Local Wednesday: ‘Fairweather Friends’ by Ferns

I was on a car ride to Mont Kiara when I was listening to Ferns’ sophomore album, Fairweather Friends for the first time, and it was rather amazing how the album in its entirety fits into my being like gloves to hands. The album is the weekender’s kind of album – it doesn’t matter if you’re out at your favourite weekend café sipping on artisanal coffee with your friends, or lazing at home because you can, there is a song to suit any mood you might be going through on a weekend. Something fluffy and snug, something versatile and adaptable.

Like the titled track, the anticipated dawn of the day, as the sun rises over the horizon. No jarring alarm clocks, or early morning appointments to rush to. You wake up whenever, you linger in your bed, tangled in your sheet however long you want. Rearranging yourself in bed with the body next to you – cat, dog, or lover, whichever way that best fits the both of you.

Hey, remember the 50s? Letterman jackets, A-line skirts, knee-high socks, milkshakes with whipped cream and a cherry on top? Yeah, me neither. But Ferns did bring us back to that era of good loving fun, especially in Miss Stormcloud, or for Dismay and Apparitions, a high school prom filled with ill-fitting pastel blue suits with ruffles illuminated by the slow-spinning disco ball above you. The elementary percussion and bass rhythm, clean backing vocals complementing lead Warren’s dreamy vocals. It does remind you of simpler times, even ones we would have just seen on television or in movies, without necessarily having lived them ourselves.

Anti Social Scene goes: “I’d rather be doing something else / Should’ve never left my home / My cover’s blown”.  We all have those weekends, when even though events and activities are abundant, and you may or may not be required to attend at least one of them, and you may have headed out because your friend insisted you to and you feel obliged to. (And don’t you just hate it when some of them pull the “don’t be so lansi” card?). And when you do, you’d kick yourself and go: “Well, that was a terrible idea.” All you want to do is just sleep in, curl up in bed catching up on your reading, or just go on a 12-hour Modern Family marathon. But noooo. We do live a life where we do things we don’t necessarily like out of obligations, don’t we?

And there are also those weekends, when you have chosen to stay at home despite the abundant events and activities happening around you. You know, those weekends when you can’t give a fuck if the world is just passing you by. But there you are, browsing through your Facebook timeline, and popping up minute after minute, your friends’ endless pictorial testimonies of their latest escapade at a rave party, an indie flea market, or a shopping spree. And you think to yourself: “Feels just like I should be having more fun”. We can be such a sourpuss sometimes, can’t we?

But of course, there should be weekends when you are at the right place, at the right time, with the right people. It does not necessarily have to be something of gigantic proportion, like attending an alcohol driven event, or having a massive dinner party. It could be something as little and approached with such grace as meeting up with a favourite friend at your favourite restaurant eating your favourite dishes. You know, things you do that just feels – right. There should be weekends like that, that is lived without obligations you don’t want to make, but only things you want to do at your own time, at your own pace. Things you do that make you go: “A-OK, I might not be that kind of guy / But hey, it’s OK”. Or else what’s good about life, really?

Good things take time to grow, and it has taken the quirky indiepoppers Ferns some four years to mature a garden of good natured pop tunes from their On Botany days back in 2007, into their sophomore attempt titled Fairweather Friends, and what a dandy little garden it has turned out to be. Like that little garden out back, it’s something you could rely on on the best of days over the weekend, and at the same time, something you could relate to on the lesser of days.

W: Ferns.Bandcamp.com
T: @fernsband

La vie en Sigur Rós

Event: Urbanscapes Festival presents Sigur Rós
Date: November 25, 2012 (Sunday)
Venue: Padang Astaka, Malaysia

Till this day, I still find it hard to believe that Urbanscapes Festival, what started off as a mere local creative arts festival, managed to bring around something as phenomenon in size as Sigur Rós for their 10-year milestone this year. I mean, yes, I was much delighted when LAMC Productions announced their Singapore concert instalment a few months earlier, but this – this.

Sigur Rós, I have always thought, to be one of the few bands that I would have to make an effort to go see live. Like Radiohead. We have spoken so often about flying all the way to Iceland to see this peculiarly comforting post rock band live in their homegrown habitat. It’s something we have to do, somewhere down our busy urban lives. Be it something to check off for our mid-life crisis, or something to check off our lives once and for all, it has to be done. Yet. Here they were.

I suppose, now is the time that much more credit has to be given to the local event organisers. This year alone, they all have achieved so much. Despite the many downfalls and disgruntles that come along with each of the events, I am still proud of them, and I am glad to be in the middle of it all, at this time and age.

It has been an awful month, to be honest. So much happened, and so much realisations dawned. Despite the few good things that managed to slip in between the cracks, November has been, for the most part, discouraging. Most things did not seem to be going right, and I just long for that one day when I know things will be somewhat alright again, by putting life on hold just for a little while, in the hands of someone who seems to know something of the subconsciousness that I often fail to realise – put words in my mouth, reawaken feelings in my heart.

I was disheartened that my initial plan to catch them in Singapore, to catch them twice, was smothered, and with a heavy heart I had to sell off my concert ticket to a stranger, whom at the very last minute, could not take it off my hands anyway. (And also, to later find out that they played Fljótavík, one of my favourites there and not here – oh the frustration!). So, of course I was excited, to say the least, come Sunday. So much so that I could not wait to get out of my house and get to the festival. Moments leading up to the concert, I was just bouncing at the balls of my feet.

Like sweet dreams from the night before, Sigur Rós crept into our presence with the light footsteps of Í Gær, easing us in, preparing us for that great depression we once grew familiar with in their 2007 compilation album Hvarf/Heim. Proceeding to guide us through the vague subconsciousness behind closed eyes, the archangel Jón Þór Birgisson, or more commonly known by the lesser beings and the non-Icelanders as Jónsi, led us with the sleepless Svefn-g-englar with hypnotising rhythmic drops that echo, and breathed life into the strings of his guitar, transmitting them through the booming speakers onto us, giving us life once again.

The most loved song for the night was, of course, Hoppípolla. When the familiar intro flooded across the mud field of fans, everyone cheered, and was pretty much ready to jump into puddles (of mud). However, I somehow could not grasp the magnificence of the song that night, one that would never fail to make me smile hearing the crescendo rhythm through my headphones, and would make my arms pimply at the climatic bridge. Perhaps it was the inappropriately rowdy surrounding near me, or the way Jónsi had sang his Icelandic verses, hence not creating that effect he had in the recordings. Whilst some friends who had patronised the Singapore installment said this was better, but whatever it was, there was a bar I set for this song, and Sigur Rós did not quite hit the mark that night, unfortunately.

They, instead, hit it for songs unexpected for me. Varúð, one of the newer ones from their latest album Valtari, with the smoke effects creating such eerie haunt playing with the blaring stage lights, and the background display of multiple souls from faceless beings, leaving bodies and finding their peace with the abundant stars in the skies, they made immaculate synchronicity with the steady beat of the drum growing louder, before fading off to the cherub voices echoing:  “Varúð…”

Sigur Rós too gave us a lick of where their next working album is going towards with the premiere of Brennisteinn on Malaysian soil. Heard foremost at the Iceland Airwaves Festival in their hometown Reykjavik, and at the many subsequent shows after, it was said to be anti-Valtari, and possessed such darkness and more rock elements to it, which created the perfect lead up to their signature ending song, Popplagið – that has once ended ( ), and Inni, and now, the 10th installment of a once small time local creative arts festival. How the stage lights just ran amok as the feedbacks of Jónsi’s bow running recklessly across the strings of his electric guitar, and his eerie pitch, on repeat, reached far across all four corners of Padang Astaka, as if reminding us obsessively, compulsively: remember, remember this moment, as we end the night with such might.

Many lives completed in full circle that night. Mine included, suffice to say. Damien Rice, Death Cab for Cutie, Dashbord Confessional, and now – this. Never in my life have I ever thought that I would be able to catch all the bands and musicians I want to see live before I turn 30. It just makes you wonder: what now? Where do you go from here, when all the ones on top of your list are checked off? Festivals, perhaps. Yes. That would be a feat. Or I could turn back around, and start all over again, in a whole different place. There is still always the dream of seeing Sigur Rós in Iceland. Heh.

That one time when I flew all the way to Melbourne to watch Radiohead live.

Event: Radiohead live in concert
Date: November 17, 2012 (Saturday)
Venue: Rod Laver Arena, Melbourne, Australia

It’s no secret that I like my regular stints down to Singapore to catch a good act performing live. Travelling any further than that has been, thus far, mere wanderlust talk: to catch Summer Sonic in Japan, to revel in the famous Glastonbury in the UK, and to drink in Sigur Ros in Iceland.

Maybe I was getting tired of it just being Singapore. Maybe I wanted something different for a change. Maybe I wanted to do something ‘crazy’. So, when Radiohead announced their Australian shows back in February (a few months after hearing their show in Taipei sold out within minutes), I thought, why the hell not?

It was a chance to experience a different concert crowd in another country as well, and may I just say that I love the Australian concert crowd. Everyone was so well-behaved, it made the better part of Malaysian and Singaporean concert goers seem barbaric.

Everyone made the most of their money’s worth for a live show. They do not hold random chit chats with their friends when the performers were at it onstage, and there was not a sea of beaming smart phone screens in the air throughout the show. Occasional ones, perhaps, to snap a quick shot or so, but overall, everyone just reveled in the live concert experience, instead of busying themselves recording the show and missing it out live.

Everyone was really there to enjoy the concert and the music, and more importantly, they were all respectful to other concert goers, and don’t get in each other’s hair.

Weeks leading up to the concert, I came across the stage setting for Radiohead’s concert through glimpses of photos unintentionally, and for someone jakun like me, I was more than excited to see it all live. Besides the floor to ceiling LED back screen, they had about twelve LED flatscreens hung off the ceiling, suspended in midair like fallen shards of glasses magnified, frozen in time. For every song, these screens would change formations, either at random, or that would best suit the mood of the song, reflective against the band members: lead Thom Yorke, guitarists Colin and Jonny Greenwood and Ed O’Brien, and drummer Philip Selway.

Radiohead eased into this leg of their Kings of Limbs tour with Lotus Flower, something futuristically, psychedelically electronica, and throughout the set, peppered numbers from their latest album like Separator, Feral and Give Up The Ghost. There were also a fair share of beloved tracks from six of their preceding albums, save Pablo Honey, seemingly shying away on purpose from more commercially known songs like High and Dry, No Surprises, Karma Police, and yes, even Creep, prioritising more on the quality of a mindblowing live show, rather than a sing-a-long song fest.

Personally, the beginning of the set was rather monotonous, but as time passed, you could see a slow yet healthy ascension for the overall arch of the night. With sprouts of occasional climaxes from respective songs, like There There, You and Whose Army?, and Paranoid Android, the lights onstage went off with every musical eruption. Oh, you should have seen how everything combusted for Paranoid Android. Deafening sounds, blinding lights… it just eats into you.

Fans seemed to warm up towards the middle, and when they began to react more to the older and more lovable ones, everything just felt more alive in the arena. Not to mention, Yorke feeding off the crowd energy with his animated onstage persona, dancing along to his songs as if thousands of fans were not watching him, and cracking somewhat lame jokes with the locals every once in a while, it was rather entertaining.

Yorke too paced the night with a couple of slow ones like How to Disappear Completely and These are My Twisted Words. When the screens arranged themselves over Yorke, as the white light rained down on him like a God sent, and his words echoed through the speakers: “Strobe lights and blown speakers / Fireworks and hurricanes / I’m not here, this isn’t happening / I’m not here, I’m not here” – it did feel surreal for me at that point in time. Did I really go all the way to Australia just to see Radiohead? Is this really happening? Am I really here?

It wasn’t long till I was reassured. By the second encore, (why yes, there were two encores!), after toning down from Idioteque with equally soothing but musically distinct Give Up the Ghost and Reckoner, the night fell into this comfortable solace with Everything in Its Right Place. (Cheesy and a tad obvious, but well, still – right). The tousled synth beats, the repetitive haunts of “What was it you tried to say?”, tattooing its presence in your memory. All jumbled up at the wrong time, but coming together to a firm end that seemed appropriately right.

So yes, I did. I travelled all the way to Australia to catch Radiohead live, and their concert that was the last one of their Kings of Limbs tour, which they set out nine months ago. That’s quite special already in its own right, no?

It’s something that I would probably do again. Travel to a new country, and if timing permits, catch a concert there while I am at it. Make the trip all the more worthwhile, I would say. I am beginning to like being caught in the midst of a totally different concert culture, just to see what it is like – crowd wise and production wise. And to know that you are in a strange place where not everyone knows you, that you are akin to a wanted suspect blending into the crowd and living like Romans do. All that is left to entertain is just the music, which is really what it is all about at the end of the day.

Spotlight Sunday: Sigur Ros, Seattle, Washington DC

August 8, 2012
Valtari Tour
The Paramount Theatre, Seattle, Washington DC
(via David Lichterman)

Friday Five: 5 Icelandic bands to check out other than Sigur Ros

5 Icelandic bands to check out other than Sigur Ros

There is much to love about Iceland. The 11PM sunset, the orchestral Aurora Borealis, the eerie yet soothing landscape, and of course, the music that churns from its cold bosom. It goes without saying that Sigur Ros is up there on the list – well, at least for me anyway, but Iceland does hold a few hometown glories that they can be as proud of. Here are five other Icelandic music acts that who aren’t totally like Sigur Ros but will give you a different perspective of the land far, far away.

#1: Green Grass of Tunnel by Múm

W: Mum.is
T: @mumtheband

#2: Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men

W: OfMonstersAndMen.is
T: @monstersandmen

#3: Sunny Road by Emiliana Torrini

W: EmilianaTorrini.com

#4: Inside Your Head by Eberg

W: Facebook.com/EbergMusic
T: @eberg1

#5: Sjáumst í Virginíu by For a Minor Reflection

W: ForAMinorReflection.com
T: @foraminor

For more Icelandic bands and Iceland inspired bands, here are a few more.

Sigur Ros will be performing to a sold out crowd in Singapore today at Fort Canning Park, and Malaysia this Sunday for Urbanscapes Festival.

Friday Five: 5 cover versions of Radiohead’s ‘Creep’

5 cover versions of Radiohead’s Creep

Much like Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, Creep is one of the few handful of timeless classics that have been remade and covered to death that transcends over generations of musicians from all walks of life. Here are a few outstanding ones I managed to scour over the Internet. From Broadway lass, to opera choir lads. From homeless talents off the streets, to Bollywood bandits with a Hindi beat. Some as chilling as the original version itself, while others are just a little slightly off tangent.

#1: Carrie Manolakos

#2: Homeless Mustard

#3: Scala & Kolacny Brothers

#4: Korn

#5: Bill Bailey and the Bollywood Pandits

And here, the original maestros themselves.

Spotlight Sunday: Radiohead, Manchester, Tennessee

June 8, 2012
Bonnaroo Festival
Great Stage Park, Manchester, Tennessee
(via Live Bootlegs)

Music Monday: ‘Coexist’ by The XX

When The XX were first introduced to us three years back, they became an instant indie pop sweetheart to a lot of us. They drew us in with the intriguing MPC taps and captivating vocal breaths. We were drawn into this whole new world of theirs with the debut xx, the sensual sway of Islands and Crystalised, the lovable quirks of VCR and Heart Skipped a Beat, and the hopeful possibilities of Fantasy and Stars. It was like meeting a whole new person you never expected to meet that you just fell head over heels too quickly. A mystery you want to unravel so you can love them all over again with a new piece of fact you discovered.

The XX marks the spot, and you hit gold with it.

Everyone loves a little adventure in this mundane life of ours, don’t we?

Three years later, here you are. And here is Coexist. It’s not to say that it has been a smooth ride all this while, yet it’s not to say that things have been all bad either. Accidentally, yet unintentionally, you two have grown so comfortable with each other – maybe not completely in a good way. Maybe it’s a good thing that you can finish each other sentences, maybe it’s a good thing you can hear what the other is thinking without them saying it out loud. But sometimes, it gets so predictable that there doesn’t seem to be any thrill anymore, the heart doesn’t skip a beat anymore, wondering if the next step you take is a landmine or just mere soft ground. And sometimes, you feel guilty for hoping it’s a landmine you step on, only to feel the adrenaline rush of an unexpected surprise.

Angels is like waking up on the good side of the bed in the morning with this lover by your side. You love it that they are there next to you. Maybe not “in love” anymore, but what is left of it. Sometimes, it makes you smile thinking about it, the leftovers. Sometimes, it doesn’t.

While some days are just plain dull, like Swept Away and Tides. So monotonous, so – meh. It’s not to say that it’s a bad thing that you feel comfortable enough to walk in front of them with only your underwear, or that they have memorised all the usual spots that turn you on when you make love, but I suppose, maybe once in awhile, you want them to pay attention to you instead of having one eye on the television screen, or catch you off guard by having you their way up against the wall – who knows, maybe you might find something you never knew would entice you before.

Then, there are days when your footsteps don’t seem to fall the right way in the right pace as your partner’s. Like Chained and Try, they seem to be marching to a different parade that leave you confused and slightly panicky. What if someone else is marching along with them in unison? What if they are marching on without you, leaving you behind?

Fiction, Reunion and Sunset – like reflective snippets of the person you have always known, and you breathe a sigh of relief that some things still remain the same. That maybe, a part of you do want this predictability or this comfortable, familiar thing you have. Maybe you aren’t as adventurous and experimental as you used to be three years ago.

Maybe it’s true when they say you will never go back to what you used to be when you first met. That first meet of the eyes, that first love for their smiles, that first hold of their hands, that first kiss of their lips. Maybe it’s not that the spark has dwindled off, maybe you have gotten so used to it that they become these burning embers in your fireplace that keeps you warm on colder nights.

It’s not that The XX is monotonous in Coexist. Technically speaking, the tracks are still as experimental and different from the next one, as those were in xx. But the infatuating first love has passed, and no matter how much each song varies melodically, rhythmically, lyrically, they all still seem bland somehow. There seem to be a lot more misses than hits this time around, more that don’t quite sit right, compared to the first one.

But then again, it’s not necessarily bad for all. Maybe some couples do like getting comfortable with their relationships. They get down on one knee, get married, have babies and bellies. Maybe to them, Coexist measures to par with xx, and their experimentations all seem just and similar, whilst vary in the name of a sophomore album. Maybe some other couples are just having a three-year itch, tempted by all things that aren’t familiar to them to win back this thrill they used to see in this lover. Or. Maybe some other couples are just pessimistic, paranoid, as if waiting for the sky to fall, when the universe has been holding everything together fine and dandy.

Maybe it’s all about perspective. Maybe it’s time to ask yourself if it’s time to leave this lover you used to love, and find someone new.

Maybe you are the one who wants to be adventurous again.

W: TheXX.info

Enjoy it while it lasts, indeed

Events: TOPMAN presents Spector live in concert (or was it showcase?)
Date: October 6, 2012 (Saturday)
Venue: The Stage, Avenue K, Malaysia

It’s one of those nights, when days leading up to it, you already have a very strong feeling that it’s gonna be a good night, a good, good night. You look forward to it, listening to their only album again and again, day in and day out, to and from work, so sure with all your heart that just based on those 12 songs, it’s going to be a great live show. And when the day has arrived, you decided to dress up a little bit more than you usually would to a music gig, hoping you would not miss out on this good night you have been feeling about for days.

For a Saturday night, the indie chic Londoners Spector got everyone on an immediate high with their dance-y number Friday Night, Don’t Ever Let it End, and continued to keep us on a high throughout with their popular singles like Celestine (which I like to pretend is my song, for obvious reasons, heh) and Chevy Thunder. A good percentage of the crowd was nothing short of style, compared to vocalist Frederick Macpherson, guitarist Christopher Burman, bassist Thomas Shickle, synthesiser Jed Cullen and drummer Danny Blandy, donned to the nines onstage with their quirky yet suave style.

However, we were still building ourselves up to a high, when Frederick introduced their first single, Never Fade Away, to be the last song of the night. Perhaps he was pulling our legs, we thought. One cannot perform a gig in Malaysia, or anywhere else really, without having an encore. But when the tech guy at the side of the stage started packing up their guitars and amps, we reluctantly and begrudgingly accepted that it was indeed over.

What about True Love (For Now), or Lay Low, or No Adventure? Heck, what about the rest of their album, or perhaps a few cover numbers thrown in the mix? Anything to make a gig like this seem more like a concert rather than a showcase, really.

Personally, I thought it was a waste to have them only perform a mere 45-minute set, so much so that a lot of us were left lost and confused when things ended so abruptly. Where do we go now, when we have initially planned for this to last the entire night, we found ourselves asking. (Which I find somewhat amusing, actually, despite the conundrum).

Spector is what I could say is a new band that I have gotten on with rather effortlessly after such a long time, and I rarely get on with new bands so easily. I cannot remember the last time I would actually pore over the CD sleeve just so I could sing along perfectly with a band whilst driving, instead of haphazardly mumbling along what I consider as proper words. I could listen to Frederick’s melodic love drunk voice forever.

But then again, that’s just one regular concert goer’s sentiments. For all I know, it could be the band’s, or the sponsor’s, or the organiser’s request to only perform a short one. It is just a shame that we only got to have a taste of Spector, instead of the whole ordeal.

I suppose they meant it when they say “enjoy it while it lasts”, eh?

Music Monday: ‘Powder’ by Kevin Sampson

Eddy loaned me this number some time back that threw my reading list off course a bit. (Some time ago, because I am a painstakingly slow reader, and would only read on weekend mornings over a cup of tea). I suppose, it was because back then I was talking to him about potential offers in managing certain local bands, when it inspired him to pull this old one off his shelves for me to read.

A novel from the late 90s, Powder revolves around an up and coming fictional band from Liverpool, The Grams, consisting of band members lead vocalist Keva McCluskey, star-powered guitarist Hector Lovett, or more famously known as James Love, and the seemingly tag-along bassist Beano, and drummer, Tony Snow.

It speaks of the band’s rise to fame. From that period before everything goes into motion, that phase that aches to want to be famous already after years of hardwork, the teeth gritting competition with their arch nemesis Sensira, who seemed to have chanced upon fame so effortlessly. We all know how that feels, giving your all into something you’re passionate about, yet someone else seems to beat you to it in reaping the rewards, as if without lifting a finger.

To that crucial moment before all hell breaks loose – in a good way, for a band. It is like handling a malnutrition baby born before its time. Every move you make then is important, because it sets your band out on how you want to be perceived by the public. The magazines you decide to be in, which magazine to prioritise because of its readership or its impact they have on the music industry, and in what kind of formats – a front cover feature, or a mere writeup, or a puny review. Which media you decide to be heard in – the all-or-nothing big guns of the mainstream, or the slow-but-eventual rise via the indie stations, and which record stores to hit it hot and when to hit them best. Not to mention, which song you choose to be the debut single, and how you would go about with the music video that would leave an everlasting impact, long after your band’s name has gone to the shits. And which venues to go for on tour, the big bang arenas and risk a loose crowd, or a lesser known cabaret hall packed to the brim, with the band feeding off the fans’ energy.

I suppose it has something to do with me being a writer, but the most interesting bit for me was when they decide if they should accept a potentially useful exclusive front cover story on Mojo Magazine. The battle between the press publicist manager Todd, and publicist Hannah, and how each has their own years of experience and point of views for argument on whether or not to take the offer. Accepting it would be obvious. It’s an exclusive, it’s a front cover, which budding band wouldn’t want that? But that would also mean closing doors for a lot more music magazines out there, most especially Britain’s hottest and still music magazine, NME. It may seem glamorous at that point, but you might risk the chance of many more cover opportunities in the future.

Whilst the local magazine industry does not run as such that bands have to decide on such priorities, it still amazed me, when I read it, how something seemingly so fickle can be of such importance for a band about to hit stardom. One can only imagine how muddy the future for the band would look back then, not knowing which path holds the key to a clean eventual success.

Powder shows for a band how not to get in over your head at the beginning, and throughout really, and just saying ‘yes’ to everything that falls on your lap. Under the management of Wheezer Finlay, a.k.a The Wheeze, he knows where the line is, and he knows how to balance them well. How to walk away from a front cover, though the offer seems everything in their right mind appealing, and how to walk off from an important gig, when the people there don’t deem you worthy enough to even be there. He knows The Grams’ worth, and he dangles them on a string above the public, not low enough to sell themselves short, yet high enough so to have everyone craving for them left, right and centre.

Like every music-related story goes, Powder has the usual elements of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll. Thrown in the mix is the impending doom of time, mostly to do with the lead vocalist Keva McCluskey. Well aware that his clock is ticking away, Keva decided it was all or nothing for The Grams. Fuelled by some sort of a quarter-life crisis, he put all his faith in this giant leap, in hopes that it will help him find meaning in life again, but thread the dangerous expectation he puts in it, that it all may somehow blow up in his face, despite the heart and soul he invested in it.

Dramatism aside, Powder holds the key to everything someone needs to know when it comes to anything to do with a band, be it a manager, a record label, a publicist, and even the band themselves. How whatever you can dream of, can come true with the right sort of people involved and what sort of people you associate yourself with. How whatever you can dream of, can come true in a blink of an eye, and how it can also fall apart, at another whisk of the eyelash.