Regardless of genre, live local scene should be supported and embraced
If Columbia’s music scene has been on life support at any time during the past few years, recent offerings have added some hope for resuscitation. It seems that our city is realizing the importance of attracting high-level musical talent and keeping our clubs alive. Within the past year, live music has started to become appreciated once again with new clubs opening for business and concerts being held that attract a diverse demographic.
It used to bother me that Montgomery Gentry and Brooks & Dunn were the only acts that traveled through Columbia and sold out the Colonial Center. This was such a far cry from the 1992 mindset where Paul McCartney, Public Enemy, The Rolling Stones and U2 all played within a year of one another — filling Williams-Brice with classic tunes while their young prodigies dominated the Township and similar venues around town. Over time, that mindset seemed to die. Clubs in Five Points closed their doors and the Vista remained a no man’s land filled with crime and dilapidation and no hint of a musical awakening in the near future.
That seems to be changing; the attitude of Columbia’s art scene is in full force. But sometimes with hope comes a whole new demon.
For those of you who like “the primal intergalactic shape-shifting starship experience all packed into one steamy room of grinding, orgiastic expression and musical experimentation known as a bass ritual,” I have one thing to say to you: fart sound music rots your brain, hippie.
I realize that your recent induction into the shady underground of electronic dubstep totally makes you open-minded and different from the spoiled brat you were a year ago, but daddy is still buying the tickets and supplies for your shape-shifting womp experience. The greatest service my dad did in preventing my transition to Wookiee-status was putting on The Allman Brothers Band’s At Fillmore East when I was about nine years old, and telling me that synthesizers support terrorism and should be avoided in nearly every setting. From Devo of the 80s, to Telepathe now, I realize the lack of musical complexity in electronic dubstep. Whether or not dad’s advice was necessarily correct, I stand firm in my assumption that skipping town to become a part-time Wookiee for Bassnectar is a slightly better idea than putting dishes in a washing machine. I’ve done both and can say that I was equally embarrassed afterwards.
If my words can’t convince you otherwise, keep doing what you’re doing. Go to shows and make concerts more feasible for the promoters. There are at least 30,000 people here on campus who love listening to somebody, so get out and support our scene to help bring the wholesome guitar solos back to Columbia. Check your fart sound machine at the door, but enjoy the awesome experience of live music.