LOUDER THAN WORDS
The Palace Hotel, Manchester | November 15th-17th
The ‘death of music journalism’ debate is a tiring humdrum that has every music critic rolling their eyes as they traverse the forever conclusion-less discussion. Their ploy, perhaps, is to wallow in denial by avoiding the topic, threatened by the thought that their penny-paying career may be perishing.
Louder Than Words scrutinises the subject, mustering academia and practice in an array of panel debates and inspirational conversations. Held in Manchester’s Palace Hotel, the festival is a banquet of conversation, garnished with oversized, gold-edged curtains and opulent chandeliers. Each tale comes riddled with Mancunian history, with the Club Culture panel inevitably occupied by tales of Hacienda memoirs and ecstasy confessions. A grimy start to Saturday morning, with every contributor musing over nebulous nights spent bathing in their own sweat rollicking to Born Slippy. Confessing that drug writing can be somewhat self-indulgent, talk of Gonzo Journalism is prompted, primarily lending advice to the audience’s students. Renowned journalism quotes are slipped in where possible, with ‘Writing about music is like dancing to architecture’ reverberating across the majority of the weekend’s conversations.
The entire festival is defined by daring declarations; “Bob Marley is the biggest figure in the world” was one such startling remark falling from the lips of Chris Salewicz, causing the audience to recoil in their seats rather than contradict the NME legend.
“I thought My Bloody Valentine and Jesus and Mary Chain were going to change the world”, Alan McGee confers with musician and novelist John Robb, who delivers a distinctively guttural voice. Together they reminisce the golden years of Creation Records and participate in the persisting motif of audacious claims: “and My Bloody Valentine did kind of change the world, 20 years later”. Alan allows the audience to plummet into the depths of his and his label’s lives, divulging the reasons why he spawned Creation Records; a surprisingly narcissistic attempt to congregate popularity in Glasgow and to win the heart of an attractive girl.
After apparently scalding himself with a kettle, Mick Middles is substituted with Tom Hingley of Inspiral Carpets in the Music Obsessives panel. A tempestuous conversation primarily occupied with misogyny, yet certified with statistics, with all contributors concurring with the undeniable truth that men are far more likely to collect music than women. Nevertheless, their perspectives on why men dominate the industry are far less plausible, causing anguish amongst the audience.
Maintaining musings on women in the industry, Stella Grundy’s enthralling yet dense performance on Sunday afternoon depicts chauvinistic encounters. Dishevelling the festival’s organised structure, Stella executes a lengthy but compelling monologue, adapting her play The Rise and Fall of a Northern Star to charm the Mancunian-dominated audience with regular references to the city.
Briskly mutating from her role of Tracey Star to the Women in Rock panel, Stella participates in a refreshing jaunt. The chat is inspiring and tenacious, with music solicitor Carol Isherwood recalling her tiresome exertions as a woman musician, asserting “You have to be twice as good to become successful in the industry”.
Dr. Feelgood’s Wilko Johnson amasses a brimful room of reverent onlookers, cheekily brandishing his expertise in Icelandic and discussing his heroic response to being diagnosed with terminal cancer earlier this year, substituting treatment for a UK tour in the pursuit of saying goodbye to his fans. As he awards his eponymous under-25 writing prize, the winners are recognisably weak at the knees as they scramble onto the stage to shake his hand.
Dumbfounding the audience, first place winner Ryan Carse sabotages the humdrum, declaring “as long as we have great music, we need great words to go alongside it”. It effectively sees the festival draw conclusion on the burdensome scrutiny, and successfully draws a line on this celebration of an infinite, mutual relationship.
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Words: Ayesha Linton-Whittle
Photo: Melanie Smith
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