Press passes, promoters and learning the game
By Eric Dawson
I first wrote for BLANK back in 2013. I was in grad school at UT at the time and freelance-writing for Metro Pulse and a few other places. I wanted to go to Hopscotch Music Festival in Raleigh, North Carolina, and knew Metro Pulse would have no interest in a review of a music festival, especially one not in Knoxville. There was, however, a newer alternative paper in town that did cover music festivals in other cities; in fact, at times it seemed as if it was created for the primary purpose of the publisher and contributors getting free passes to cover music festivals.
I’ve always been skeptical that many people in Knoxville really cared about what happened at a music festival in, say, Kentucky, but to this day BLANK still covers out-of-town festivals, so there must be some interest.
Even though I agree with critic Richard Meltzer that the relationship between media and the music business is very sordid and compromised, that promoters essentially buy good press with passes, favors and swag, the man also titled his anthology of music criticism “A Whore Just Like the Rest” because he knows the game is the game. Meltzer eventually swore off music-industry favors and swag, but he was older when he did that (certainly older and more financially stable than 2013 me), and I really wanted to go to Hopscotch.
I hadn’t met BLANK publisher Rusty Odom, but I shot my shot and pitched my pitch to him via email.
He wrote back something like, “Sounds cool, bud, send a writing sample.” I sent a link to coverage of Moogfest and a few reviews I’d written for Tiny Mix Tapes’ website, and he was on board. Soon I was approved for a media pass by Hopscotch, but as the festival drew near, I had yet to receive a pass or more information. So I contacted Hopscotch PR and they were like, “BLANK already has two other people who’ve requested press credentials,” and I was like, “Dang, they really are milking it.”
It all seemed a little iffy, so I contacted Rusty, and it turns out he forgot I had pitched coverage. Fair enough, as I was new to the BLANK game (not yet “fam,” as he likes to say), but I wasn’t going to let it go. I wanted to go to Hopscotch and see Spiritualized, Charlemagne Palestine, Angel Olsen, the Sleep reunion, Wolf Eyes with Merzbow and a lot more besides. Rusty had never heard of several of these bands, which goes to show he was probably correct in assigning two other writers to cover it, but I was like, “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure and cover The Breeders and Future Islands and John Cale, too.”
As it happened, both of the other would-be attendees couldn’t make it for one reason or another, so BLANK’s sole coverage of Hopscotch was to be of bands most of its readers were not familiar with at the time. This was at a time when Big Ears had paused operations after only two editions, and a lot of people in Knoxville would continue to make fun of it for several years after it relaunched in 2014, making derisive comments about “people dressed in black.” (We have print copies of old BLANK issues at the History Center, Rusty, so we have the receipts.)
Speaking of back issues, you won’t find one with my Hopscotch review because it never ran in print. I don’t blame Rusty for killing it or whatever turn of events led to it not running. Lest you think I was kidding about seeing obscure bands at Hopscotch, have you ever heard, or even heard of, Richard Youngs? Because he was my highlight of the weekend, and as evinced in this bit from my unpublished review, he didn’t even draw well:
“The English musician is known for his unpredictable and prolific output (he probably has close to 200 recordings counting collaborations), and no one seemed to know what he would be doing at Hopscotch. So much of his stuff leans to the noisey/experimental side of things, it was kind of surprising when he took to the stage with an acoustic guitar and performed a hypnotic, 15-minute long version of “Spin Me Endless in the Universe,” from his new album. He then performed a few songs a cappella, one in which he petitioned the audience to accompany him by imitating a drumkit falling down the stairs.
Youngs performed at the vast Memorial Auditorium and commented that he had never played half a stadium before. An audience of less than 100 people had assembled in a venue that seats 3800, and as someone joked in a tweet, 80% of the audience was made up of musicians. Though not very well known, and hardly a draw, the organizers obviously love his music, so he got to open for John Cale in the venue’s largest and lushest venue. That’s the Hopscotch way.”
Alas, the 2013 BLANK reader was denied this urgent report, as well as my thoughts on Charlemagne Palestine and Protomartyr. But the story has a happy ending because I didn’t really care that much it wasn’t published; BLANK rarely paid anyway at the time, and I got to go to a music festival for free. And I eventually found my niche writing about my work with TAMIS and the McClung Collection at the East Tennessee History Center, which BLANK has published for years now.
In the end, maybe the true swag was the fam we made along the way.
