Yes, it’s true: I’ve decided that once I’ve finished writing Music Journalism 101 (very soon, that will happen!) I’m going to develop it as a free, shareable ebook that you can distribute under a Creative Commons license. But in order to do this, I need your help.

I want ideas for additional content!

While I am going to edit and potentially revise the course content prior to pulling the content together, I have been thinking that I might jazz it up a bit. I was thinking of all sorts of possible inclusions, such as samples of my own work: interviews, reviews of releases and events; or possibly additional exercises; plus maybe a farm of links to recommended reading online… the list goes on.

So, I want your feedback. As potential readers of this book, what would you want to see? And what would make it valuable for you to read and go back to as a resource? Please add comments if you have other ideas not covered by the poll. Thanks!

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Past posts you might dig:

1. Music Journalism 101 j. Writing the feature article.
2. Music Journalism 101 g. Preparing for interviews
3. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.

The previous three instalments took you through preparing for interviews, and conducting interviews by phone and by email. Having got your skills down in actually doing the interview, your work is only two-thirds done. Now it’s time to learn how to pull it together. This is where your writing skills are vital, and why I’ve always stated that the best music journos are writers first and fans last.

Writing anything always comes down to purpose and audience. Without a strong sense of purpose, your writing will wander; without a strong sense of audience, anything you write will fail to hit the mark with your readers.

To some extent, music journalists and critics have it fairly easy because they always write for a defined audience, and, usually, they have a defined purpose. The purpose will usually be explained to you when the interview is confirmed: it is usually to promote a new album, or to promote a new tour. Such interviews easily comprise 90% of a music journalist’s work.

The daunting thing is knowing that if you’re a metal music journalist, that vast numbers of metal fans are very much metal geeks, and will generally have some sort of criticism about your work. This is why doing your research is so vitally important, especially if you are not incredibly familiar with a band. Even if you are not a metal geek, you can still do amazing work provided that your research is tight and you set high standards for yourself.

Good writing skills, as I mentioned above, are vitally important. One of the ‘standard’ formats for interviews in metal journalism, which you see online and in print – one that annoys me – is the regular old Q&A style ‘write-up’. If I’m going to be perfectly honest, to me a Q&A is not a write-up at all – it’s cheating. Anybody who’s ever written anything for me knows how much I dislike them.

Of course, such a format does have its place; at the same time, however, they aren’t as interesting to read, and they don’t force the writer to think or to utilise all the information he or she gained during their research stage.

One of the benefits of writing a full-length feature is that it gives you the opportunity to show your readers the personality of the interviewee. This is conveyed through how you represent their speech, the comments you make along the way, and any surrounding context you can put into a feature. For instance, you might interview someone who is rushing around doing pre-tour tasks while talking to you on their mobile phone, or who was driving somewhere interesting on their way home from a studio or something; you can’t use that information if you’re just writing Q&As. But in a feature, you can highlight where your interviewee was amused, or annoyed; you can explain where they were, you can use small talk and pre-interview conversation as one of the means of providing an insight into the person whom you are interviewing.

Musicians, of whatever level of fame, are just people. The best features give you an insight into that person, but doing it well requires you to write clearly, concisely, and engagingly. This is why writers generally – whether they are writers of fiction or non-fiction – tend to produce outstanding work: good writers make people their study.

But first, onto the method for getting your interview material into a useful format.

To transcribe or not to transcribe: that is the question

If you’re just starting out, it is a good idea to fully transcribe the recording of your interview, if you did it by phone or face-to-face. Once you’ve got a transcription, you pretty much have a plan – if your questions were structured well enough – to guide you in how to structure your feature article. Emailers are easier in the sense that they completely cut out the transcription step of the work.

One of the benefits of transcription is that you can start to think about the best placement for your material. You also have the added benefit of being able to print off the transcription (if you work best in hardcopy for planning), in order to work out which parts of the interview you want to use as direct quotes, which as paraphrase, and which as additional commentary or contextual information. Being able to scribble on your transcription to make notes for such a purpose can be highly beneficial.

If you’ve been doing this sort of thing for a while, it is natural that you will begin to work directly from the recordings: you’ll have the experience behind you that will give you the ability to know instinctively which material works as supporting info, and which parts to use as quotation.

But – in the beginning – always transcribe. It takes longer, but the skills it provides you with are invaluable.

Remember you are writing a story

All features are a story, in the same way that a piece of fiction is a story: it features a character (your interviewee), engaged in a particular subject (your purpose, generally an album or tour), and you need to write it in an engaging way, filled with expression and quotation (and dialogue, too, if you feel it fits).

To some extent, the structure of your interview questions will dictate the structure of your story; once you’ve analysed your transcript, you’ll know how the story will flow best, and which parts of it will be most engaging if they are presented directly.

The notes that you made during your research will provide you with good background information, which is hopefully verified or fleshed out by your interviewee. Engaging with the readers, generally fans of a band, is important: therefore if something is common knowledge amongst fans you can point out that fans will know X or Y, and you can go on to explain it for others who may not be au fait with that information.

The pyramid mode of writing: top down

There is a type of writing mode, known well to those who studied communication or technical writing at uni, known as the ‘pyramid mode’. This mode of writing dictates that a summary of the most important information should always appear at the beginning of a piece of writing, with the remainder flowing on from it.

In some ways, it is well to remember this when writing feature articles. However, if you write for a publication or blog online, then generally this is dictated to you anyway, through the need for a title and a teaser, and then the body of the article afterwards.

In print, such a structure is not defined by others on your behalf. If you find yourself writing for print, it is well worth keeping in mind that a strong feature will generally include some type of ‘summary’ at the top. But always be careful when you write them. It is one thing to write an abstract of an article, and something entirely different to write an engaging introduction that summarises the who, what, where, and why of what you’re writing.

When you find yourself in this position, always go for the engaging introduction, rather than a bland summary or abstract of an article. Why? In the first instance, you want to draw your readers in rather than put them off; in the second instance, it’s easier to write than a clinical or abstruse manifestation of what you’ve otherwise done; in the third instance, writing an engaging introduction can be done at the start rather than at the end of what you write, provided, of course, that you revisit it when you finish the feature to make sure that it is a true reflection of what you’ve written.

Important things to remember

1. Paraphrase to create prose

The material that you have from your interviewee, which you are not using as direct quotes, is not wasted material. This is where your richest material will, in fact, come from: you can paraphrase it, change it around, and use the information you have gained from the interview as part of what you are writing. It is perfectly legitimate to do this, provided you don’t get it wrong. If you have done sufficient research ahead of time, then what you gain ought to verify what you already know.

2. One sentence between quotes does not a feature article make

Given that writing full features is an often arduous and difficult task, it becomes tempting at times (especially at busy times) to plonk in a series of quotes with some scant intervening material. This is not a feature article: it is a patchwork of quotes, held together by the thinnest of connective tissues. If you don’t have time to write the feature properly, negotiate with whoever you are writing for, for an extra day. Going the extra distance to knit together a powerful article is better for your career, and for your self-respect as a journalist, than is turning in something that is on time but sub-standard.

3. Your article should have a natural sense of rhythm and flow

You can tell if your article has been poorly put together if its constitutent parts do not flow on from each other seamlessly, and if you are not drawn to read on from one part to the next. If on a re-read you find yourself drawn inextricably from the beginning to the end, however, you will know that you’ve done a good job. Keep an eye on the rhythm of the piece and on how it segues from one part to the next, and if it jolts or is gappy, do whatever you can to fix it – the end result is worth it.

4. Restructuring quotes is acceptable

Sometimes when you transcribe your recording, you will find that parts of some answers to questions are follow-on comments from material or issues previously discussed. In this situation, if you want to use it as a direct quote, you are better off shuffling the material around and putting the same material together – and this is perfectly acceptable, provided you quote accurately.

5. Be careful of making assumptions

If you find that your interviewee is tired, speaks as though he or she is homesick (especially on tour), or there is something else that piques your interest, be very wary of writing it as though it is fact. You are better off, if you find yourself in this situation, to leave any comments like that out of your write-up. Instead, file it in the back of your mind as something to ask as an additional question the next time you find yourself in a similar situation, and get the information directly: you might be wrong about what you’re hearing otherwise. If you do write an assumption as fact, it is feasible that you’ll find yourself the brunt of a very pissed off musician who requests amendments or, worse, that the entire article be pulled – thereby displeasing your editor and/or your publisher. It’s happened to me once, and once is enough. You learn very quickly from such mistakes.

6. When it’s finished, put your article aside and go back to it to proof and re-read later

One of the most important things you can do when you’re writing features (or writing anything destined for publication, let’s be honest) is to set the finished product aside once it’s done. If you can, let it lie fallow for a minimum of 24 hours, and don’t think about it at all during that time. It is incredibly valuable to go back to it with fresh eyes after you’ve had a break from it, because you will pick up errors in spelling and grammar, places where the flow is broken or inconsistent, and areas that you know can be rephrased or tightened up. This will especially be the case with your introduction.

7. When you think the article’s finished, read it aloud

Yes, you need to read it aloud, and yes you will feel like a right tosser reading your work aloud to yourself. However, this will give you the final insight into flow, and into grammatical and punctuation errors. If, when you read your work aloud, you stumble, have to re-read parts, or it otherwise doesn’t ‘feel right’, you know that those areas are the ones that you need to go back and fix.

Next time

The next instalment of this course will be the final one, and it will take you through common spelling errors and other issues that are the bane of all editors’ existence.

If you have any questions, this is your final chance to ask them!

Please contact me and let me know if you have questions, if you are unclear on anything, or if you have any comments. These will all go into a final Q&A instalment of this course, which will be final post in Music Journalism 101.

Past posts you might dig:

1. Music Journalism 101 i. Emailer interviews
2. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.
3. Music Journalism 101c. Ethnography at Gigs

In the previous instalment of this course, we went through the process of conducting interviews by telephone: how to prepare yourself, interview technique, dealing with Mr Business, and keeping your focus on your goal and on the conversation all at once. In comparison to telephone interviews, email-based ones (which we call emailers) are easier in some ways; but they can also be far more maddening.

Do emailer interview questions need to be different?

Yes they do. Sorry to disappoint you. Once you work out your style, you will be able to short-cut the process of writing questions, however. All you have do to, once you’ve mastered the ability to write good telephone interview questions, is tailor them for an emailer format.

While getting a good interview over the phone comes down to interview technique and – although I hate to say it – the quality of your voice (such as in how you project yourself, how relaxed you sound, and how prepared you are), you could strip the requirements for what makes a “good interview” by email down to two things, and two things only. These are:

1. good questions
2. having a person at the other end who is relaxed, has time to reply, and is reasonably good at expressing him- or herself in writing.

How to write good emailer interview questions

You already know how to write interview questions; but let’s revisit 101 G anyway, because the information and advice there is as applicable here as anywhere:

How to pull your notes into interview questions

Like everything, there is a simple method to writing interview questions. The key is getting the method right, and engaging in it religiously.

1. Sketch out everything that you want to know about or talk about
2. Write out all those points as single questions. Don’t double-up unless you have to – meaning, the second part asks for an expansion on the first part: it should never be a second question
3. Make sure all your questions are individual questions
4. Make sure all your questions are open – that is, they don’t require just “yes” or “no” responses
5. Make sure they flow nicely – that is, think of all the possible interactions between yourself and the interviewee arising from each question. Reorder your questions until the interview flows smoothly
6. Read the questions aloud to see if they flow nicely when spoken (need I mention that this is vital if you’re doing the interview by phone?)
7. Critically analyse how many questions you have, and cull where necessary
8. Re-order until you’re happy.

Keep your series of questions focused. Once you have got your questions together, as per the above list, go through it once more and keep yourself to ten questions or less. My best interviews, for instance, have been done on between five and eight questions, regardless of format. However, I do believe that keeping to a basic ten questions looks like only a few, keeps your interview focused on what is important, and enables you to engage in a write-up that isn’t overly long or arduous.

Ask yourself whether the questions could be answered without clarification. In a telephone interview situation, your interviewee has the luxury of being able to ask you what you mean if he or she doesn’t quite get it. This can prove essential for people from non-English speaking countries (and in metal, that’s a LOT of bands). If you are in doubt about anything, rewrite until you’re happy.

Something that has quickly become my own rule of thumb is adding contextual information for your question, when it goes out in an emailer, unless it’s bleedingly obvious what you mean and what you’re asking about. Don’t be afraid to tell the person at the other end that you read on some website about [this], and your question is [that]. If anything it proves how far you’ll go to be as original as possible, and it gives your bland little email some character and personality.

If you’re writing an emailer for a person whose first language is not English, keep your sentences short as hell. Don’t ramble on for two or three lines. Keep it short and sweet. Not only will this enable greater comprehension if the person’s English is poor, but if he or she has to resort to language translators, then the software will cope far more admirably if you don’t have a ton of phrases running into each other, separated only by commas.

Finally, double-check, triple-check, and check again until you’re happy. Remove any questions that could be answered too easily or stupidly (unless that’s what you’re after); avoid yes-no questions; and make sure that your language is pitched just right.

The difference between speech and writing

Most musicians are used to giving telephone interviews; it’s just the way it’s done, unless you happen to get lucky and get in on the ground, face-to-face. Sure, that’s obvious, you might think. What might not be obvious is that most people are quite comfortable talking to somebody else. And yet, a lot of people freeze when they have to write anything.

Why this is the case is anybody’s guess, but as a writer, editor and publisher myself, my firm belief is that it comes down to a person’s childhood. At school, we’re all told what’s wrong with what and how we write, and are rarely congratulated for it. Only suck-ups get the congratulations. We hear in the media all the time about how poor our literacy is, whether we’re children or adults. It has given nearly everybody a complex.

So with this in mind, you have to remember that if your interviewee is not particularly comfortable in writing, you should be prepared for a returned interview that might not meet your expectations.

Other factors to consider about emailers

There are a few other factors about emailers that you’ll want to consider.

• If you get the opportunity to start right at the beginning with your music journalism, go for phoners first. This will help you test-run your questions and technique in person. You can tell an awful lot about how prepared you really are by the demeanour of the person on the other end of the line. It’s more nerve-wracking (my first ever interview, phoner, was with Rob Halford for instance), but it’s better for your development in the long-run.
• Think about the format of your email, and never assume everybody runs a Mac or that everybody runs Windows. If you’re sending an attachment, make sure it’s a Rich Text File (*.rtf) because RTFs are multi-platform and run without any trouble. Usually.
• It is tempting for some people to write little notes in an email, sucking up to a band, gushing about them or to them, or otherwise getting into fanboy or groupie territory. For the love of god DON’T do this. It is good to include a note at the beginning thanking the interviewee for their time, and noting that you know how much longer emailers take than phone interviews. That’s it. Gush is just disgusting (sorry to be so blunt).
• You don’t have the luxury of following the conversation, so your questions need to be as full and insightful (and open-ended) as possible, and they need to flow one into another easily and logically
• You might not get the interview back for a long time, especially if your questions are convoluted, despite repeat tries
• The person at the other end could be tired, busy, not giving a shit, or even pissed off that he or she has to do it in writing, and this might affect what he or she writes, or their attitude in general
• You might well get monosyllabic responses, to even the most open-ended questions, and not be able to use any of it (yes, that’s happened to me)
• Your interviewee, despite all your best efforts, may totally misunderstand what you mean, and answer a question you haven’t asked (when this happens, it’s not usually something you wanted or needed to know)

Next time

You can look forward to some information, how-tos and advice on actually pulling your interview together. The next instalment will be far less journalism and all about the finesse of writing a good piece. Stay tuned!

In the meantime, feel free to drop comments below, as always.

Past posts you might dig:

1. Music Journalism 101 g. Preparing for interviews
2. On interviews and credibility 1: metal music journalism
3. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.

The previous instalment of this course took you through the, sometimes arduous, preparation required for conducting interviews. It discussed dealing with nerves, what sorts of things you need to research and why, and how to go about thinking through your proposed questions. This instalment talks about actually conducting the interview itself: how to ask questions, how to deal with talkative interviewees (and the converse, the monosyllabic), and how to focus on both the interview and the conversation without falling to pieces.

This post will focus exclusively on telephone interviews, because the majority of interviews one does are conducted over the phone. The next instalment will be a shorter one, and that one will talk about email interviews (known as ‘emailers’), and how they differ in practise to a ‘phoner’.

What to do immediately prior to the interview

First things first: make absolutely sure that you know what time the interview is scheduled to take place, and what your time allocation is. In my case, all of my interview times come through as Australian Eastern time (standard or daylight time); not being in that timezone, I have to make sure that I know that I have the right time. Knowing how long you’ve got will help you stay on time so you don’t put anybody else out.

The second thing you need to make absolutely sure of is whether the band is calling you, or whether you are calling them. If the latter, ensure that you have any relevant phone card details provided by the label, agent, distro, or whatever agency is scheduling the interviews, and make sure that the phone number is correct. If the band is calling you, make sure that you are in the right place, with the right phone. Trust me, there’s nothing worse than being prepared for a recorded interview and having poor facilities, and then facing the prospect of typing the transcript as you go.

To this end, if you are doing this from home, make sure that nobody else is on the phone when you need to use it, or when a band needs to call you. It’s a simple thing to word people up ahead of time: so simple that it’s something easily overlooked.

The third thing you need to do is make sure that your recording facilities function properly, and that you have your questions at the ready, and the right version of those questions. Also try to make sure that the room you’re in is quiet enough for you to get a good recording; having to work from a poor recording will make your write-up process much more work than it needs to be.

And finally, grab yourself a glass of water or a cup of coffee. If you’re nervous, coffee’s probably not a good idea – but if it’s early in the morning, as some interviews inevitably are, it can be no end of help in waking up.

Kicking the interview off

So – you’re all set up. Now what? The phone rings, or is ringing, and your heart is thumping like mad. Here’s a tip for when you answer (or the band answers at the other end): keep an ear on your own voice. It is a truism that using your ‘best voice’ at all times makes nearly everything better. To this end, ensure that you are speaking clearly, slowly and naturally. If you are smiling, so much the better! You might feel like a right tosser, but the smile does come through in your voice. Keep the pace relaxed and be in it to enjoy yourself.

Engaging in small talk at the beginning of an interview is not a bad thing at all, unless it starts to eat into your interview time. Small talk can be a fabulous way of getting the measure of your interviewee: some are all business-business-business; some have just woken up; some are rushing around organising pre-tour mayhem; some have been pulled out of the studio. You’re talking to people at the other end who have busy lives, and sometimes it can intrude into the interview situation. Being able to have a bit of a chat about nothing in particular will help you to scope what the environment is like at the other end.

To give context to this, one interview I did started out with the band member at the other end of the phone (in Sweden, I think) sounding sleepy. He was making coffee, and started asking what the weather was like. He told me that he “just needed to talk shit for a while” so that he could wake up and get into the business side of things.

Getting into the ‘human side’ of your interviewee is vital: but I’ll get to that later.

Asking questions, and letting your interviewee talk

If you have engaged in small talk, however briefly, with the person at the other end, you will find yourself (hopefully) naturally segueing into your first question. If you struggle, a good thing to do is to thank them for their time before you start and tell them roughly how many questions you’ve got. If nothing else, this gives your interviewee some context for the interview that’s about to take place, and it also gives them a time framework.

If you haven’t really spoken on the phone down an international line before, it is well to remember that there is often a delay between what you say and when your interviewee hears it, and vice versa. If your interviewee is on a mobile phone, then that delay can be a lot longer. Some countries are worse than others, too: Australia to Britain can be immediate; Australia to Sweden or Finland can have a palpable two or three second delay; Australia to the US or Canada can swing either way.

The lesson here is: don’t be so eager to get the interview done that you’re tripping over what your interviewee is trying to say. I could tell you that it’s unprofessional, but the reality of it is that it’s just downright uncomfortable. If it happens throughout an interview, then there’s a good chance you’ll wish a big black hole would just open up and swallow you whole.

It is important to let your interviewee talk. If you’ve done your research right, and have crafted some nice questions, then there is a very good chance that the person at the other end will have to think about what to say before saying it. An interviewee who has to think is engaging fully in what you’re asking, and it’s a sign of a good question. If your questions are getting answers that sound suspiciously like they were prepared ahead of time, your warning bells should start ringing! It means you will have to change your style on the fly.

Dealing with Mr Business & the recalcitrant interviewee

Yes, they exist: band members for whom interviews are work, and therefore should be conducted in the most militaristic, business-like way possible. Such a band member is often characterised by answers to most questions prepared ahead of time (and delivered a million times in the same way); an unwillingness to engage in small talk; a brisk voice; and a rapid-fire answer delivery.

Recalcitrant interviewees may not come from the same place, but they are incredibly difficult to get talking. The recalcitrant interviewee will prefer to answer your questions with monosyllabic answers (even open-ended questions will have a brief response); they may come across as being annoyed or irritated; they will have a low tolerance for small talk; they may sound tired, or jaded, or like they’d rather just be elsewhere.

So what do you do in this situation? The answer is so simple, it’s beyond belief: try to get them to laugh (without telling a joke or otherwise going beyond your immediate boundaries). It might simply be a matter of commenting on something they’ve said, which then makes it seem like the interviewee has a sense of humour.

Getting a laugh out of a business-like or recalcitrant interviewee is like working magic: it turns them back into people. All of a sudden their approach becomes warmer and more relaxed, and the ‘interview’ turns into a conversation.

Interviews as conversations and particular technique

The previous instalment of this course discussed interviews as conversations: that the best interviews are two-way conversations that you can remember fondly. This is so true it’s worth remembering.

And yes, with a lot of things like this, there is a technique to it. On the one hand you need to ask the questions you want answers to; on the other hand, you want to be able to follow the conversation. How do you do this?

Easy: treat it like a conversation. Your questions are markers that segment the conversation, and between those you are able to follow the threads of what comes up as it comes up, unless you are constrained by time limits. Be wary, however, of simply asking more questions. As with any good conversational technique, you need to show that you’re listening: this means providing comments about what they said, adding a bit of information of your own and following up the conversational hook, and leaving it to the interviewee to run with it. What you find when you move from questions to comments is a deeper level of engagement, and the interviewee will often be more forthcoming with more interesting information. It’s not a ‘trick’: it is a way of enabling both parties to forget that this is a structured, formal discussion, and that it’s more like one between friends.

What you find, when you engage in a discussion like this, is that it is sad to have to whiz through the remainder of your questions, and it is terrible to have to end a conversation. Rich Ward is one of my favourite interviewees: I think our last chat – at about an hour and a half – was the longest phone interview I’ve ever had. It was also the most fun, and one of the saddest to have to end.

Bringing band members to the level of the ‘human’ is vital if you are going to forge good connections, establish good rapport, and bring your interview out of the formal and into the conversational. However, on some occasions it can also work against you.

Dealing with the talkative interviewee

Sometimes you find yourself in the situation where the interviewee – because you’ve let them talk – goes on, and on, and on, and on. I sometimes find myself so amused that I let them go on, just to see if they’ll stop; often they don’t. Usually, for an interviewee like this the only way to stop the flow is to intervene.

Intervening is vital if you don’t have the leisure of time, and you are constrained by other journalists who are slotted into the schedule behind you. If you’re not off the phone on time, it means you are putting somebody else out, and that’s just bad grace.

Really, there’s not a particularly graceful way of dealing with an over-talkative interviewee, except for shaving your questions down as you go, so that there is something specific he or she has to answer. Then, if you have to interrupt, do it by way of commenting on what they said, and segueing nicely into your next question at the same time. If your questions have been structured well, then this will not be particularly difficult for you to do. It’s really just awkward and practise makes perfect – as with everything.

Keeping your mind in two places at once

Following the flow of a conversation, and following your interview list isn’t quite so difficult as it seems or sounds. There are some things that can help you, though:

1. If you’re recording directly onto your computer, turn everything else but your recording software off. Don’t look at Facebook while you’re interviewing someone; don’t check your emails; don’t look at who’s just sent you a tweet. Focus on what you’re doing right now: it’s so much easier.
2. Print out your questions list and put a line through each question as it’s been answered. This can help you enormously if your interviewee is talkative, and answering questions ahead of time.
3. Keep a scrap of paper next to you and jot down anything that occurs to you to ask, as the conversation goes on. Sometimes it happens that something an interviewee says is so enormously interesting that you think, ‘I must ask about that’ – and then you forget what it was. Writing a note or two down will help you to remember. This can also help you follow the flow of conversation even better.
4. Don’t think about your questions to the exclusion of the interview. It’s really awkward: I’ve done it. You end up facing a gap where the interviewee has clearly just asked you something that you have totally missed and need to find a good way around as an excuse.
5. Stay focused on the conversation, to the exclusion of your notes if necessary. It’s the conversation that matters.

What to look forward to next time…

In the next instalment, I’ll take you through writing emailer questions, what to expect with emailers, and how they differ to phoners. It’ll be short but sweet. Until then, if you have comments or questions, drop them here and I’ll make sure to work the content into the course!

Past posts you might dig:

1. On interviews and credibility 1: metal music journalism
2. Music Journalism 101 g. Preparing for interviews
3. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.

It is no secret that interviewing bands is a nerve-wracking affair. Most interviews you read are conducted by highly experienced music journalists, and it seems that they set the bar pretty high. Fear not – even if you need to meet an extraordinarily high standard, there is a method that can set you going in the right direction.

About nerves

There are a few things that cause you to feel nervous about talking to bands in an interview situation In my experience, these nerves come from a few common places. These are:

1. Awe. If you’re a fan of a band or musician, then this is going to be your biggest thing. My most nerve-wracking interview was the first time I talked to Rob Halford. But that was equal parts awe, and equal parts of the second – standards. Dealing with awe-inspired nerves is perhaps the most difficult; all you can do is remind yourself that these people have been doing their thing for a really long time, that they are still people, and that manners and good preparation goes a very long way with other professionals. Think of yourselves as colleagues – because that’s how it often pans out.
2. Standards – set by yourself or by others. If you are interviewing a band or musician that’s been around for a long time, then you’re going to be nervous about meeting standards. In all likelihood, you are never going to be able to ask a question they have never been asked before – but you should strive to be as original as possible at all times, without getting weird, nasty, or just plain stupid. See also point (1) about awe.
3. Lack of knowledge. You don’t need to be a total band geek to conduct an excellent interview; in fact, sometimes it can help if you’re not. But if you don’t have a great deal of knowledge, which can come as much from not knowing a band from a bar of soap, as not having heard enough of their back-catalogue, then it can make you nervous as hell. Happily, there is a way around it: good research. See the next section for details.
4. A recalcitrant interviewee (in-interview). This comes down to interview technique, and a certain mindfulness – this will be addressed in the next instalment of the course.

Dealing with nerves can be hard. But at the same time, it is something that you can use to your advantage. If you are nervous, it’s a signal to you that you need to take action of some kind, and becoming engaged in the interview process is one of the best ways of dealing with that nervousness. However, the nerves you experience immediately prior to an interview – that is, in the five minutes before a phone call takes place – can really only be dealt with by being properly set up, having checked that everything works, and breathing deeply.

Always remember that interviews, at their best, are good conversations. That is really what you should be aiming for: a good, engaging, two-way conversation that you can remember fondly.

What makes a good interview great?

Is it the interview method, or the questions themselves? Well, these are both important – but what makes a good interview great is the amount of research you put into it beforehand.

There are some very basic, bog-standard things you can do when you are preparing to interview a band. Broken down into steps, these are:

1. Determine whether the interview is regarding a new release, or a tour, or both.
   1. if it’s about a release – make sure you get a copy, or at least one rough-cut – to listen to, to get a sense of the release
   2. if it’s about a tour – you need to find all of the details about that tour, and information/reviews on the previous tour, if possible
2. Read as much about the history of the band as possible. Given the pervasive nature of the internet, this is so much easier now than it was ten years ago. Find the official biography, the label’s biography (if you have access to it), fans’ details of the band, and so on. The bio will give you a way of attacking the interview. Some artists, like Bumblefoot, have a really personal bio; others have very little at all.
3. Read as many news items of the band as possible, from a diverse range of places. What you are looking for is a key piece of information that is unusual, striking, or odd. These things are great conversation topics.
4. Find the band’s discography, and get familiar with it. Any live albums that stand out? Any split releases that stand out? Any artwork that is striking? What did their early material sound like compared to the new (if you have access to it)? Doing this will likely cause small items to stand out on their own, as being worthwhile bringing up in conversation.
5. Read reviews of all releases, to get a sense of how the band has progressed, what the major issues have been for fans and media in the past, and what expectations are like for the new release. This should give you some material to consider asking.
6. Get as many additional details on a release as possible: guest appearances, who the producer was, where it was recorded, where it was mixed, who did the artwork, who the engineer was, what the early promo has been like. This enables you to find out what the team that the band worked with was like. How was the art created and how much input did they have, and so on.
7. Get as many details on a band’s tour cycle as possible: some bands tour not much, others tour for three years at once. It’s rich material for finding out how they cope, and how much effort they put in for their fans. Some bands, for example, have a really good family that helps them through; others rely on alcohol to blast their way through a tour; still others have small things – like an interest in architecture – that keep them interested when they’re on the road continually.
8. Read other people’s interviews with the person or band you will be speaking with. This is perhaps the most vital thing you can do, because it gives you a sense of what the person or band is like to talk to (talkative or otherwise) and how they respond to certain questions; it gives you a sense of personality, so you can prepare yourself mentally; and it gives you a really good idea of the types of questions that other people are asking, what to avoid, what might be good to know more about, and so on. This can really help you with your interview framework.

Take care over your interview questions

It is important to take care over your interview questions, because your questions will frame your interview. In the first instance you want to make sure you cover the ground you need to; in the second, you want to eliminate closed questions; and in the third instance, you want to ensure that the questions flow well.

While you can bang up a set of standardised interview questions upon which to base all other interviews, I don’t recommend it. It can give you a good framework, sure, but at the same time, all of your interviews end up sounding the same, coming from the same perspective. It also means that you run the risk of being stereotyped – something which I suggest is good to avoid. Having a new set of questions for every band also helps you to remain memorable: never forget that bands are friends with other bands, and do actually talk to each other.

If you can get to the point where major musicians with a big history tell you that your interview was awesome – three months after said interview took place – then you’ve hit your mark. No, it’s not impossible: this happened to me in early 2009, and you could’ve knocked me over with a feather. Take from this a good lesson: you’re far better off being humble and professional, than caring about syndicated writings. If you get a reputation as an excellent journalist among the bands first, then the industry will hear about you from those bands (which is very credible), meaning you’re more likely to go the distance.

How to pull your notes into interview questions

Like everything, there is a simple method to writing interview questions. The key is getting the method right, and engaging in it religiously.

1. Sketch out everything that you want to know about or talk about
2. Write out all those points as single questions. Don’t double-up unless you have to – meaning, the second part asks for an expansion on the first part: it should never be a second question
3. Make sure all your questions are individual questions
4. Make sure all your questions are open – that is, they don’t require just “yes” or “no” responses
5. Make sure they flow nicely – that is, think of all the possible interactions between yourself and the interviewee arising from each question. Reorder your questions until the interview flows smoothly
6. Read the questions aloud to see if they flow nicely when spoken (need I mention that this is vital if you’re doing the interview by phone?)
7. Critically analyse how many questions you have, and cull where necessary
8. Re-order until you’re happy.

If you end up with more than thirteen interview questions, refine them. Most interviews run for an absolute maximum of twenty allowed minutes (especially by phone), so you need to make sure you can cover what you need to in the allowable time frame. If you have too many questions, and haven’t considered possible diversions, then you end up in a situation where you either ignore conversational threads (which are often very interesting) or you follow them and don’t get the information you want. This is why having a small, precise list of questions, which allow for expansion or diversion, is important.

The reverse is also true, though. If you have a recalcitrant interviewee – one who is not particularly forthcoming – then you may need to think on the fly to get some engagement happening if your questions are too limited.

Set, and strive to meet, high standards. Always.

As always, if you approach all parts of your journalism work with professionalism, those with whom you interact will respect it. While you might be nervous about meeting the high standards of other journalists in the field, you can literally only ever strive to meet the highest standards possible. If you make this something you engage in all the time, then you will naturally float to the top of the pile.

Some people feel that there is a culture of elitism in the music industry – and especially in metal – which is justified. It doesn’t mean that anybody who works in the field as a journalist should feel overwhelmed by it, or put upon because of it. Instead, it’s a challenge for you to meet a very high standard; that challenge is a worthy one, and one that calls for all of your knowledge of the art, and all of your professional flexibility.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re a student, a volunteer, a staff writer, or a freelancer: you must always strive to meet high standards. A solid method, a good framework, and a clear knowledge of what you’re doing and why, will go a long way. You can always skip steps in each part of the way, but if you do, you need to remember that you are also eroding the foundations that support your work.

Coming up in 101 H: Conducting the music interview

The next instalment of this course will cover the ‘in process’ interview: asking questions, dealing with talkative and/or recalcitrant interviewees, following conversational threads, and so on. Stay tuned!

Past posts you might dig:

1. On interviews and credibility 1: metal music journalism
2. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.
3. Music Journalism 101c. Ethnography at Gigs

The previous chapter of this course will hopefully have made you excited about learning the nitty-gritties of writing your release review, after having honed your critical ear. This chapter will show you some of the traps to watch out for – including why imitation can be flattering to others, but why it’s not necessarily a good thing. It will also take you through form and structure, key elements that must be included, and how to turn your critical notes into insightful commentary.

 As mentioned several times throughout this course, and demonstrated with various references, the art of criticism is applicable across nearly any art form. Your style will change according to what you are reviewing, as will some key elements, but the basics and tenets of good, effective criticism are almost infinitely flexible.

Find your point and stick to it (or, succinct writing is essential)

Regarding music journalism, it is rare that you are given the luxury of being verbose. Most publications allow a maximum of 500 words per review; meaning, therefore, that all of your critical notes, including your assessment of an album’s production (top- and bottom-end, production values, and where elements are placed in the mix), the best elements, the worst elements, the experience of particular tracks, lyrical themes, artwork, and so on, have to be squished into a couple of paragraphs. 

Writing succinctly is an art in and of itself. One of the world’s masters of criticism, expat-Australian Clive James, tied the notion up very neatly in a review of Robert Hughes’s The Fatal Shore (1988) when he stated that good journalism is:

 ’… seeing the point and keeping to it’.

 The easiest way, in my experience, of being able to stick to your point is seeing what that point is in the first place: it gives you a notional framework within which everything else you write fits, and helps you to structure your review in such a way that you are able to prove that your point is valid.

 To define what your point is, ask yourself what you think of the album. Don’t refer to your notes, just recall the experience of it and think of three or four words that sum it up. You might find that a release demonstrates a band’s evolution in a particular direction, or a growing maturity in a genre. You might find that it made you want to saw your leg off with a blunt saw rather than listen to it a second time, or perhaps even to listen to the second half. Whatever it is, this is the whole point of your review: you must somehow pull your notes together to support this contention.

Understand what is required of you

Now that you know what you are going to write about, you must get a handle on what the publication requires of you. Almost every publication of any quality has a dedicated style guide that ensures every article within it has a certain titular style, a certain formatting style, and – if it’s online – that certain keyword fields are completed.

 If you are provided with a style guide and you don’t use it, you will irritate your editor very quickly – and you will find yourself shuffled down the list of priority writers. Those who follow instructions easily, will naturally be less work for those who edit and/or moderate it. Take heed: this might not seem important, but it is vital if you seek longevity in the industry.

 Once you’ve got a handle on the necessary styles, which will guide the physical elements of what you write, and you know roughly the shape into which you must mold your review, it’s time to put pen to paper – or, rather, fingers to the keys.

Form and structure are important

Writing a release review is not rocket science: fanboys do it, groupies do it, bored people do it for something to do, and most music journalists (and metal journos in particular) are not writers in the first instance. If you are a writer in the first instance, then you will have a far more mature style and a greater grasp on language and the micro elements of writing (like punctuation). You will also be less likely to simply imitate somebody else’s style – more on that later. 

Put simply, a good review will:

• provide a summary at the start that gives a basic overview demonstrating the point to which you are going to stick
• discuss the overall experience of the album, weaving in the production values, any startling or interesting facts about it (such as guest appearances, or its origins or history), giving the reader a sense of the album as a whole
• highlight stand-out tracks, or tracks on an album that demonstrate your point, or which are worthy of mentioning due to stylistic variation, particular skills that the band display, demonstration of changes in style from one album to another, or other interesting or striking elements. These will come out of your critical notes: for example, you might review a black metal album with a remixed electronic version as a bonus track, and that would be worth mentioning; similarly, a great old-school thrash album that features one track full of breakdowns and metalcore vocal styles would be odd for other reasons, and is similarly worthy of particular attention
• sum up the album in a final paragraph, with an assessment of it in terms of listener experience, band history, genre, and any other points that you may have missed; you may also include here a recommendation to the reader as to whether or not it is spending up to $35 on
• include a final line with label, release date or purchase details if it is required by your publication.

Appreciate your own style

Some publications out there – like Terrorizer, Metal Hammer and others – have writers who display styles that are instantly recognisable. Some reviewers have a style that I personally don’t like: reviews are filled with analogies, and strings of adjectives and other descriptors that obfuscate the review. Reading one or two is good fun; reading more than that gets old very quickly. Clarity and simplicity are far more effective from the reader’s point of view in the long-run.  

Whether or not I do or do not like a particular style is of no regard. However, what is an absolute sin is trying to imitate a style like that without really understanding how to do it. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery – except for writers. Writers who shamelessly imitate another style lay themselves open to ridicule, especially if that style is identifiable. It can also slow the development of your own style, much to your detriment.

 Far better is to go with who you are and what you do: with a ‘take no prisoners’ and ‘fuck ‘em all’ attitude. Eventually, that is, if you don’t start out your journalistic life with a writing style you’d be happy to call your own, you will develop one. That style is defined by certain phrases that you favour, the types of analogies you use, your own peculiar sense of humour (or lack thereof), your level of pedantry, how informed you are, how you wield your punctuation, and more besides.

 Writing is an art form that people take seriously, because it morphs the language you use every day into a more formal style. Therefore, while you may not be confident about your style initially, you can at least appreciate that you have the balls to put pen to paper in your own way; confidence follows with practise.

Common pitfalls

Writing a review seems easy, doesn’t it? That’s because, if we’re honest with our readers, it is. However, there are several pitfalls it is worth being aware of, in order to avoid them.

 Good things to avoid are:

• Filling your review with strings of adjectives and analogies: to my eyes, a writer who goes the long way about describing something does not have a clear idea of what he or she wanted to say in the first place. Better to be clear: one simple, effective analogy will beat a line of convoluted descriptors or vague analogies any day.
• Being too geeky and filling your review with information that is irrelevant to the release under scrutiny. It can be a fine line sometimes, especially with a band that has been around for a long time, because it can be tempting to display one’s knowledge about a discography, or how changes in band members have affected the sound of a band. Four words for you: it is not necessary. Save that sort of thing for interview write-ups.
• Describing every single track in detail, for the simple reason that unless there is a very good reason (such as a concept album for which you cannot get a full sense of it without talking about how the tracks fit together to complete the concept), it is boring to read.
• Talking about one track as though it is indicative of the entire album, without saying whether it is or not. Your reader will start to wonder whether you only listened to one track in order to get out of your review cheaply.
• Writing statements of which you are not one hundred per cent certain. If you are even slightly in doubt about something, make sure you check it – whether it’s the name of an engineer, the sound of a particular song that you can’t quite recall, or whereabouts the album was recorded. Similarly, if you are stating that an album is a milestone (like, the tenth or fifteenth full-length), make sure you’re right. Nothing destroys your credibility quicker than inaccuracy.
• Omitting an assessment of the production values of an album. It might be a fabulous cock-rock release, but if the production values are Dark Throne-esque, and you don’t mention it (and if people go out and buy the release on your recommendation) then you’ll find yourself creating more enemies than fans.
• Failing to proofread or spellcheck your review: the basics of good writing are essential. Make sure you proofread what you write – better yet, read it aloud to see if really does make sense – and check your spelling. Do that and the people in the office will really appreciate your work.

Check your review against your notes: the benefit of a good edit

Before you finish and submit your review, it’s often a good idea to check your review against your notes, and to run it past someone that you trust, for feedback purposes. Ask yourself whether you get a sense of the release, and the listening experience of the release, from what you’ve written. Are any key points left out? Would you consider your review to be insightful? Have you made too much of some elements and not enough of others?

 It’s always a good idea to let your writing sit for a day or so before you go back to it for this purpose. It helps to give you some distance from your work, so you read it more objectively. And never be afraid to totally rewrite your work if you’re not happy with it. A good self-edit can often make the difference between a good review and an outstanding one: changing a word here and there will not have the same power as completely recasting a paragraph.

 By reading your work to someone else – especially if that someone else has heard the release – can also be very beneficial. That person may suggest something you’ve left out, or may query a phrase that they don’t understand. A second perspective can be invaluable.

Coming up in 101 G.

Now you’ve covered event reviews and release reviews, what’s left? Oh yeah! Interviews : the most fun – and most stressful – job of the lot. The next chapter will talk very quickly about researching and writing interview questions, conducting an interview, and the basic tenets of a good write-up. Stay tuned!

Past posts you might dig:

1. 101 E. Reviewing a new release: stage one
2. Music Journalism 101d. Reviewing a band’s performance
3. Release review: Paindivision – One Path (Riot Entertainment)

If you’ve been through the previous three entries, you’ll now have a basic understanding of ethnography and where it came from, and some of the basic principles. You will also – hopefully – have put your principles into practice in all sorts of locations, from your mate’s house to shows. You will also have an understanding of how to try and recreate the atmosphere of a show for the people who will be your readers.

All of the above is essential, but as a music journalist you will not get very far if you do not have a basic understanding of how to review a band’s performance. This instalment of the course will help you get closer to that goal. Remember always that if you are not a writer first and a fan second, and that if you do not practice your skills, then reading through this course – no matter how badly you might want to work in the field – is going to be of relatively little use for you. A good journalist is not a groupie or fanboy: it is a person for whom recreating and evaluating performances in writing is at the top of the tree.

Journalists need professional distance

It is well to remember that you are in the role of critic as a music journalist. The word ‘critic’, so this dodgy article at Wikipedia tells us, comes from the Greek ‘kritikos’, meaning ‘able to discern’. Furthermore, the article states:

which in turn derives from the word κριτής (krités), meaning a person who offers reasoned judgment or analysis, value judgment, interpretation, or observation^[2]. The term can be used to describe an adherent of a position disagreeing with or opposing the object of criticism.

Modern critics include professionals or amateurs who regularly judge or interpret performances or other works (such as those of artists, scientists,musicians, or actors), and typically publish their observations, often in periodicals. Critics are numerous in certain fields, including art, music, film, theatre or drama, restaurant, and scientific publication critics.

All of this tells you that you need to approach your evaluation of a band’s performance with a certain professional distance. You have to analyse, judge, interpret a performance through a range of criteria. These critera I will get to presently.

What you come up against when you review metal bands, particularly, are the Metal Geeks: fans who know everything about everything, or at least like to think they do. If you are not a Metal Geek yourself, you need not worry if you are honest in your review and can evaluate a performance relatively dispassionately. The best metal journos are indeed metal geeks; but like anything in life, if you stick with what you do, you will pick up enough knowledge to begin to qualify as a minor rank Geek yourself.

Music criticism versus other types of criticism

Relatistically, evaluating the performance of a band is not starkly different to evaluating or reviewing any other type of performance art: film, theatre, street performance or performance art. There are different types of things you have to take under consideration, true; but the essence of the work is very similar across the board.

In theatre, dance, or performance criticism you would need to consider what the scene or dance looks like, who wrote the play (or choreographed the dance) and a bit of its history, how the mood was set and to what effect, who each of the major players are and what their individual performances were like – and how they related to the whole – and so on (for a good, short example, see this review of The Nutcracker at Covent Garden, from the UK’s The Times).

In film, too, you need to evaluate the story, how it presented on screen, what the sound, lighting, cast were like, who various people were in the crew and what role the played; and you need to relate it all to the whole piece.

I believe that, in criticism, the adage “more than the sum of its parts” is very apt. You can analyse, interpret, judge, and critique each part of a performance; but if you do not relate those parts to the whole then you are going to lose a certain element of what you set out to achieve in the beginning.

What to look for

The elements of performance that you need to take into consideration are as follows:

• the energy and performance of each individual band member 
  did their energy stay at its peak for the entire set? How did he/she perform? What his/her performance unmarred by errors – e.g. were sweep arpeggios even and nicely placed, or double-kicks well executed? If there were errors, how did the band member deal with that? Take it in his/her stride or get progressively pissy? What does that tell you about band dynamics?
   
• the energy and performance of the band as a whole
  when you piece together the individual members’ performances in your mind, does your evaluation of the band as a whole follow along naturally? If it doesn’t, then there is something amiss that you need to look for because it is hurting the band‘s performance – and you need to be able to explain what that something is. What are the band dynamics like? Do they “play well together”? What is the collective vibe like, and what does it tell you about the band?
   
• how the band members (individually and as a band) interact with the audience
  this is always a criterion that is way up there in judging check-lists for battles of the bands and competitions, and as a youngster I could never understand why; doing this work, I do. It is because of the fact that when a band can effortlessly interact with a crowd – get them to chant, to cheer, to stick their horns in the air – and when a band is effortlessly relating to a crowd to the point where the individual audience members have almost forgotten everyone else in the venue – that is when you know that the band has something special. Highly experienced bands often don’t even have to try, but younger bands do, and done badly it is very, very painful to watch. Of course, if a band does not interact at all, then the audience loses interest incredibly quickly: so always watch the crowd’s reaction.
   
• what the band sounds like
  can you hear the guitars? the bass? the drums? the vocalist? the keyboards (if any)? Is there a good balance? If not, is it the venue’s fault, the sound engineer’s fault, or the band’s fault? And if you do pick one to blame, can you back up your claim with solid reasoning (such as, this venue always sounds like crap regardless of the sound dude, and it is both common knowledge and often a subject of discussion)? Feel free to relate this type of analysis to your analysis of the venue’s sound and what the environment is like: they are interrelated, after all.
   
• what the band looks like
  yes, we all know it is not a beauty pageant. But have you ever paid good money to see a band you’ve always wanted to see, and the band did everything right, but they all looked like they’d rather be at home playing with their Wii? It totally ruins the atmosphere and your own (and others’) enjoyment of the show. Some bands can look like shit, because they’re near the end of a tour for example, but manage to overcome that while on stage. You need to be able to give your readers a bit of a sense of what it was like being in the audience, so what the band looked like can be important. It can also be particularly important if you’re reviewing specific genres. If any costuming (e.g. corpse paint or spikes) looks farcical, feminine, or just plain stupid, it’s your job to say so.
   
• evaluate the set list
  if you are critiquing the performance of a major band (in the same league as, say Napalm Death, Cannibal Corpse, Marduk, etc) – and even if you’re not, but it’s of more importance if you are – then you need to evaluate the set list. What did they play? Did they play it well? How long was the set? Were there any encores (why not, if not)? Remember that if you are seeing a band on their first visit to somewhere (like I did when reviewing the Grave show here late last year) then you are going to want to hear a great spread from a band’s discography. If it’s a tour to promote a particular album, then you are going to want to hear that album. This is where some research ahead of time, or good Geeky knowledge, will stand you in good stead for the writing of your review. Also, remember to watch for the crowds’ reaction to the set list, because if you are not a fan yourself then you will miss important indicators if you don’t keep an eye out.
• other things to look for: responses to hecklers, general mood, etc.
  when you’re reviewing a band that has a great sense of humour, they will tell good (or crap) jokes; they will respond to hecklers in the crowd, especially if the hecklers mean well (as they often do); they will look like they’re enjoying themselves; and the vibe will generally be a warm one. If you encounter a humourless or moody band, they won’t respond to hecklers; they will not engage in much “conversation”, let alone jokes; and the vibe will be different again. Each of these is important. Keep a running commentary, if you’re quick enough, of what the band members say to the audience, what jokes they tell, and so on: it all helps you recreate the atmosphere and provide a good sense of the show afterwards. Trust me, you won’t remember it accurately if you don’t!

Tying all of the elements together

Once you are back at your desk and writing up your review, including each of these elements should come naturally to you: especially if you have taken good notes and have a good sense of what to look out for before you go to the show. If you are a writer first and a journalist second, then it will be even easier for you.

If neither of these things describe you, then you need to write out the performance from beginning to end. What was your first impression of the band when they came out on stage? What was your very first impression of what they sounded like, how they related to each other and to the audience? Did they play as well/fast/heavy as you thought (or hoped) that they would?

The best advice I can give you at this point, though, is to trust your gut instinct and be honest. Write your own opinion into the review and make sure that the reader can’t take it as a generic statement.

Not sure? Got questions about anything?

If you are still unsure, or you have a question about any of the criteria in this list, please leave a comment below. Or, given that we’re into the fourth section of the course, drop me a line to let me know what you think of it so far and how you’re going.

The next instalment: release reviews

Since we’ve dealt with performances, shows, audiences and ethnography generally, the next instalment will see the course moving on: to release reviews. The release reviews section of the course will cover everything you need to write an effective review of an album.

In the interim, good luck with your band performance reviews. While my time is limited, I’m happy to give feedback on some performance reviews – so drop me a comment if you have one on which you would like feedback.

Past posts you might dig:

1. Music Journalism 101 – free online course*
2. Music Journalism 101c. Ethnography at Gigs
3. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.

Hopefully, if you’re diving into this next part of Music Journalism 101, that you’ve already read and made sense of 101 B – Ethnography. If not, and you only have a vague sense of what exactly ethnography is, I strongly suggest you go back and read it.

This section of the course does not cover how to write a review of bands performing on a stage in front of you. What it does cover is everything surrounding that: the show itself (people, sound, lights, vibe etc.). 

Also, with a bit of luck, you will have been practicing your observation skills, and learning the nuances of every situation you find yourself in. If you have been serious about learning how to hone your observational skills, you will also be finding yourself able to fairly sharply recreate those situations in writing. I am going to reiterate here that writers need to do ethnography – so if you don’t write, and you’re attempting ethnography, it’s possible that you won’t gain skills to the same extent as someone who writes often.

Ethnography at gigs

The crunch point, though, is actually finding yourself in a gig situation and being faced with the notion of doing ethnography through the entire show. If shows you head out to are anything like the ones I get to see, then you’ll find you’re faced with two, sometimes three or four, support acts, plus one or two headlining acts. The entire night can go from 7 pm until 2 am, all (or at least some) of your mates are there, everyone’s drinking and having a good time. If you’re a smoker, it’s very possible that, like here in Australia, you’re faced with the fact that you have to go outside to have a cigarette – so you have to factor that in as well.

There is a lot to take account of, but you can’t necessarily afford to be selective in what you take notice of. You need to be like a never-ending sponge, and absorb absolutely everything you can. If you have to take some notes when you head to the toilet, that’s perfectly ok: if it helps you to recreate a show faithfully, and if it helps you to retain the textures of the night (especially if you’re drinking too!) then by all means do it. If you are reporting for the media, make sure that if you’re drinking you don’t have so much that everything gets fuzzy – because then you’ll be in strife when you confront your notes the next day. Trust me, I’ve been there and it’s not a good feeling.

Observations that you will need to be conscious of

So, what particularly do you notice when you head out to a show?

1. How you feel about the show, before you get there

One of the first things, especially if you’re seeing a band you particularly like, or haven’t seen before, or thought you would never get to see (which happens a lot in Australia!), is how you feel about it. Writing ethnography is not about writing yourself out of the picture and concentrating on what’s happening around you; remember, you are a participant in the event, so what your thoughts and feelings are count enormously towards what is going on.

2. Mistakes that you make

If you are late to the show, if you miss a band, if you fuck up and get the wrong venue or the wrong time: write it all in! There is nothing more refreshing than someone who writes honestly about their participation.

3. When you first get to the venue: inside and out

The second thing is actually getting to the venue. What’s the weather like (important if there are going to be people congregating outside!) Is there a line at the door? How many people are there? What are the staff like? And so on.

When you get inside the venue, you are confronted with a million things at once: the state of the bar and how busy it is; where the merch table is and what sort of merchandise is available, and how popular it is; what the beer’s like; what the crowd’s like; and so on. There are so many things here that you can take notice of – and to some extent you need to cover them all.

Things like, what’s the male-female ratio like? For some genres, like grindcore, there is likely to be more males than females; for metalcore it might be balanced; for black metal it might be just slightly more blokes. Things like this make a difference because it often affects the ways in which crowds behave. A full-on circle pit that takes up a good proportion of front-of-stage is less likely to happen if there are more females than males, for example.

4. Remember that you’re participating and that what you see/hear does count!

While you’re taking notice of all of these things, you are hearing what people are saying; you are participating in conversations; you are drinking and/or smoking; you are getting a sense of the vibe of the show. Which brings me to the next point: trust your instincts. If you get a bad feeling from the crowd, trust it! It’s likely you’ll be right, or at least that it will impact on some other element of the show.

5. Crowd reactions

When you actually get to seeing the bands take to the stage, you’ll notice how the crowd reacts – and this is vital. If the crowd are bored, if they talk over the band, if they watch two songs and go back to the bar; if they swear at the band or heckle them (and if the band doesn’t respond to the heckling); and so on. Watching the crowd can give you a very strong sense of the band’s performance.

Crowd reactions can be vital, especially if you find yourself at a show that you don’t like. It’s happened to me that I had to cover a show (there’s been more than one) of a genre I intensely dislike, of bands I’d prefer to burn than see live. Yet, watching the crowd can give you more material than just the music, and if you can write it fairly – and focus on the crowd and the ways in which the band(s) play – then you have something that even a fan would be proud to read.

6. Properties of the venue

While you’re watching the band/crowd reaction (and hopefully enjoying the set too!) try to move around inside the band room of the venue and get a sense of the sound and the mix. There are some venues in which the sound is only good at the mixing desk. There are some where the sound is not affected by movement; some can’t take low-end at all; some you can’t hear the percussion; some are plagued by problems (broken or ineffective mics, blown-out or crap speakers, etc.); some are great until whoever’s behind the desk decides to ‘fix’ things – usually resulting in making things worse.

Also, if it’s a huge show (like Carcass, for example), take note of the lighting, any video that may be running, any special effects, or anything like that.

7. Remember why everything is important

While all of these elements are properly outside the review of the bands they all contribute to the way in which the show runs, and to punter satisfaction with it. As a music journo that heads out to review gigs, you are not just someone absorbing the performance of the band. That is a big part of it, of course, but there is so much more going on than just the bands playing. 

A metal gig is a gathering of a small community – so covering a show is way more than just watching a band play. There are bigger interactions at stake, not least the fact that a band’s performance can be correlated with an audience’s response. It’s a two-way street.

Activities between now and the next instalment

See if you can get out to a few shows and take notice of what’s going on around you, on all levels. Make notes if you have to (sometimes it’s essential), and when you get home try to sit down straight away and write it all up creatively. Try to recreate the experience from what you noticed at the show.

When you’ve done that, put it away for a few days, and don’t think about it. After that time, pull it out and re-read it – what sort of reaction to you get to your own work?

The next instalment: Reviewing a band’s performance

The next part of this course will talk in a little bit of detail about some of the ways in which you can review a band’s performance. Stay tuned.

Past posts you might dig:

1. Music Journalism 101b. Ethnography.
2. Music Journalism 101 – free online course*
3. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.

Ethnography is properly from the science of anthropology. In relatively recent years, the practice of ethnography has grown well beyond its original uses. These days, ethnographers are not just academics and researchers, but also essayists and nonfiction writers: people who go out into uncomfortable or odd situations and then write about their experiences afterwards. Others work in organisational communication, participating in a culture, writing about it, analysing it, to see how it could be improved and how knowledge can best be retained and used. Still others are in marketing – and there’s a whole field of enthography online now too (it’s called netnography, where the focus is on online communities).

One of the primary focuses of ethnography is on analysis through story, pattern recognition, and the awfully worded but reasonably apt notion of ‘transformation of the self’. The idea with the latter is that as an ethnographer, you can participate in an event (or community, or organisation) and that you will not be the same when you come out, as when you went in.

Ethnography is also self-reflexive practice. That is, it’s a style of work where you are continually reflecting on what you’re doing. You reflect on your own participation, on your own reactions to things, on your own style of being within that community. Even if such reflexivity is not written down formally, ethnographers use the reflection when they’re writing their work; it creates a rich, textured fabric of prose, such that the reader gets an instant, real sense of place, people, and times, and knows that it’s faithful.

At the same time, reflexivity allows the ethnographer to write him- or herself into the piece. This results in a piece of work that is not distant or seemingly “unauthored”, and gives the writing a sense of someone having been there, whether or not the reflective notions are written in.

In some ways, one could potentially approach music journalism – particularly when one is covering events – as though one might approach a ‘text’ in the sense that Fairclough might have. This would mean that a gig as a whole would be one ‘text’, the beer garden might be a ‘text’ within that one, and so on. One might feel inclined to examine the interaction observed between people’s roles, between texts, contexts, subtexts, and so on.

There have been various anthropological documentaries in the past few years that evaluate the culture and the notions behind the metal scene, but that is a whole separate issue, and one that is not relevant for the purposes of Music Journalism 101.

It is with the so-called ‘new’ ethnographies that we are concerned here. The ‘new’ ethnographies are creative narratives, focused more on the writer’s experience than on a particular culture. In terms of music journalism, this type of ethnography is really important. The idea of ‘participant observer’ is a key one, and the idea of being able to turn onto everything all at once and be able to get it down effectively is essential.

Lloyd Goodall put it well, when he wrote about the new ethnographies:

Unlike other methods of inquiry and writing, simply acquiring the knowledge and applying the processes involved doesn’t make you an ethnographer.

To become an ethnographer who writes new ethnographies requires habits of being in the world, of being able to talk and listen to people, and of being able to write – habits that are beyond method. These ethnographic practices involve a craft that anyone can learn, but there is also an art to it, a confluence made out of the person and the process, one that separates those who know about and can theorize new ethnography from those who know about, theorize about, and do it.

It is a difference that emerges on the written page.

Which is to say: New ethnographers are not researchers who learn how to “write it up,” but writers who learn how to use their research and how they write to “get it down”.

The key notion from Goodall’s work is that of ‘doing’ ethnography. It’s something you have to actively be aware of doing; it’s not passive work. It takes considerable conscious effort to do it well.

Doing a ‘new ethnography’ in the field of metal music journalism requires the habit of being a part of the metal community, the habit of being able to talk and listen to lots of different people on a common subject (music/metal) and as a peer. But you still need to be able to write, and to have a habit of writing – and if you can do this creatively, so much the better. As a metal music journo/ethnographer, you need to be able to “get it down” while you can, and flesh it out and create some new monster out of it when you’re no longer wrapped up in that show, or this festival, or that party. Making more out of your notes requires solid observational skills and the ability to recall elements effectively: the latter comes with conscious awareness.

Of course, what underpins all of these habits is the habit of observation. It is surprising how few people really understand or see what goes on around them, and how many fewer can recall it later on. The key is to practice your observational skills.

This lecture from Mark Rouncefield at Lancaster University includes notes on how to “do” organisational ethnography; lots of it is relevant to the present notion of ethnography as journalism and there are some excellent points he raises. With a bit of creative thought you can apply some of the principles to your own work.

The next instalment of this course will discuss doing ethnography at gigs and festivals in more detail.

Things to practice and key tasks

TASK ONE: Practice observation without taking notes

For the time being, your key task is to practice your observational skills. It doesn’t matter how or where you do this. You can do it in a park, in the supermarket, at your mate’s house, at a restaurant… wherever. Take notice of everything that goes on around you. You also need to participate as normal in whatever situation you’re in, without staring, without asking pointed questions; in short, you need to just do your thing.

Take notice of conversations, environment, smells, sounds… everything. Then, once you are outside the environment, write down as much of it as you can remember. Can you create a creative, interesting piece out of it? If you can write, this should be easy. Remember to include yourself in your environment – this part is essential.

TASK TWO: Honing your skills – observation and note-taking

Do the same as for task one, but periodically scratch some notes to yourself. If you’re out for dinner, a good way to do this is when you go to the toilet – but don’t do it so often that people think you’ve got diarrhoea! Once you’ve done it, take your notes and what you remember, and write it up as creatively as you can.
Reflection

Reflect on the process of observation and how it worked for you. What would you change, and why? What elements of the situation did you miss?

Reflect on the way you write up your work. How can you turn it into an interesting, richly textured nonfiction piece? What would you need to flesh out, what sort of different notes would you need to take?

Could you give your piece to someone else and have them “experience” the situation as well? Why or why not, and what would you need to do differently?

Do you find yourself getting distant, staring, or not participating fully in the situation or interaction? What sort of reaction did you get? Did you find people changing their behaviours? What could you do about this?

Past posts you might dig:

1. Music Journalism 101 – free online course*
2. Music Journalism 101a. Introduction.
3. On reviews and credibility: metal music journalism