making a music video. By this point you've probably sunk all your money and are just waiting for that big reward, in the form of sweet, sweet acceptance from the wider Australian public. Finding an actual audience.
An actual audience. One that buys physical copies of things. One that buys concert tickets. Results. Really the only true measure of where our country is really headed musically. Obviously can't all pack out arenas & come up big in the Hottest 100, but its probably fair to say those who can, are probably doing something right. So, who are the Australian public monetarily encouraging to "hit it big"?
Karnivool. Nope, that’s just too weird mate. Strip it down and come back when you've got a clear hook and some lyrics about dating. The proof is in the press release, somewhere between "6-time ARIA Nominated" and "Certified Gold". With the storm of success that has come with songs like Plans, Birds of Tokyo have accomplished what a large percentage of Aussie artists would love to, but are too afraid to neglect their responsibilities as disciples of (Thom) Yorke, and just get it done in 4/4 time.
Sia's Colour The Small One. No, wait, that was for the bloody tie-wearing red wine drinkers. This cut is from the far more Australian We Are Born. Its about staying true to yourself, mate. The dark, mournful persona is gone. Now its all about loving life, selling records and eating craft glue. I've discovered, (after reading her Wikipedia's opening paragraph, declaring Christina Aguilera a "close friend"...) that Sia debuted at a very respectable #2 on the Aussie charts for this effort. Sia's found a way to be more appealing to her home country, and apparently the road was paved with smiles, positivity and pieces of prop candy.
Don't take my sour-grapes tone as the point of this wall of text though. Unpretentiousness certainly doesn't disqualify anyone from anything, clearly. Public acceptance is not a bad thing, in fact it seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel for committed, struggling artists. It just seems an annoying trial (maybe?) to get to the front of mainstream's conciousness and stay there. Especially when there's a finite amount of things you can do with the words "yeah", "baby" and "tonight".
Speaking of which, here's Cut Copy with a nice effort from 2011's Zonoscope. Its all here, the software default BPM, 4/4 time, four-or-five chord changes and the anthemic, soaring honesty that these guys have built a career on. They remain critically the shining beacon of Australian pop music and have had their simplistic persistence rewarded in the charts. They've stuck to what works, and whatever that is; it appeals to the Australian music consumer. If you're scoffing right now, you probably don't really count as a consumer, demographically.
Which brings us to Oh Mercy's Great Barrier Grief, taking the patriotic route to the top. Nothing insufferable about being proud of your country, that’s for sure. Long gone are the Burt Bacharach and Belle & Sebastian comparisons, now its all "Ian Moss" this, and "Paul Kelly" that. And it works, too. Their sonic arrangement doesn't get in the way, they are a fantastic live act, and the band deserve every accolade they've been awarded. There was a particular moment there, in Oh Mercy's timeline - figuratively or literally - where the bombast of New York City was shelved for a nice quiet comfortable stay at an Australian countryside B&B. Add in a Ken Done watercolour, and I'll see you at the ARIAs. I'll be the guy wearing the Driza-bone and Akubra, mate.
I don't know, maybe there's less here than I think. Australian artists are bound to represent Australia as best they can - part of the attraction from overseas listeners is (probably) the fact that we have our own place with its own culture and can kick it with the best of them. However, with so many performers looking to make an immediate impact and then fly the coop, Australia really appears to be an inescapable artistic compound. Nobody's disputing creativity or ambition here, rather - to what extent the industry serves exclusively the Australian public, and whether that supports creative growth outside this country.
One last statistic: Whispering Jack, the era-defining 1986 release by John Farnham, is by a wide margin the highest selling album in Australian history. Honesty, pride and an unpretentious attitude may well be what is so infuriatingly attractive about Australia's leading talent.
