This article was original published on Mess + Noise on 3 March 2014.
It seems that Shaun Prescott’s recent review of School of Radiant Living’s self-titled LP has created a flow-on of articles focusing on what Shaun has termed "the space before dolewave." Both Max Easton and Ian Rogers have lent their voices to the discussion, with the three of them focusing on the social, musical and political environs that brought about this strain of seemingly apathetic, Australian guitar-pop.
I’m not going to add further to their discussion, as following their three excellent pieces there is very little left to add. Instead, triggered by Shaun’s statement regarding the rejection of "neo-liberal, self-improvement, mortgage-till-death, make-a-buck-or-die, protect-at-all-costs impulses" as a key motivator of dolewave, I would like to examine its connection to the Australian punk movement of the late '70s and early '80s. Of course these two movements are entirely different, both musically and aesthetically, but beneath their differences lies a common denominator.
In a recent interview with Melbourne punk veteran Stu Grant of Primitive Calculators, entitled 'Extreme Noise, Evolutionary Love and the Death of Journalism', I discussed with him what he considered to be the defining message of the punk movement in Australia. Word for word it was: "What the fuck is this? What sort of life is this? You work in a factory to buy this little house and then you fucking die." Stu’s style is much more direct than Shaun’s (just listen to the lyrics to 'C#nt') but essentially they were saying the same thing: that each of these movements rejected this 'mortgage-till-death' philosophy. My natural instinct at this revelation was to try and reconcile what has precipitated such a difference between the two, something that I’ll try to do now.
The heart of the punk movement of the '70s and early '80s took its focus from the bland suburban existence that youth were subjected to in, and around, the suburban areas of major Australian cities, primarily Melbourne. Key members of bands like Primitive Calculators and Whirlywirld were kids from the suburbs, while some members of The Boys Next Door came from rural origins. The cultural aspects of the movement were centred in nihilism, brought about by boredom and a urge to revolt against societal limitations.
However, as well as being an expression of anger, punk was an attempt to enlighten people to the futility of living this 'mortgage-till-death' life. As Stu put it in our interview, they tried, using "extreme noise", to "create some kind of crack in human consciousness of the world that would suddenly make people want to be liberated from the chains of bondage." As primitive, and wishful, as this may seem, punk music was intended as a force for change.
Dolewave could not be more different. It doesn’t look to change anything. Its approach is one of begrudging acceptance of a system that crushes its creative aspirations and celebrating, ironically, the failure to achieve the societal definition of success. As Shaun put it, it is "intrinsically depressed," a romanticism of "the few virtuous characteristics of white colonial Australia" and a lament for artists unable to disassociate their art with poverty. It carries none of the aggression of punk and makes no attempt to enlighten anyone. It also provides, in the songs that focus on what Ian Roger’s piece termed "some of the more blissful moments extracted from the mess," a jaunt in escapism that reminds us that life can still be enjoyable on the cheap.
The reasons for these vast differences was not immediately clear to me. Indeed, it took me several attempts at writing and rewriting before something that might warrant the title of a theory presented itself. At first I came up with the rather flimsy idea that it was the all-encompassing nature of 'mortgage-till-death' in modern Australia. However, the punk movement didn’t really have it much easier. Ultimately, for me, the key lay in the differing attitudes towards youth, particularly in the attitudes to creative career aspirations, at the different times of the two movements.
For the people who grew up to become part of the punk movement, encouragement to pursue a career in the arts was almost nonexistent. In the '50s, the mere suggestion that you could forge a meaningful career out of being a musician or artist or, in some cases, even go to university, was routinely laughed off by teachers and parents alike. Today it’s an entirely different situation. It is reinforced throughout our childhood and formative years that, whatever our chosen course is, if we put our minds to it we can do anything and that with perseverance we will ultimately succeed. Our parents, most of whom had either experienced or grown up after the effects of the music revolution of the '50s and '60s, were much more open-minded than their own had been.
Punks, in part thanks to their hardline upbringing, felt it was not their own failure but the failure of the system that condemned them to a bland existence. They were told that art could not flourish in the system and this triggered a desire to overthrow it. The psychology of dolewave is somewhat more complex. Thanks to that constant mantra of "try and you will succeed," instead of being angry at a system that doesn’t work we are left with unrealistic expectations and a feeling of personal failure. We’ve accepted the system, having lived our lives thus far under the illusion that we can exist as we want under it. In our minds, our failure to thrive is our own. From here it’s not hard to come to the simple conclusion that the reason dolewave is so apathetic is that you can’t rage against what you can’t blame.
So yes, as Prescott, Easton and Rogers have said, dolewave is "poignantly beautiful" and allows us to drift away in its beautiful romanticisms of worry-free backyard BBQs and picnics by the beach. But to me, despite its inoffensive musical makeup, it is unsettling. It is, essentially, an acceptance of a system that shits on art and leaves it forever associated with poverty. Self-deprecating lyrics, in-jokes about ignorant yuppie social-climbers and remembering how good it was that day we all got drunk in a friend’s garage are all well and good. In fact, at times, they’re great. But, sometimes if feel I would rather that dolewave wasn’t so "intrinsically depressed" and "poignantly beautiful," but wanted to simultaneously fuck up the system and enlighten the masses to the plight of our society.
In short, someone please tell me punk’s not dead.
I’m not going to add further to their discussion, as following their three excellent pieces there is very little left to add. Instead, triggered by Shaun’s statement regarding the rejection of "neo-liberal, self-improvement, mortgage-till-death, make-a-buck-or-die, protect-at-all-costs impulses" as a key motivator of dolewave, I would like to examine its connection to the Australian punk movement of the late '70s and early '80s. Of course these two movements are entirely different, both musically and aesthetically, but beneath their differences lies a common denominator.
In a recent interview with Melbourne punk veteran Stu Grant of Primitive Calculators, entitled 'Extreme Noise, Evolutionary Love and the Death of Journalism', I discussed with him what he considered to be the defining message of the punk movement in Australia. Word for word it was: "What the fuck is this? What sort of life is this? You work in a factory to buy this little house and then you fucking die." Stu’s style is much more direct than Shaun’s (just listen to the lyrics to 'C#nt') but essentially they were saying the same thing: that each of these movements rejected this 'mortgage-till-death' philosophy. My natural instinct at this revelation was to try and reconcile what has precipitated such a difference between the two, something that I’ll try to do now.
The heart of the punk movement of the '70s and early '80s took its focus from the bland suburban existence that youth were subjected to in, and around, the suburban areas of major Australian cities, primarily Melbourne. Key members of bands like Primitive Calculators and Whirlywirld were kids from the suburbs, while some members of The Boys Next Door came from rural origins. The cultural aspects of the movement were centred in nihilism, brought about by boredom and a urge to revolt against societal limitations.
However, as well as being an expression of anger, punk was an attempt to enlighten people to the futility of living this 'mortgage-till-death' life. As Stu put it in our interview, they tried, using "extreme noise", to "create some kind of crack in human consciousness of the world that would suddenly make people want to be liberated from the chains of bondage." As primitive, and wishful, as this may seem, punk music was intended as a force for change.
Dolewave could not be more different. It doesn’t look to change anything. Its approach is one of begrudging acceptance of a system that crushes its creative aspirations and celebrating, ironically, the failure to achieve the societal definition of success. As Shaun put it, it is "intrinsically depressed," a romanticism of "the few virtuous characteristics of white colonial Australia" and a lament for artists unable to disassociate their art with poverty. It carries none of the aggression of punk and makes no attempt to enlighten anyone. It also provides, in the songs that focus on what Ian Roger’s piece termed "some of the more blissful moments extracted from the mess," a jaunt in escapism that reminds us that life can still be enjoyable on the cheap.
The reasons for these vast differences was not immediately clear to me. Indeed, it took me several attempts at writing and rewriting before something that might warrant the title of a theory presented itself. At first I came up with the rather flimsy idea that it was the all-encompassing nature of 'mortgage-till-death' in modern Australia. However, the punk movement didn’t really have it much easier. Ultimately, for me, the key lay in the differing attitudes towards youth, particularly in the attitudes to creative career aspirations, at the different times of the two movements.
For the people who grew up to become part of the punk movement, encouragement to pursue a career in the arts was almost nonexistent. In the '50s, the mere suggestion that you could forge a meaningful career out of being a musician or artist or, in some cases, even go to university, was routinely laughed off by teachers and parents alike. Today it’s an entirely different situation. It is reinforced throughout our childhood and formative years that, whatever our chosen course is, if we put our minds to it we can do anything and that with perseverance we will ultimately succeed. Our parents, most of whom had either experienced or grown up after the effects of the music revolution of the '50s and '60s, were much more open-minded than their own had been.
Punks, in part thanks to their hardline upbringing, felt it was not their own failure but the failure of the system that condemned them to a bland existence. They were told that art could not flourish in the system and this triggered a desire to overthrow it. The psychology of dolewave is somewhat more complex. Thanks to that constant mantra of "try and you will succeed," instead of being angry at a system that doesn’t work we are left with unrealistic expectations and a feeling of personal failure. We’ve accepted the system, having lived our lives thus far under the illusion that we can exist as we want under it. In our minds, our failure to thrive is our own. From here it’s not hard to come to the simple conclusion that the reason dolewave is so apathetic is that you can’t rage against what you can’t blame.
So yes, as Prescott, Easton and Rogers have said, dolewave is "poignantly beautiful" and allows us to drift away in its beautiful romanticisms of worry-free backyard BBQs and picnics by the beach. But to me, despite its inoffensive musical makeup, it is unsettling. It is, essentially, an acceptance of a system that shits on art and leaves it forever associated with poverty. Self-deprecating lyrics, in-jokes about ignorant yuppie social-climbers and remembering how good it was that day we all got drunk in a friend’s garage are all well and good. In fact, at times, they’re great. But, sometimes if feel I would rather that dolewave wasn’t so "intrinsically depressed" and "poignantly beautiful," but wanted to simultaneously fuck up the system and enlighten the masses to the plight of our society.
In short, someone please tell me punk’s not dead.