Droplets in the stream

Weighing in (or not) on the discourse

Hi all,

I’m going to get the self-promo out of the way off the top. As I mentioned in the last newsletter, I’m doing some shows this June with some fellow Canadian DIY underground entertainment stalwarts. And now, tickets are available.

Friday June 12 – Hamilton, Ooey Gooey’s with Stephen Hamm: Theremin Man, Wax Mannequin and Man Made Hill * get tickets here

Saturday June 13 – Niagara Falls, Camp Cataract with Stephen Hamm: Theremin Man and Thunderclap!

Sunday June 14 – Toronto, Bovine Sex Club with Stephen Hamm: Theremin Man, Wax Mannequin and Junior Dad * get tickets here

Thursday June 18 – Montreal, P’tit Ours with Stephen Hamm: Theremin Man and Wax Mannequin * get tickets here

Due to a previous obligation, I can’t make the final shows of the tour, but interested parties should also check out Hamm and Wax at Bowie’s in Smiths Falls on Friday June 19 or Ottawa at House of Targ on the 20th.

Astute observers will note that we have a few days off, so if you live in Ontario or Quebec and you’d like to host a couple of Canadian synth-rock legends in your local dive bar, art space or kitchen party on a weekday, hit me up.

Stacking the discourse

Even though Facebook and X/Twitter are well into their death spirals, the tendencies they unleashed in humans still seem to need an outlet.

Ever since Substack launched its own Notes social feed in 2023, the audience has bifurcated. On the one hand, you have the people receiving the newsletters. And on the other, the social feed by and for Substack writers, on which we jockey for status – promoting our own writing and sharing articles of interest, but also weighing in on the hot topics of the day, offering clickbaity hot takes, and staking out contrarian stances by declaring that the new hot thing everyone likes is actually crap.

It’s always tempting to weigh in, but if I sit and think about it, what would be the motivation? To share my work, or to assert status? (And how much is the latter part of the former?) Ultimately, is my take on things actually interesting or important?

The recent kerfuffle over Chaotic Good (the music marketing company that creates fake viral campaigns for artists, ranging from huge mainstream acts to hipster/critic faves) ignited the feeds of musicians and music writers. (This is where I hesitate to go into much more detail, since the music/media Substack insiders will most definitely have heard of this controversy, but for the public at large, I’m less sure. Anyway, if you haven’t heard of it and are interested, this piece could be a good start.) The reactions ranged from mansplaining (this is nothing new, let me educate you) to jaded hipster/Mean Girl snark (you’re all manipulable idiots for being tricked into liking these bands) to, sometimes, a bit of soul-searching (are my deeply personal tastes actually formed by manufactured hype and clever algorithmic targeting?).

As it happens, I have some context I could add to the discourse, since I spent three years working on an (unpublished) book and (currently dormant) podcast, What Is This Music?!, during which I did a decent amount of research into the extra-musical reasons behind people’s musical taste. Among other elements, I got into the history of payola, the mentality of music critics, and the extent to which people can actually be manipulated into liking music. As I look over the results of my since-dimmed obsession, I’m not sure how coherently it holds together as a whole, but I do see a few things that might be salvaged for parts. I just need to figure out what, if anything, is actually interesting about my own takes. (Often, I envy other people’s self-confidence. But sometimes, I feel like they could use a bit more of my self-doubt.)

But the biggest feeling I had reading about the music-marketing scheme, which I didn’t see reflected anywhere else, was relief. Any (honest) artist would admit that when someone else is more successful, you think: why them and not me? And now, I feel like I have some insight into why.

My kicks at the can

I recently saw the movie Mile End Kicks. I’m not here to weigh in at any length on the Mile End Kicks discourse (my take: it was a cute, insubstantial but charming little romp, and the criticism that it doesn’t reflect the “real” Montreal entirely misses the point; the autobiographical protagonist’s inability to “get” the city is a central theme of the movie). I saw it largely out of curiosity when someone reported back to me that a performance in the film (when the lead singer of the band does a solo show at a loft party) was blatantly copping my style – I have it on good authority that not one but two local music critics exclaimed that the guy was “doing” me. While I can see how people might think that, it’s also possible that writer/director Chandler Levack, actor Stanley Simons and I are just drawing from the same well of glam/punk/New Wave performance gestures.

But then, I was around and performing regularly in the 2000s Montreal music community. It’s possible that my influence seeped in a little. I am but a drop of water in the flowing stream of musical history… but I am known to make the odd impression along the way.

Until next time,

xo WP.