one-week-old-adult

Some people say your 18th birthday is the first day of your life so I guess I've been alive for a week now. Changes have already occurred within my first week of adulthood; I've quit piano lessons and I've released FREAK. I'm also currently listening to the Suburbs album and I already feel nostalgic listening to the portrayal of teenage life in the suburbs/small towns. Whereas, a month ago I felt it reflected my current life as we wasted our hours driving around Auckland with nothing to do but searching for something to do. For some reason, I feel like I'm already looking back on my teen years - where I had minimal responsibility and commitments. Now I actually have a job.

It wasn't a hard decision for me to quit piano lessons because I hadn't been practising often and therefore each piano lesson was a waste of time and my parent's money. But I didn't realise the emotional consequence of erasing something that has been engraved into my weekly routine for 9 years. Every wednesdays at 4pm I was prepared to disappoint my teacher with my lack of practise or sometimes I was excited to please her with my improvement and fluency of Chopin, Beethoven, Debussy or Schumann.  Although my mum forced me into piano lessons and I initially hated it, I grew to accept it as a part of my life.  I grew to enjoy and embrace my musical abilities as I took music at school and realised I had a knack for music. I owe a lot to my piano teacher of 9 years as she gave me the foundation of my music knowledge because how else would I know what key signatures are?

Piano lessons have taught me more than how to play piano as it has also taught me the importance of practise because you will never progress without practise. Its taught me to keep playing and look forward if I make a mistake when I'm performing for others.  I almost cried when I was on the phone to my piano teacher as she advised me to continue playing piano in my spare time because the 9 years of piano lessons would go to waste. I've already cried a few times knowing I'm free on wednesdays now. I've been practising and playing piano but it sucks to know no one will hear it. Quitting piano lessons symbolised the end of a chapter in my life as I associate those memories of piano lessons with my childhood. I plan to continue to learn and practise piano pieces and surprise my teacher with a call asking to have a lesson to get some tips and constructive criticism. Nevertheless, I'm still a pianist.

The day before my 18th birthday, I began to make FREAK zine with an aim to finish it before midnight. I was making a birthday present for myself. I just wanted to produce something even if it were to be a shitty, little zine.  I had asked a lot of people to contribute content but I realised I'd probably be more pleased with it if I just do it all myself for the first issue. I drew the pictures, took the photos and wrote every word.  My back and knees became tender and sore as I sat crossed-legged on the floor cutting and pasting all day.   After a long day of typing, printing, paper-cutting and gluing, I finally finished it. Even though it's not what I had planned, I'm still pleased with the final product and I foresee a promising future for FREAK. I've proven myself I'm able to make things happen.  FREAK has helped me progress in my journey of 'not giving a fuck' as I post about FREAK without worrying about the amount of likes, comments or praise.

I just want people to be exposed to new ideas and experiences that they wouldn't receive from their family, friends or school. I understand I need to be social-media-savvy if I want FREAK to reach the masses and therefore I need to be totally shameless on instagram and tumblr. I don't care if its "cringe" or "annoying" of me to promote FREAK because at least I'm doing something. I've already accumulated a decent amount of interest for this first issue from people I don't often talk to. I haven't received any comments from the people I was associated with in school. I'm glad FREAK has attracted 'cool' people while repelling basic bitches but those people need FREAK because they need to educate themselves in individuality, social issues and good music. Some people don't care and some people think I'm weird (or a freak) but I don't give a fuck because I'm going to be successful as fuck.

Next week I'm meeting with the organiser of Auckland Zinefest to discuss possible opportunities for me to help organise zinefest.

" And here in my own skin

I can finally begin"

- Deep Blue, The Suburbs, Arcade Fire

- freak out

first time experiences: Laneway

We could only dream of experiencing anything resembling the world-famous music festivals like Coachella, SXSW and Glastonbury. Big Day Out was Auckland’s (smaller) version of Lollapalooza but it was cancelled once again and we were further deprived of musical discovery. But thank goodness for Laneway being the “next best thing”.

Laneway is entree-sized compared to the giant music festivals but it is still satisfies our hunger for good music. The line up doesn’t have Jay-Z or Arcade Fire as headliners but instead it has up-and-coming musicians who have played or are set to play at the renowned festivals. These artists include Banks, St Vincent, FKA Twigs, Mac Demarco, Jungle, RATKING and Flying Lotus. Laneway takes us to an alternate universe where the music isn’t played on top-40-radio and the musicians aren’t interested in fame or money.

Laneway 2015 fell upon a fiery day where the sun glared at us and we squinted like James Franco in Pineapple Express.  My friends and I prepared for our first Laneway experience with a Smirnoff lunch while Banks’ Warm Water flowed through the speakers. Time was not one of our concerns until we realised we might miss Mac Demarco at 3.05pm if we did not hurry. We sprinted along the crowded Auckland streets and past groups of underage teens yearning for the Laneway experience. One teenage boy had a Mac Demarco vinyl under his arm in hopes of meeting the artist outside the barriers.  Through the gates and security, we joined the population of 12 000 as we entered a land of manbuns, crochet tops, metallic tattoos and avid instagrammers.

Mac Demarco (from afar)

Mac Demarco, indie-rock’s lovable gap-toothed nutcase, attracted an expansive audience with his super-chill, ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ vibe. As Mac sung the opening line of Salad Days, “As I’m getting older…,” the audience instantly united with him. The ocean of people moved like gentle waves as they rocked back and forth on Mac’s wobbly, steel strings. His voice bounced upon the lullaby-like guitar melodies that glided through the warm air but were occasionally interrupted by belches and shrieks of ‘wazzup’s .  

Unfortunately, being late meant I was unable to sneak to a good position in the crowd of Mac Demarco fans. Being only 5ft, it was torturous for me since I was only able to get a quick glimpse of Mac in a Maggie Simpson t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap if I jumped high enough. Once I got on a stranger’s shoulders, I watched him play his Fender guitar as if it was his natural instinct and I was able to finally witness his trademark, scruffy red vans.

deal with it

In addition to being a talented musician, Mac is also a skilled performer who knows how to give the audience a good time.  He would introduce the next song in comical voices including a bellowing grunt of a stereotypical Canadian-lumberjack.  His performance was a paradox of his comedic personality and his heart-felt songs about dealing with adulthood, his newfound fame and his father’s drug habits.

Patience is the key to getting a spot at the front on the metal barriers. I was walking against the current of people leaving after Mac Demarco’s set in preparation for Jungle who weren’t scheduled to perform until an hour later. Meanwhile Royal Blood were on the next stage attacking their electric guitars and the ferocious vibrations traveled through the bars I rested myself on.

Jungle

At 5.40pm Jungle’s seven members streamed onto the stage and were ready to cascade their energetic electronic-neo-soul-funk music upon the sweating audience.  The audience increased the total millilitres of perspiration as they jigged to Jungle’s groove.  I was surprised to learn four voices of the seven members create the one, distinct voice of Jungle. Jungle personifies electronic music with live instruments (including conga drums!) instead of simply using a laptop, drum pad and synths like most electronic acts. They practice imaginative, quirky ways to create unique sounds and incorporate them in their music; glass coke bottles dangled as clanking chimes for the Heat. They took us on an island holiday with The Heat and Crumbler but their re-occurring sirens reminded us of our current surroundings – the urban jungle of Auckland. 

Spot Maggie Simpson

Laneway organisers had underestimated the reception for Banks as they placed her on a shoebox stage in an area with limited capacity (around 300-400 people).  We squeezed into the 200 square feet enclosure like battery hens. Luckily I was able shimmy myself to the second row – behind two girls who I soon discovered did not know Banks’ music. To be honest, I was not that excited to see Banks because I had seen youtube videos of Banks’ live performances and I cringed at her unsuccessful attempts to be sexy. But boy, Banks made me swallow my words.

I was astonished and impressed when she swaggered on stage with a radiation of sultry poise. I was in complete admiration of her confidence while she prowled around the stage like a panther disguised as a 21^st century femme fatale. But she broke out of her trance after she finished her opening song, Alibi, when a lasting explosion of applause and love occurred in front of her. She thanked us with watery eyes as she was genuinely grateful and shocked by our response to her music.  

The two girls in front of me had blank expressions cemented on their faces throughout the whole show, which frustrated me. The relationship between a musician and the audience is a two way street.   The performer feeds off the energy of the audience and vice versa. When a performer gives you their heart and soul, it is rude to not to reciprocate their efforts – especially if you are at the front where the performer can clearly see you. It’s completely discouraging for the performer when they see you looking bored. It was also unfair for Banks’ true fans that weren’t able to see the show because these ungrateful posers took the front row where a Banks fan could have been.

Banks

On the other hand, there was a plump, sunburnt giant standing front and center with the best view of the stage. He sported a Banks merchandise baseball cap while his Samsung galaxy wore a Banks phone case. Every time I looked to him, he was mouthing every lyric to Banks just incase she forgot them. Although he blocked everyone’s view that stood behind him, he deserved his spot since he was clearly one of Banks’ most devoted fans. 

Banks’ performance was an emotional expedition as she painlessly morphed between states of vulnerability and power. One second, she would sing as sweet as an innocent, pleading child. The next second, her voice would turn to venom while flicking up her middle finger in tribute of her ex-lovers. Banks bequeathed us her divinity as she gave assurance; “Every single one of you is a fucking goddess.” After she left the stage, her confidence remained amongst the audience as people seized her empowering words.

FKA Twigs

As nighttime arrived, people gravitated towards the stage where FKA twigs would be exhibiting an out-of-this-world experience.  The allure of FKA twigs is unexplainable since her music lacks catchiness and excitement but somehow the minimalistic electronic sounds still capture the audience. This time I didn’t bother with sneaking to the front and instead I climbed the scaffolding located 100ft away from the stage. FKA twigs is known for her whimsical staging aesthetic and I decided to watch her performance as an entire painting.  A creature floated through the smoky light like a silhouette puppet moving her twig-like limbs in unnatural ways.  FKA twigs’ swollen braids accentuated the size of her skull and created an illusion of an alien figure like The Fifth Element’s Diva Plavalaguna. I felt I was watching the scene in The Fifth Element where Diva receives a standing ovation for her melancholic-yet-electrifying opera performance.

Despite my respect for FKA twigs as a musician, producer and performer, I became bored with her performance as her slow-tempo songs blurred together with staleness. The most interesting part during the performance was meeting this young woman (I forgot her name) who was ranting about white privilege because a group of white teenage girls pulled her hair and took her spot in the FKA twigs mosh pit. FKA twigs overlapped with RATKING’s set and I now wish I had split my time between those acts.  I admire RATKING’s abrasive version of New York hip-hop but I missed my opportunity to see them and now I can only imagine the ruckus of a RATKING performance.

The end of my first laneway experience came hastily with a taste of Flying Lotus and a bite of St Vincent. I enjoy Flying Lotus’ music but I have prejudices against DJ performances since most of them just play music off their laptop, turn a few dials, slide a couple of nobs.  I tried to give Flying Lotus a chance to impress me but he proved I was right about the limpness of a DJ performance as he simply played his electronic music against a flashy lightshow. He would occasionally interact with the audience with forced small talk such as “Are you guys having fun?” After 10 minutes I left the field of party animals raving to videogame sound effects and preceded towards St Vincent.

St Vincent’s industrial-art-rock exuded a force of vibrancy and futurism with blasts of 80s synths mimicking the dialogue of computers.  She executed her music with robotic, glitchy eye blinks and head turns while her fingers raced along the guitar neck like she was programed to do so. I bet she was hiding her electric wires underneath her translucent skin and pleather Chinese qipao dress.  St Vincent demonstrated that female guitarists shouldn’t be overlooked while her baffling guitar solos trembled with intensity and aggressiveness like 70s punk rock. I reckon St Vincent is more gifted and talented than most male guitarists I’ve seen in concert. It is always inspiring to watch a musician play technically complex music because it makes you think, “How can they play that?! Damn, I wish I could play like that!” St Vincent, please teach me.

By the end of the night, Laneway had become a landfill of plastic cups and unfulfilled expectations.   I had anticipated more than what I received from the Laneway performers and organisers but some performers exceeded my expectations such as Mac Demarco, Banks and St Vincent. I was mainly frustrated with the overlapping performances as I was unable to see my some of my favourite musicians (e.g RATKING).  My first laneway experience was alright – it wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t great. I departed feeling satisfied but with a craving to watch and absorb more live creativity. 

See you next year, Laneway, but please better yourself in the meantime.

- freak out