In what way does knowing an artist influence your relationship to their music?

September 29, 2023

I was asked this when I invited questions and topics to write about in future editions of this newsletter. It’s a really big and complicated question to get my head around in a lot of ways, although there is a very short and to the point answer too: immeasurably. Although I have relationships with artists that I work with in a professional capacity, and from there sometimes develop friendships with them rooted in our professional or creative connection, we all *know* artists to some degree, so I suspect that some of what I say here may be familiar to you. 

For me, context is important when listening to music - the more I know, the more I understand the music and grow to appreciate its nuances and quirks. Of course, sometimes I stumble upon a new band or hear a new release for the first time and I am gripped by the music, no context needed. Sometimes the music really does do all the talking. But as a publicist of fifteen years, I learned that relying on the music to do the talking was rarely enough. To get the attention of an editor, who in turn would want to get the attention of their prospective reader, context was important. A story, a vision, a hook - something that made this band tangibly different to every single other offering that had passed over their editorial desk that day. 

So even when I am ‘off-duty’, when I hear something that grabs my attention, I want to know more. My curiosity is piqued and I want to understand the artist more deeply: why did they make it this way? What is this song about? How did they make it sound like that? What drives them? What inspires them? When I stumble across a band that communicates well with all the tools that are available to them, I am impressed - and the publicist in me is dazzled.  Inviting us in and letting us know them as creatives helps form a bond between musician and listener, the beginnings of which may often be barely perceptible.  

Those bonds can be strengthened slowly over time, or swiftly - when something accelerates the connection. Seeing a band live is often a catalyst for a shift in the dynamic between artist and fan; to see them perform in person, to see the whites of their eyes, you get a better sense of who they are and what their intentions are. When the intensity of a vocal delivery exceeds the recorded equivalent, when the physicality of a performance becomes all consuming… the connection can be taken to the next level in a matter of minutes. 

So, when I am in the position to get to know artists on yet further levels - to talk to them one on one, to understand their hopes for their art, their passion for their music and the intentions of their projects - these conversations also shape the dynamic of the relationship I have with their music. Occasionally I am trusted with people’s deepest fears about their work, their vulnerabilities, and their greatest hopes. When those treasures are placed in my hands I feel a duty of care; I feel protective of these little gems that are part of the internal puzzle of a specific creative being. 

In a professional capacity, it can be difficult to find the right way to challenge people, to interrogate them about their purpose or intentions and to find a way to do it that is nurturing and done with care, rather than being confrontational or fuelled by disinterest or a lack of patience. Sometimes I say nothing, afraid to overstep a boundary, and other times I take the plunge, take the risk and take the relationship to somewhere new. 

I am driven by a desire to know and understand people (I think I get it from my mum). When someone behaves in a way that is unpleasant or difficult to deal with, I often find myself wondering why. When people make decisions that seem absolutely bonkers to everyone around them, I am compelled to know what led them there. And in less dramatic situations, I am just fascinated by the way that human beings exist around each other, and how they choose to interact with the world around them. Art is one of the most continually captivating tools with which people communicate with the rest of the world. They imbibe, they translate, they craft, they create, they curate, they shape, reshape, rework, process, contemplate, they look at things from many different angles, and then they offer up something for others to do with whatever they will. 

In my head, when contemplating this question, I thought I would just write about my relationship with Dawn Ray’d - a band that I worked with for several years, and love dearly. It seemed like a good segue to contextualise my relationship with them, and somewhat pay tribute to their art in light of their recent decision to part ways. In many ways you can simply take all of what I have said above and apply it to Dawn Ray’d - I have been through all of it with them. 

But of course, each relationship has its own shape and its own rhythm. I was on board with their mission from the beginning, their oeuvre could be summed up succinctly: anti-fascist black metal. Well, actually, they preferred anarchist black metal and we discussed the difference on multiple occasions. With no disrespect to their beliefs, I warned them that ‘anarchy’ wouldn’t be taken as seriously by the wider world, that it was often represented in a cartoonish fashion. But it meant a lot to them to use that word so we did. Thankfully we were able to laugh about it when articles adorned with Sex Pistols-esque typography followed. We leaned towards anti-fascist for a while after that within promotional copy, but eventually, on their last album, they found their way back to anarchy, this time though specifically anarcho-nihilism. 

Dawn Ray’d were very easy to love - as a band they had purpose and passion, and as individuals they were kind, gracious, curious and fun to be around. I believed in them as musicians, and I held hopes that they would continue to push their boundaries further still, that there was still more distance for them to cover. But ultimately, I care for them as humans, and therefore their decision to split is one that I respect. I confess that I shed a few tears, perhaps shamefully at least a few of them were because I felt that I personally had more still to achieve alongside them. 

And that too is a pitfall, to invest too heavily, to care too much and to want it more than the band. I fear I will always lean towards the ‘care too much’ side of things, and for the most part, I am at peace with that. For me, it’s a bigger crime to coldly commodify artistic endeavours than to love them with reckless, wild abandon. In writing this newsletter have had the smallest hint of what it must feel like to have others appreciate your artistic body of work. And within the minuscule scale within which I create, I know that encouragement and thoughtful feedback is a gift.

Anyway, I hope that has answered the question somewhat. I have many other meaningful experiences with artists woven throughout the years in which I have worked with music. I am a chronic over-thinker, so I spend a lot of time thinking about connections and creative encounters. I like to think I learn and take something from every such interaction, but of course, some are more profound than others. In the spirit of sharing music - which of course is a key propellant of Slowpoke - I have listed a few releases below that I have worked on or beside that have gained personal meaning for me. 

Bell Witch - Mirror Reaper

SubRosa - For This We Fought The Battle of Ages

Dawn Ray’d - To Know The Light

Svalbard - When I Die Will I Get Better

Woods of Ypres - Woods 5: Grey Skies and Electric Light

Sannhet - So Numb

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I am going to the Netherlands today to participate in the excellently named Vulvaverse festival! If you’re in Rotterdam this weekend, say hello or tell me where the best pastries are! 

~ Becky 

Photo below shows Dawn Ray’d shot by Jake Owens.