Sometimes people you know do things that make you feel...bloody jealous, actually.
My friend Wolvo went to a BBQ a couple of years back and met this bloke who had just started a band. Every second dude you meet has just started a band, so what? This is no ordinary rock band, though. The other band members have some form of mental or physical disability. Unlike many bands all are excellent musicians. They call themselves Rudely Interrupted. Nice story so far.
But there's so much more. The Wolvo machine swung into action, taking over promotion, bookings and road managing. When he relocated to Brooklyn he managed to talk his way into a gig for them at the UN in New York. It's understandable how the feeble minds of the UN were powerless in the face of his charming ways - I have fallen under his spell many times myself.
On December 3rd Rudely Interrupted played at the UN. First rock band ever to do so. In your face, Irish super group. That night they played a gig in Brooklyn, and the next night in Manhattan, then in Canada and then a few gigs in the UK before heading home. The reviews have been brilliant ('...they're already leaps and bounds ahead of Jet' is my favourite).
Every good band needs two things - talent and a hook. The Smiths' hook was being the most miserable band in the world. Bon Jovi's was being the hairiest, although Def Leppard may want to rumble for that title, and what an excellent fight card that would make. The Rudie's hook is just more real than most.
Rudely Interrupted are sniffing around for a record deal. Rock on.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Friday, December 5, 2008
No Spec for me, thanks
I'm not talking about the fatty meat from a pig-obsessed corner of Europe. I can't think of a reason for ever saying no to more of that.
I'm talking about the kind of spec that involves me as a freelancer being expected to provide copy without contract or promise of payment, while simultaneously being asked to believe that if the 'editor' wants to use it they will then pay me for it. Sure you will.
This has been a hot topic on freelance writing sites since Al Gore invented the internoodle. Knocking out 1000 words and then trying to sell it to someone is the least efficient way to make a living as a freelance writer. Or the most efficient way to ensure a beans on toast dinner. Every night. Forever.
No, freelancers like certainty in their lives. Coffee. Gin. Tax deductible office goods. A buyer contracted to purchase your work before you get out of bed.
But with more and more people getting into freelancing (thanks to Al and his magical communication device) and the publishing world changing too, the economics have gone to pot. It's gotten so bad that there are people bidding for jobs for as low as a cent a word. A cent! That's a whole tenner for 1000 words of carefully conceived and thoughtfully bled-over copy. Who are these writers?
They're students, or people in countries where $10 is actually $200 and English is not the first language. So much for quality. Every time one of these low-rent scribblers takes on a job for this price the global slouch of writers suffers. That editor, and every editor they tell, will never pay full price again, and will probably want their car washed too.
A situation born of the noodle is now being attacked by the noodle. Freelancers are now harnessing their collective powers and energies against the evil spec by err, complaining a lot, selling t-shirts and designing posters (on spec, it has to be said).
Actually they're fighting the good fight. Good on them. I can't see how they can win, though. When supply presents itself to demand with legs akimbo even Marilyn standing over a metro grill won't distract from a fast and dirty consummation.
I'm talking about the kind of spec that involves me as a freelancer being expected to provide copy without contract or promise of payment, while simultaneously being asked to believe that if the 'editor' wants to use it they will then pay me for it. Sure you will.
This has been a hot topic on freelance writing sites since Al Gore invented the internoodle. Knocking out 1000 words and then trying to sell it to someone is the least efficient way to make a living as a freelance writer. Or the most efficient way to ensure a beans on toast dinner. Every night. Forever.
No, freelancers like certainty in their lives. Coffee. Gin. Tax deductible office goods. A buyer contracted to purchase your work before you get out of bed.
But with more and more people getting into freelancing (thanks to Al and his magical communication device) and the publishing world changing too, the economics have gone to pot. It's gotten so bad that there are people bidding for jobs for as low as a cent a word. A cent! That's a whole tenner for 1000 words of carefully conceived and thoughtfully bled-over copy. Who are these writers?
They're students, or people in countries where $10 is actually $200 and English is not the first language. So much for quality. Every time one of these low-rent scribblers takes on a job for this price the global slouch of writers suffers. That editor, and every editor they tell, will never pay full price again, and will probably want their car washed too.
A situation born of the noodle is now being attacked by the noodle. Freelancers are now harnessing their collective powers and energies against the evil spec by err, complaining a lot, selling t-shirts and designing posters (on spec, it has to be said).
Actually they're fighting the good fight. Good on them. I can't see how they can win, though. When supply presents itself to demand with legs akimbo even Marilyn standing over a metro grill won't distract from a fast and dirty consummation.
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