Why is it the only time I ever hear about this band is when their name’s attached to some product or gimmick?
Cheap wine, logo’d tekkies, KFC kiddies meals… and now 3D.
Before the fans start shouting that U2 did it first, it must be noted that the producers of U23D approached the band after initially planning to 3D-ifise American Football. They couldn’t get hold of the band’s manager, Paul McGuinness, and punted the idea to Catherine Owens, the group’s art director since 1992.
According to U2 bassist, Adam Clayton, the band didn’t want to do another concert film (along the lines of 2001’s ‘All Access’), but Owens “pushed it down [their] throats”.
But it was Bono who convinced them to do it. Interested in the project purely as a technological experiment because, let’s be honest, they don’t need the money.
Maybe it’s fitting that the Parlotones, three years later, are following. They sound just like the Killers, they wear make-up just like the teenagers in A Clockwork Orange, and now they’re making a 3D movie just like U2.
Aside from the fact that they’re perpetuating the eventual zombification of South Africa (See ‘I warned you about that 3D TV’), I find the crassness of the whole thing offensive.
Shouldn’t the music speak for itself? Shouldn’t your talent be what gets attention?
You can’t blame them. It’s not their fault that these days we only notice something if it’s shoved in our faces, below a Coke or Nike logo. And if selling out is the only way one can make money through their passion, who is anyone to judge?
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Showing posts with label Parlotones. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Parlotones. Show all posts
Lace Up, Order In, Sell Out
As if a KFC snackbox wasn’t nauseating enough, the other day I came across a bottle of Parlotones wine. It was rose’, a wine much like their music – produced to appeal to the largest slice of an undiscerning demographic.
The week before at the cinema I was subjected to a 3D music video by none other than the Parlotones – an Olympian leap onto an already groaning bandwagon.
(Honestly, what’s next, 3D Antiques Roadshow?)
And the week before that, in the esteemed publication Heat (SA’s only weekly glossy), I couldn’t help feeling my bowels quake at the sight of a sidebar laughing at a new shoe on the market complete with a little Parlotones logo stitched into the side. The header was something droll – “Step into the Parlotones’ shoes”.
Now I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan. Even though I bought a Parlotones cd the other month for R80 I haven’t got past the first thirty seconds of the opening track because it’s just so annoying – the kind of wimpy commercial rock that could only appeal to upper-middle class white girls from Herschel. And I have to admit I fucking hate the Clockwork Orange eyeliner. So this is clearly not an objective opinion, but I don’t think anyone could reasonably disagree with the statement that the Parlotones are massive sell-outs.
(Upon writing, it has been brought to my attention a limited edition {only 5 million produced} Parlotones laptop is available… for fuck’s sake!)
Then I got to thinking about the fine line between art and commercially-produced stool-samples, its success based purely on the scope of appeal. Are television ads for McDonald’s or Mr Price modelling shoots considered art?
And then I got to thinking that maybe the Parlotones don’t consider themselves artists at all but merely entertainers or more specifically a brand. If they are only, unashamedly, in it for the money then is there anything wrong with branding their logo on anything from Pick ‘n Pay milkshakes to kwaai hubcaps?
Not at all, I suppose, as long as they don’t expect us to regard them as anything more than whores willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder.
And still then I got to thinking that if it was me being offered large sums of money to promote KFC or some shoe company would I turn it down or would I sell my creativity to the Devil (because make no mistake, Colonel Sanders is the Antichrist) (and make no further mistake, your creativity is your soul)?
I would love to say of course I wouldn’t be such a hack, but how could I know unless I’ve been in that situation?
I suppose that even rock stars need you eat – man cannot live on barely-legal groupie-sex alone – so maybe getting a fast food company to sponsor species-36 burgers for life or a clothing manufacturer making sure you don’t run around like a rural farm kid for a year or so isn’t that bad. Who am I to judge?
It might lose them respect, but I’m sure it gets them paid and laid.
However, I can’t help thinking that in the long run it’s a bad idea, because when the tennis-tekkies are worn out and the fingers licked clean what will they have left?
So cheers to the Parlotones’ no doubt forthcoming Christmas album – who needs credibility when you’ve got money?
The week before at the cinema I was subjected to a 3D music video by none other than the Parlotones – an Olympian leap onto an already groaning bandwagon.
(Honestly, what’s next, 3D Antiques Roadshow?)
And the week before that, in the esteemed publication Heat (SA’s only weekly glossy), I couldn’t help feeling my bowels quake at the sight of a sidebar laughing at a new shoe on the market complete with a little Parlotones logo stitched into the side. The header was something droll – “Step into the Parlotones’ shoes”.
Now I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan. Even though I bought a Parlotones cd the other month for R80 I haven’t got past the first thirty seconds of the opening track because it’s just so annoying – the kind of wimpy commercial rock that could only appeal to upper-middle class white girls from Herschel. And I have to admit I fucking hate the Clockwork Orange eyeliner. So this is clearly not an objective opinion, but I don’t think anyone could reasonably disagree with the statement that the Parlotones are massive sell-outs.
(Upon writing, it has been brought to my attention a limited edition {only 5 million produced} Parlotones laptop is available… for fuck’s sake!)
Then I got to thinking about the fine line between art and commercially-produced stool-samples, its success based purely on the scope of appeal. Are television ads for McDonald’s or Mr Price modelling shoots considered art?
And then I got to thinking that maybe the Parlotones don’t consider themselves artists at all but merely entertainers or more specifically a brand. If they are only, unashamedly, in it for the money then is there anything wrong with branding their logo on anything from Pick ‘n Pay milkshakes to kwaai hubcaps?
Not at all, I suppose, as long as they don’t expect us to regard them as anything more than whores willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder.
And still then I got to thinking that if it was me being offered large sums of money to promote KFC or some shoe company would I turn it down or would I sell my creativity to the Devil (because make no mistake, Colonel Sanders is the Antichrist) (and make no further mistake, your creativity is your soul)?
I would love to say of course I wouldn’t be such a hack, but how could I know unless I’ve been in that situation?
I suppose that even rock stars need you eat – man cannot live on barely-legal groupie-sex alone – so maybe getting a fast food company to sponsor species-36 burgers for life or a clothing manufacturer making sure you don’t run around like a rural farm kid for a year or so isn’t that bad. Who am I to judge?
It might lose them respect, but I’m sure it gets them paid and laid.
However, I can’t help thinking that in the long run it’s a bad idea, because when the tennis-tekkies are worn out and the fingers licked clean what will they have left?
So cheers to the Parlotones’ no doubt forthcoming Christmas album – who needs credibility when you’ve got money?
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