Against professionalism: music sounds better with mistakes

Back in those long-ago, low level-miserable days when I worked in an office, among all the managerial wonk-speak one phrase that used to crop up quite often was, "That's not professional". Nope, they're no good. They lack professionalism. They're a bit rubbish. Not like us. Not like me. Yeah, I think I said it myself a few times. One of the minor evils of this kind of work is that you find yourself unconsciously using the language of middle-management even as another part of you (your better self?) is faintly nauseated by it. But no, professionalism is officially valorised in the middle-class workplace. And, of course, anything esteemed in your typical white-collar job is probably also taken up in the wider language. And so it is, I reckon, that some bands get praised for their "professionalism" while others get put down for their amateurishness. Being a "tight" band (ie well-practiced) has long been held up as a good thing in music and - of course - there's nothing wrong with being able to play your own songs with a sort of effortless ease and assurance. Fine. Up to a point. Because I often find so-called professionalism a turn-off with a lot of art (in fact a lot of life ...) and this most definitely applies to music. At the risk of sounding contrary for the sake of being contrary (never!), artists who seem a bit "amateur" are often charming precisely because of this. People who sing off-key, who almost sound like they can't keep a regular beat on the drums, who play bum notes, who stutter or break down mid-song. These "faults" are often what's best about their stuff. Or at least it's what puts the grit in the oyster. Buzzcocks' famous Spiral Scratch EP is great because of the way that everything sounds a bit wrong - the "blown-out" guitar amp sound, the jittery drumming, Devoto's too-high-pitched vocals, the way Shelley's backing vocals seem to barge abruptly into the mix. It might have been produced by the revered Martin Hannett but it also sounds like a (triumphant) bodge job. A few years ago I saw Anna McLellan doing a small gig in New York. My partner's response was, "But she can't even sing!" I dunno, maybe she can't (technically) but I honestly don't care. It sounded great to me. Truly memorable in fact (I'm a sucker for this kind of fragile, wavery soprano-type voice). Another band who can come across as quite "amateur hour" are Manchester's All Girls Arson Club. 

Even this photo is out of focus: All Girls Arson Club keeping it real in Sheffield

It's true AGAC joke around a lot when they play, which isn't advisable if you want to project a super-together and slick image. Their rudimentary drumming, little squalls of guitar noise and double-voiced vocals can - and undoubtledly do - emit some slightly ramshackle vibes. But what's wrong with being ramshackle? If there are moments of excitement or beauty or whatever in amongst the (apparent) chaos, that's surely good enough, no? Anyway, to my mind All Girls Arson Club have a good mix of lo-fi rock excitement and little moments of wry tenderness (check out Ryan, for example). One of AGAC's lyrics includes the line "I'm tepid at best" and that's pretty much exactly how I think a lot of "well-produced", "professional" music actually sounds. No, it's time to reclaim amateur hour and celebrate the non-professional. And that, dear reader, is that. That's my argument in this blog. And if you don't like it, don't agree with it and think I'm an unprofessional idiot who knows very little about music, so be it. Yep, I'll be unprofessional to my dying day and almost certainly have a very unprofessional funeral. They'll be trying to play those three "all time favourite" pieces of music they always have on in the crematorium as the coffin goes into the furnace, and the CD will start skipping ...