Much Better Sundays

So, how awesome was Amanda Palmer when she played Wellington last week? All the awesome, that’s right. I’m not saying stuff didn’t go wrong, because a lot went wrong. Playing standing up is harder than you’d think (even if the short people do love you for it). The keyboard conked in the middle of more than one song. But it didn’t matter, because it was Amanda fucking Palmer, and she was awesome.

It didn’t matter because the experience of being there was more than just the music. What she played and how ‘good’ it was doesn’t figure much in my memories of the show. More of it is how Amanda actually engages with her audience – I think the only person I’ve ever seen talk more was Ian MacKaye with The Evens.

It’s not just a few jokes and stories, it’s how she makes the audience feel like they matter, what she’s willing to do for them. I mean, she must have been bloody exhausted, but that didn’t stop her from giving us her all.

Here’s Amanda Palmer singing ‘New Zealand’, a song she wrote in 25 minutes after someone expressed jealousy that Australia got a song:

Thus fueling the trans-Tasman battle for another generation!

At the end of the show, after the encore, she came out in her bra & stockings, climbed onto the bar with her ukelele, and we all sang along (not for the first time) as she played ‘Creep’. Isn’t it nice to have an excuse to be dorks en masse?

To fangirl about someone else for a second, Battle Circus opened the show, and they played a great set. It was gratifying to see them get a good reaction, because Wellington has not had a history of appreciating them – my mother, who has been to three of their shows here, will vouch for this. They deserve a big audience.

So, one of the boys who I did geology with has a blog. Really, I should have known better than to read it. Seeing as how we once had a heated debate on whether or not women were inherently more emotional than men, it was inevitable that something should piss me off.

So, in his latest entry, he starts off talking about bands, and the nature of hit singles. Which would be all very well, except that he has to go and say this:

In a recording studio though, or just a jamming jive session, and the men are playing their instruments and making the beats together just so. And then the observing crowds of women are in moving agreement that it is a good song being played and that they are hearing.

Because bands are only ever made up of men. Us ladies just have to stay in the audience and worship. God forbid a woman should pick up a guitar, or play the piano, or ever try and create anything. No, that never happens.

And why is it only women listening to the music? If only! Then I wouldn’t have to get annoyed at tall guys who stand in front of you and get in your space. But funnily enough, heterosexual men are quite happy to listen to music created by other men. Sometimes they even dance.

The perceived musician-audience divide is pity enough without having to go and gender it. It seems to me that in doing so, you’re reducing music to a matter of courtship. The men are showing off their skills, and the women are judging them on it. And this wonderful, transcendent-immanent thing called music is reduced to being all about sex.

Sure, I appreciate it when a band has cute guys in it. I also appreciate seeing awesome women up on the stage, and funnily enough I appreciate music even when I don’t find any of the band members attractive, I appreciate it when I have no idea who they are, and I don’t care. It’s the music that moves me, not the musician.

Speaking of that non-existent entity, the female musician, Amanda Palmer played Wellington last night. It was awesome, and she totally wins at everything. But I think that will have to be another post in itself.

This is Your Brain on Music is one of several books to come out in recent years to explore the science of music. Daniel Levitin is a former record producer turned neuroscientist, interested in how music works, how your brain makes sense of it. I’ve come away from the book with a new appreciation for just how clever a contraption the ear is.

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