Jape wins the Choice Music Prize

Last night Jape beat off stiff competition from the likes of Lisa Hannigan, David Holmes and RSAG to win the Choice Music Prize for his album Ritual. Fair play to Richie, the album is great and the €10,000 prize money is well deserved.

In advance of the Choice, I asked Jim Carroll co-founder of the prize a few questions about setting up the competition and how he feels it has progressed since it first began back in 2005. There’s some great advice in there for new bands who want to know about how to successfully promote their music. I should have posted this before last night but better late than never…

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1. In the last four years, how has the Choice Music Prize evolved? Has it done everything you would have hoped from the beginning? Did it have any outcomes that you didn’t expect (generally, not necessarily about who would win)?

It’s evolved to the point where it has completely exceeded everything myself and David Reid (the other co-founder) had in mind when we set it up.

We set it up because no-one else had bothered to do it and we were amazed by this oversight. We wanted it to be kind of like the All-Stars are for for hurling and football and I think, in some small, warped way, we have succeeded. The critics and DJs pick the list and then everyone has a big barney about it.

Our emphasis has always been on getting the shortlist to shine a light on Irish music at a time of year when nothing is going on. In terms of the public and critical reaction and the fact that many shortlisted acts over the years have subsequently reported bumps in sales which they (NOT US!) attribute to Choice, we’re as happy as pigs in shite with what has happened. It’s not just about the winner

Outcomes we didn’t expect? We didn’t expect it to happen so fast. By Year 2, it was a 100, 1000, times bigger and getting more attention than we ever expected. Remember we’re doing this on a frayed shoestring budget – there is no sponsor, no fall-back plan. We get the cash for the prize from IMRO and IRMA and the trophy for RAAP but everything else, from hire of the hall and the production to the press and the marketing, is paid for by the punters who pay for their tickets on the night.

I think myself it has succeeded because of a few factors. (1) The process is completely transparent – you know who the judges are and you know the decision is made on the night. (2) We have huge goodwill from Irish acts, something I certainly didn’t expect (in many ways, Choice is a karma rebalancing exercise for me to offset the slaggings I’ve given Irish acts) - we now know that we wouldn’t have a Choice Music Prize without that goodwill. (3) Goodwill from the industry – they respect what we have done with this and they know we’re doing it with very pure motives. (4) The media love it because they’re at the heart of the process and they know just how scrupulous we are when it comes to choosing the judges. (5) The public seem to like it too because they turn up and pay good money for the show, a fact which means we can keep doing this.

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2. Every year when the shortlist is announced, there’s a reaction from music fans and journalists alike about albums that they feel should have made it on the shortlist. Would you say that an element of some bands not being nominated for the prize comes from poor self promotion? In simple terms, what would you say to the bands who can’t afford 1 - 2 grand for a Pr company?

Bands are shit at promoting themselves and Irish bands are really terrible. BUT YOU DON’T NEED A PR COMPANY TO DO THIS!

Case in point? Julie Feeney. She promoted her debut album herself – she researched what journalists would be into her music, collected their email addresses and got in touch with them. She sent them the CDs and they loved it. She made the Choice list and she won it. Money spent on hiring PR company? Zilch. The same this year with RSAG.

Bands say you can only get on the Choice shortlist – or get on radio or press coverage- with a PR company are lazy sods. You can do it yourself. It never fails to amaze me how terrible Irish bands are at self-promotion. It doesn’t mean becoming Annie Wilkes in Misery and stalking people, but simply getting the fucking music to the people you think will be into your band. It is not rocket science.

Here’s a story for you. Theres one act a lot of people seemed to be surprised didn’t make this year’s shortlist. I happen to like that band’s music and their sound and their attitude and it’s the kind of thing I’d play on my show on Phantom FM. Now, that band didn’t send their CD to me but I know for a fact they sent their CD to other people at Phantom who wouldn’t play their style of music in a million years. How do I know this? Because one night when I was in Phantom throwing something into the bin, I saw the band’s CD in there. True story – and no, I won’t name the act to save their blushes.

It’s so fucking easy to find out who likes what and who doesn’t like what. All it takes is some time and patience but too many acts prefer to park their arses on bar-stools and moan and give out rather than do this. Their loss – especially when they end up paying money to some PR company to do exactly just that

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3. Your Irish Times blog is a great spot for debate and discussion of music, are you surprised by how some of the comments have questioned the credibility and experience of the judges?

No, because a certain amount of blog comments are always going to be inane ramblings from deluded people with chips on their shoulders.

Many of those who have commented on the thread about the Choice Music Prize about the judges don’t really know the first thing about those same judges – and are just too lazy to go off and do some research. It’s easier to rant and rave than realise that someone like Kieran Hurley or Andrew Hamilton or Rigsy or Ian Dempsey has done more for Irish bands and Irish music than they themselves could ever do. One gobshite even attacked Paul McLoone as a host – sure, Paul McLoone has never even hosted the event! Just the kind of basic errors they themselves fume about when someone else does it.

In general, I believe that there is a huge amount of resentment, self-interest, petty bitchiness, jealousy and self-loathing amongst those who question the credibility and experience of the judges. But, as Jay-Z had it, it’s all dirt off my shoulder.

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4. What do you make of peoples reaction to the inclusion of The Script?

“There is only one thing in life worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about” - Oscar Wilde

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5. As a non voting chairperson, you chair the judges discussion of who the ultimate winner should be. How does the process of all the judges coming to an unanimous decision work?

We start by having a hearty meal because condemed men and women should always eat well. We then go into a secluded room in Vicar St and the shouting begins. Over the course of the night, there is a lot of robust talk, debate, jokes, vicious digs at people who are not in the room, bitchy put-downs of the nominated bands, questions from the gentlemen present as to where I got my suit and furniture thrown at the wall.

But the arsing about soon ends and the pressure in the room increases bit by bit. We go through all the albums and, by a process of elimination, whittle the 10 albums down to the eventual winner. The psychology of the whole thing is fascinating to me as an observer - some characters you expected to be really mouthy turn quiet and the quiet ones take over. Watching how a very eloquent judge can persuade people about an album – or, better still, change someone’s mind about an act – is amazing.

Because all the judges take a vow of omerta beforehand not to reveal what is said in the room (and none of the 36 judges to date have broken that – which is amazing when you considerable the amount of gossips in this business), you get the most incredibly open, honest and fortright discussion about music on the night. It truly is life-affirming to hear my peers discuss these 10 albums and acts with such passion and such searing, brutal honesty. It would make an amazing TV show or radio show but it will never happen because you wont get those 12 people to be so open if they know other people will hear it. You’ll get other media whores to talk loud and say nothing but not the judges we pick, which is why we pick the judges that we do. At the Choice Music Prize, what is said in the room stays in the room.

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6. What are your hopes for the future of the Choice?

That myself and David will still have the time, energy, enthusiasm and commitment to keep doing it and that all concerned – IRMA, IMRO, RAAP, Today FM, Aiken Promotions and the amazing team we have working on this – will still have the crack with it.

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MENTAL!

As in let’s go f*cking… I went to see Jape and Friendly Fires tonight in 53 Degrees, “the North West’s premier live music, club and comedy venue.” It was my first gig there, and while I was very impressed by both acts, I spent much of the gig thinking about what bugs me when I go to gigs. The following gripes came to mind during and after the show.

When people barge to the front and don’t apologise - we’re all here for the same thing, so be nice.
When people spend the soundcheck bellowing football chants (as above).
When people spend the whole gig chatting to their mate(s) (although I can be guilty of that sometimes).
When people thrust one hand in the air and sing along to throwaway lyrics like “come oooon” as if they’re the most meaningful lyrics since Sam Cooke wrote A Change Is Gonna Come.
When people scream for the band’s biggest song, which will probably be their encore anyway.
When people scream for songs during quiet parts of a song.
When people think it’s appropriate to mosh to upbeat indie-dance-pop.
When people scream during breakdowns
When crowds sing so loud you can’t hear the band.
Crowd surfing (I’m sorry, I really think this is utterly pointless).
When band-members get into the crowd and adoring fan-girls start stroking said band-members hair.

I realise while writing this that I may come across like Otto in the U2 episode of The Simpsons - “Sit down, you’re ruining it for everyone!” - but I’m 90% certain these, among others, are gripes shared by others. Feel free to add your own…

Future Days Festival: Vicar Street Saturday June 14th

Dan the Man: Pic by Loreana Rushe

As part of last weekend’s Future Days festival, Vicar Street turned into a hip musical playground by hosting a line-up of acts that was so ‘indie’ I’m surprised people weren’t being turned away at the door for not wearing cardigans or hair-slides. Here is a short digest of what went down in the big venue on Saturday night.

High Places
It’s 8.45pm and Vicar Street is worryingly empty. The lights are up before High Places (as they will be between all the acts tonight), and the increased illumination accentuates the cavernous emptiness of the place. We’re in tumbleweed territory before boy/girl Brooklyn duo High Places emerge. However, as soon as they start, the lights drop sharply and people start reverse-melting out of the shadows like vampires. Soon enough, there is a moderate and respectable crowd up front. I know nothing of High Places so I don’t feel all that equipped to comment in detail on their live show. All I can say is it sounds extremely influenced by Animal Collective, and on my first impression, in a derivative and flimsy way. There are sampled tribal-type beats, some live drumming, wigged out sound effects and the girl sings in an insipid, disengaged manner. Post Animal Collective bands are multiplying like bunnies at the moment. But while superficially adapting that band’s current sound might be achievable for groups like High Places, getting near the blistering creative genius behind it is the real challenge. Someone told me their EP is well wort a listen though. So I could be wrong.

White Williams
White Williams are another band I could write what I know about on a postage stamp. According to Wikipedia, this is how their record label describes their new album: “unapologetic pop that flirts with the vacuous nostalgia of the American dream; engaging ambiguous and schizophrenic instruments with impressionistic lyrics, driven by a casually heterosexual backbeat.” Ahem, a casually heterosexual backbeat? The vacuous nostalgia of the American dream? Who writes this shit? As punishment for that sentence I refuse to say anything more about their show apart from this…the lead singer does a freakishly studied Avey Tare (singer from Animal Collective) impression; same hat, same shirt, same dance, same strangled vocal yelps. Tonight Matthew I am going to be someone incredibly more talented than me.

Deerhunter
Just as I’m starting to worry that the world is insidiously being taken over by Animal Collective underlings, Deerhunter emerge to a respectably full venue. They look tired. Bassist Josh Fauver has huge bags under his eyes and singer Bradford is cranky, moaning more than once about the house lights. This could be a real disaster for a band renowned for their erratic live performances. If Deerhunter are in shitty form, they tend to play a shitty gig. It’s as simple as that. They are transparent that way. Somehow, things work out well enough. They don’t exactly bring the house down, but the clutch of new songs from Microcastle sound more alive, more muscular, and dare I say it, more Cryptograms-esque than they did at the last show in Whelans. It’s as if they recorded an album of poppy material because they were bored of drone rock, then took it on the road, realised they were bored of pop and started droning out again. The crowd are familiar with much of the new album (it was leaked a shocking five months ahead of its release date). What I hear tonight is, at the odd intense moment, like the new album being covered by Suicide, Spaceman 3 and Mogwai all at once. A short set is polished off with a ferocious reading of ‘Heatherwood’, which was sadly missed last time around. Man, they look tired though.

Dan Deacon
He does his usual thing, does our Dan, ‘cept on a much bigger scale. For those not familiar with a Dan Deacon show, it’s basically a completely interactive experience. It veers from ridiculously sweaty communal freak-outs in front of a strobey green skull as a crouching Dan messes with pedals and samplers, to his playful hi-jinks that involve, well, everyone. Tonight, these include a massive game of tag that turns the entire crowd into a vortex of sweaty bodies racing around Mr Deacon. He merrily conducts this madness in a pair of luminous pink shorts and a Jar Jar Binks t-shirt. It’s hard to describe these shows without making them sound lame and gimmicky. Rest assured, they are not. All the kerr-azy games hang together on the frame of Deacon’s music which is adventurous, forward-looking and complex. It’s also completely banging. By the end of an epic Wham City (his signature tune) thousands of mad hands are reaching toward a little light bulb that Deacon is holding up as the techno apocalypse crashes all around. Pink Floyd may have lasers and 20 foot high inflatable pigs, but that skull and that little light-bulb are the coolest fucking special effects I’ve seen at a gig. Small is beautiful. I heard this is the last we’ve seen of this incarnation of Deacon. I wonder what his next trick will be?

Richie Lynott? Pic by Loreana Rushe

Jape
Richie Egan must feel the pressure following up Deacon after the hardcore shagging he gave the crowd. It must feel like getting into bed with a spent lover after they’ve done ten rounds with Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt. He even humbly admits toward the end of the gig that he was shitting it. He needn’t have worried. After warming the post-coital crowd up with a few cuts from his solid new record Ritual, things really take off with ‘floating’ and from then on in its a beat-heavy ride to a barn-storming finish with that monster of a track, ‘I was a man’ which plays like ‘floating’’s big brother on ecstasy. The home crowd lap it up. Richie emerges one last time for an encore of newly minted anthem ‘Phil Lynott’ that morphs into a techno kiss-off as a very much alive-and-kicking bass player from Crumlin crowd-surfs through the throngs. Indeed, Jape were so good that midway though their set another Analogue journalist ended up punching himself in the face during a moment of mad self-harming excitement. Rock’n'Roll!