Paramore, The Grammy’s and The Lack of Female Acts in their Best Rock Album Category 

Written by Eszter Vida, edited by Millie Cain

Legendary rock trio Paramore took home the Grammy for Best Rock Album this past month, commemorating their lead singer-songwriter Hayley Williams as arguably the most influential frontwoman of our generation to pave the way for female rock singers thus far. Before their time, the likes of Alanis Morrissette, Sheryl Crow and No Doubt have also been associated with the award amongst a wider company of male musicians who’ve won and lost out on this achievement; this year, the list included Foo Fighters, Greta Van Fleet, Metallica and Queens of the Stone Age. While a commercialised, exclusive award show like The Grammy’s should never be taken seriously over well-researched academic musicologist unphased by the music industry politics that usually plays out at these ceremonies – it does provide us with some microscopic insight into how female acts are assessed in the eyes of the music industry and how these factors may be the leading factors into why despite an equal interest in music, there are 4 men signed to UK record labels for every one female (The Gender Gap study).

The Grammy’s never fail to surprise me with their growingly controversial choices in nominations. It clearly panders to some major record labels and industry figures more than others, which is possibly timely to mention that not long after receiving this award, Paramore declared themselves independent with a strong desire to have long careers in the music industry while shedding light on Independent Record Stores. Who exactly are we pandering to at these award shows?

Data from Music Venue Trust already outlines the disparity between major acts versus grassroots musicians and how the lack of funding has been punishing the fresh talent of the UK especially, making it harder for new acts to rise to the scene when it’s so financially difficult. Music is in an ideal world and its subjectivity would always come before business, but that’s a complex topic that impacts massively on who exactly gets to have their break, whether short-lived or partially sustained by vain titles that act as knighthoods for the music world. 

This leads me to my next point: is our definition of ‘rock’ inherently male-centric? For decades in popular music, women have not been considered worthy enough of being labelled as rock acts, likely due to their perceived image as more passive consumers and fangirls (Beatlemania, Directioners, Swifties) and often more associated with the inferior fabricated version – pop music. 

Popular music is too vast to be labelled in such a way. It has evolved so much since it boomed in the 1950s and its beauty as a genre is that it often breaks traditions, experimenting and becoming more adventurous with the influences that constitute what exactly it is. That is partially how over the years these sub-genres of past decades have been birthed from different music scenes. I am not saying that acts like Olivia Rodrigo should suddenly get placed into this category for their pop-punk inspired albums, but we should start to recognise that rock is no longer or has only falsely been claimed as a male-only zone of expression. 

First presented in 1995, the award has missed out on awarding some notable female figures: The Cranberries, Wolf Alice, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Wolf Alice, PJ Harvey, Florence and the Machine, Avril Lavigne, Le Tigre and Hurray for the Riff Raff just to remember a small handful. No doubt, This Is Why is worthy of this award. Paramore proved their legacy as a rock band when they produced an energetic, post-punk revival of their established sound, notably attempting to escape the label of a nostalgia band by going back to the sounds of William’s youth in the 2000s by the likes of Bloc Party. 

The label of frontwoman itself can be problematic on my part; why make her gender so apparent when she does the same job as any other lead singer of a band? But her activism has always been clear and for that, Williams achieves the standards of the rebelliousness that rock should be about without being tokenistic in their sound or trying to cosplay as anything other than their authentic selves. That should be one of the qualifying factors of rock, if there were any major ones to begin with, as a genre of defiance that has shapeshifted over time. Their career is not short-lived and the hype around them will not just die once their members turn past the age of being accepted as musicians with the freedom to produce original albums. 

Depeche Mode bring Memento Mori to Manchester

Written by Eszter Vida, edited by Millie Cain

After a fascinating and expectedly dark comeback with their 14th album Memento Mori as well as a period of lament over the passing of keyboardist Andy Fletcher; Dave Gahan and Martin Gore prove they are still the biggest alternative synth-pop duo that the 1980s new wave scene ever produced. Contrary to the statement behind their album’s title, translated as ‘remember you must die’, Depeche Mode also remember their history as a group, playing a setlist that only strengthens their musical legacy for their diverse range of fans.

I attended the concert with my older brother, with whom our formative musical worlds as two very different musicians were deeply influenced by the group’s ominous sounds and flamboyant dancing, courtesy of a great frontman like Gahan. For me, they have always been a band close to home, having blasted the entirety of Black Celebration during late night road-trips, or better put, carpool concerts as well as receiving Facebook birthday posts from my parents, who would then tag the song ‘Little 15’ to match the appropriate age I was turning. This band has penetrated my upbringing in all sorts of ways. 

Before I was even born, their music connected my Hungarian parents, going to the same new wave club nights where they eventually met one another at the local youth disco ‘Petofi Csarnok’ in 1980s Budapest. Due to the Soviet’s censorship laws preventing Western music entering the borders of Hungary, the 1980s new wave scene was a glimpse at liberation, with Depeche Mode trailblazing as the kings of the genre. People like my parents were desperate to get their hands on catching up with the new romantic trends of rock and synth-pop. In short, Depeche Mode became one of these symbols of freedom for the 80s youth. There is now even a bar called ‘101 Klub’ dedicated to the legacy of fan clubs that were set up for the band, with the current owner being a long-time friend of my dad’s (great for discounted pints, but not that you’d need that when visiting Eastern Europe). 

You might say I’ve always had a ‘Strangelove’ for them, or that it was inherited by blood to listen to them. Therefore, after seeing their other contemporaries such as OMD, New Order and The Cure live with my family, to finally see them live was a full circle moment. We got there in time to catch the support Nadine Shah, a set that felt fitting for a support with the lead singer’s sultry and enchanting stage presence. As frontman Dave Gahan took to the stage, the entire room resonated upon the first note he sang; it was genuinely incredible.

Despite not being the most vocally trained singer, his voice is so distinct that it really wouldn’t be Depeche Mode without him. There is always a tone of surrender and carpe diem in their music and these messages that progressed throughout the decades are aptly depicted from the extravagances set up on stage. The looming M as their stage design acted almost as a Big Brother of their discography, as they took us through all their different eras. Embellishing the rest of the display was the dual synthesisers and drums, the only instruments arguably necessary.

The breadth of talent and artistic albums they had produced over their career is astounding to keep up with. Whether it’s the early refreshing sounds of synth-pop with Speak and Spell, my personal favourite dark ambience of Black Celebration or the heavy grungier Ultra, Depeche Mode are the producer’s musician and pioneers in the age of the synthesiser. 

Ironically, I hadn’t really considered just how dark yet strangely versatile all of Depeche Mode’s songs are. Martin Gore’s solo moment singing ‘Somebody’ brought a tear to my eye. For a band that’s so disguised by flashy synths, this and the special stripped back rendition of ‘Strangelove’ bore so much vulnerability and pure emotion. This also includes the remaining member’s duet of ‘Waiting for the Night’, (pictured above) as they extend their intimacy by reaching for the hands of their fans and connection. 
The fun in Depeche Mode is that they will always carry a legacy that represents experimentation and artistic freedom. The indescribable feeling of singing ‘Enjoy The Silence’ together with thousands of other people is unmatched, transporting us back a decade that will forever be remembered as one the synth-pioneering band ruled and continue to rule beyond.

Industry Plants – How the term damages the resurgence of female fronted rock bands like The Last Dinner Party 

Written by Eszter Vida, edited by Millie Cain

Industry plants: artists that music nerds love to hate and point out within seconds of hearing new bands that break through unexpectedly. Arguably, London-based indie rock band The Last Dinner Party became the centre of new music hype as well as a lot of unwarranted criticism for their unanticipated success, along with other bands like Manchester’s Picture Parlour and in the past, even Wet Leg. The key theme of these accusations? They’re somehow always women.

It’s no surprise why the average listener would accuse the music industry of wanting to take advantage of this gap in the market and creating what they would recognise as ornaments of progressiveness in the music industry. Female fronted bands barely scrape the line-up for traditional rock festivals and there’s no doubt always been a gender gap in the industry.

(Image Credit: Eszter Vida)

But I think it’s important to remain nuanced when approaching conversations on industry plants and consider the geographical and economic factors on whether a band makes it beyond a local status. It’s mutually agreed that since most record labels have always been based in London or getting your foot in the door would rely upon a complex network of connections or nepotism, a band like The Last Dinner Party may have been gifted the advantage of finding themselves in the music scene’s capital. Arguably, if you want to pass this judgement towards someone more suitable, there are surely other male indie rock bands with famous dads that wear shades and like to forefront themselves on social issues and equality; that is if the nepotism label sabotages your ability to simply enjoy music that much. 

I managed to catch The Last Dinner Party at Live at Leeds this past October. What I saw was not a plastically manufactured line up of industry puppets that were jumping to sell you corporate messaging and to fill their own pockets, but rather a band with a sisterhood quality, incredible talent and clever aesthetically pleasing image. The band present themselves as some fantastical quintet, catering to the girls who want to live out the romance of a pastoral renaissance novel, in the backdrop of living in our confusing modern world. They are certainly not ornaments for anyone’s gaze, except for the audiences they have since captivated. 

Lead singer Abigail floated around elegantly in her white Austen-esque dress, addressing the crowd like the host of a dinner party eponymously as she released guttural screams in ‘My Lady of Mercy’, among the presence of roaring guitars and booming synths. I personally sense a lot of influence from the likes of Siouxsie Sioux, Patti Smith and Stevie Nicks: all veteran trailblazing female figures. What defines their image should not be that they’re all 5 women-presenting musicians but that they are truly a group that work in harmony and greatness. In alignment of this, it was extraordinary to see them tone their set down by way of singing a choral chant and was empowering to experience live.

The Last Dinner Party have been formulating this image as early as 2021, judging from the beginning of their Instagram account. They themselves have come to defend their origins as 18-year-olds who met during freshers week and got signed, as any university band ever dreams. I was quite shocked to learn that back in 2022, they were even on the line up to play alongside Northwest local acts like Seb Lowe and Pixey on the smallest stage of my hometown’s festival Neighbourhood Weekender in Warrington before I had even learned of their existence. For female artists, constructing an identity to prove their relevance and the pressure to have outstanding marketing has somehow survived as this unkillable shadow since 1950s girl groups have been around to be recorded and exploited by greedy music bosses. I’d like to think that we are beyond the age of female passivity.

I’m relieved when bands like these women break into the mainstream. Whether you believe they are industry plants or marketing geniuses, one thing is true that the image of the band is beyond captivating. You shouldn’t leave their gig or finish enjoying their music by saying ‘I didn’t expect them to be THAT good’ or promote them later how ‘they ACTUALLY sounded decent’. Nails can be heard on distant chalkboards when I hear someone’s preconceived judgments; they are sadly not welcome into both band’s expanding musical worlds that should be treated with patience if you’re expecting some longevity. That’s the true renaissance of female acts in a male-dominated genre of rock.

INTERVIEW: The Murder Capital on their New Single – “It’s just what we were going through”

Written by Eszter Vida
Edited by Eve Moat

Irish post-punk band The Murder Capital have been soaring to new heights with the release of their newest single ‘Heart in the Hole’, having just played on 8th November at Project House in Leeds. I had the pleasure of interviewing bass player Gab, who delivered plenty of personal anecdotes from shenanigans on tour away from Dublin, their connection with the Leeds music scene with a bit of love and appreciation shown towards a new fan of theirs, Cillian Murphy.

How’s life on the road treating you all? Any habits to cure homesickness? 

We have been doing great and have been fortunate to experience so many seasons in so little time – crisp winter in Sweden and sunny late summer in Spain. I love the acknowledgment of the homesickness though. It’s hard for the people we’re closest to, to be away so much. It’s a sacrifice on both ends. 

Obviously, touring is very ‘gig and go’, but have you seen any sights so far? 

I saw a man do keepie-uppies while hanging from a lamp post up outside the Sacré Cœur Basilica in Paris, just before we played at La Cigale. It’s a feat of athleticism I don’t think I’ve seen matched even at actual football games. 

Any pre-gig rituals? 

The only thing that we do every show is get in a huddle. It grounds us and helps remind us that no matter where we are we, it’s just the 5 of us on the stage and that’s where the home is for the next wee while. Damian does some skipping as well. That’s not really a ritual though; it’s to get his heart rate up to match the intensity it’s at during the show. He’s a fit man. A big strong boy. 

Who’s been your favourite band to tour with so far?

We’ve loved any opportunity we’ve had to perform before IDLES. They are always incredibly good to us. When we supported them in Electric Ballroom, it was the first time we had a crowd that big in front of us and felt like “oh, so doing this and getting a big crowd is possible.” I had also seen Bowen backstage with his new-born baby and thought “oh, you can do this and still have a family.” Being around the IDLES men for an evening has been a great encourager and focuser for us. 

Favourite venue to play in Leeds?

My favourite in Leeds and one of my favourite venues in the world is the Brudenell Social Club. I’ll never forget the first day we got there. Nathan has always just been so supportive to us in his own quiet way. We wouldn’t be where we are without people like Nathan.

Do you have any personal anecdotes to how you formed as a band?

We used to march around Dublin doing karaoke in The Workman’s Club or Whelan’s together; next thing I knew, I had a bass guitar in my hands playing ‘More Is Less’ in the Other Voices tent at Electric Picnic in 2018. The rest is history in the making. The past two albums have just been us expressing how we had been feeling through music in a way that was clearer than how we spoke. I think that’s why we all started playing music in the first place. 

My favourite quote from you is one I found from a Fred Perry fashion article where you claim your style is ‘Hungover Cillian Murphy’.

Ahahaha, I remember us writing that vividly. Since then, we’ve had the opportunity to meet the man himself and shake hands one afternoon in the Irish Museum of Modern Art. He’s a fan of ours as we are of his. It was nice to hear him say our name and play our tune on his BBC 6 Music radio show as well. It’s good for the young people of Ireland to have a man like Cillian to look up to as someone who has achieved so much success through a masterful grasp of a craft. But if I had to give another triple fócal summary of our collective style, I’d say we’ve evolved into Simone Rocha Cowboys. 

What was the moment you felt like you truly evolved from being a local band?

I don’t think that feeling truly came until we played Glastonbury. Especially because we were booked for it, and it never happened in 2019. I’ve always had a bit of imposter syndrome being in the band as we’ve grown. It’s been hard to admit to myself that this really is what we do, maybe because we’re still fresh. Playing KEXP in Seattle was a moment like that too. Since I was sixteen, I felt like playing that radio station kind of meant that you were a real band or act or whatever. 

What do you think is the line for artists writing with political intent?

If you’re choosing political themes that you have no experience or understanding of, for the sole purpose of getting eyes on the band, I’m not sure that’s the best place to start. Lyrics can also be innately fictional, like in literature. Becoming a voice for other people can silence or dampen the voices of those who have went through the suffering first hand. 

Any favourite moments from the ‘Heart in the Hole’ music video while filming in Dublin?

Just to be working with Charlie again is something I do not take for granted. I feel like he has such accuracy when telling a story about The Murder Capital and sees us how we are The video feels quite light-hearted, contrasting to some of the heavier topics. I think the video was a snapshot of who we are now, draped to the backdrop of Dublin, where the band began; a good place that is conscious of all the work and life that had to happen to get us here. 

The Murder Capital will be back in Leeds in no time, I’m sure!