Hidden in Plain Sight

What I need is a philosophy. If I can manage that then the music will take care of itself. After all, any two-bit twerp with a stick and an empty biscuit tin can make music - and Lord knows most of them do. They're out there, millions of them across the world, like zombies in a George Romero flick: strumming guitars at the acoustic night down the local boozer, knocking out perniciously competent rock in low-rent rehearsal studios, fingering keyboards in wedding reception covers bands, or, like me, tapping away on a computer in splendid isolation - Rock Gods of the bedroom.

It's never been easier to make music. And it's never been easier to put that music out there for public consumption. You'd think this was a good thing, but I'm not so sure. There's an ad for Microsoft running at the moment in which a young indie woman says she's not upset about being dumped by her boyfriend coz it'll give her material for an "album" recorded on her (Microsoft-supported) home studio. For me, the ad conjures up a nightmare vision of a world drowning in adolescent outpourings. The very last thing the world needs is another set of cliches about failed relationships. Soon every time someone steps in dog shit there'll be a song about it on myspace.com. And the net result will be to make it harder to spot the good stuff buried under a mountain of dross. It'll be hidden in plain sight.

Background Notes

[The following excerpt is from "The Yahoo.com Directory of Pop No-Hopers"]

After being kicked out of the paramilitary wing of the Jesuits, Captain Howdy spent five years writing mood music for British porno movies (NB: the distinctive feature of British Porno movies is that they feature no sex whatsoever - see, for example, the classic "No Sex Please, We're British Porno Film Makers").

An accident involving two bottles of absinthe left Howdy numb down his right side and manager of UK pop funsters, The Simpletons. His reign of terror saw the band attract absolutely no offers from record labels, major or small. They didn't even play any gigs, for Christ's sake.

Bouyed by this triumph, and depressed by the appalling adequacy of so much guitar-based indie music, the Captain decided it was time to leave the shadows and take centre stage. Though armed only with a laptop and a laughably amateurish sequencing software package, the Captain has something far more important: a list of arbitrary rules:
1. No songs about ex-girlfriends.
2. For God's sake don't bare your soul because it looks just like your big, fat, hairy arse.
3. No instrumentals.
4. No songs about taking drugs.
5. "Experimental" does NOT mean "unlistenable" - though they are close cousins.
6. No gigs.
7. Capture the zeitgeist, pin it down and pummel it until it stops moving.

Captain Howdy reserves the right to break some or all of the above rules at any time.