Right, everyone: it’s time for all your secrets to be aired. I’ve spent an entire year slaving my arse off to keep you lot on your toes, but Slayer’s recent show still sold out, and the metropolitan phonies in Bangalore continue to grow goatees at the ends of their chins, so all this has obviously not been a thumping success. But – in the spirit of lighting a little candle – I intend to go on trying to hammer the correct way of thinking into your unreceptive skulls, even if cool of any kind seems terminally beyond you.
To do this more effectively, I’ve decided to find out what sort of thing you people actually bother to read. So, I’ve gone through this site’s stats pages to find out for myself. I’ve also normalised page hits to the length of time they’ve been up, to remove time-bound biases. Yeah, okay, the formula was arbitrary and inconsistent, but so’s your face.
Most presumptuously, I’ve worked on the belief that, if someone’s clicked on a post, they’ve also actually read it from start to finish. I understand that’s too much to hope for, but a lad’s got to start somewhere.
Surprisingly, my year-old review of Adam & the Fish-Eyed Poets – one of the few real class acts to come out of this country – is still the most read, trailed closely by the first thing I ever wrote about the Shakey Rays. That a stillborn music scene like ours can throw up these neat little groups is a sign that, even if good taste may not win out in the end, it’ll at least not go away without a fuss.
On the flip side, there’s the piano-turntable-beard trio from hell who shocked me so much with their all-out rejection of everything that’s good in this world: that post is another chart-topper, and many a drooling sociopath has found it in himself to come to their defence since, which just goes to show that it takes all sorts.
Over the past six months, my second Ska Vengers gig review has been a steady outside-lane runner; likewise, the one in which I basically say that NME India is a little socialite game and not a serious magazine at all. It is the music scene equivalent of the kitty party and the tea-garden bridge club: if a flashy website were all it took to be a relevant purveyor of music reporting, then this country wouldn’t be the hopeless, directionless mess it is today.
Frank’s Got the Funk’s Got the Funk is a bit of a prima donna: that page goes quiet for ages, only to abruptly spring to life every full moon night or so. My post on the What’s the Scene’s Readers’ Choice List behaves that way too; I take it that metal-head sissies use it for their fortnightly group therapy sessions. I hope they’re all sleeping better now.
The only post which has truly dropped off the radar is the one on a gig I watched of an elderly bloke called Koch Shankar; this is because all of you are shallow flakes who’d rather hop trends than read something about an artist you’ve never heard about.
But, what these numbers ultimately tell us is this: you’re not all as illiterate as you look, and this site may just be worth the effort in the end. Moop City is now a year old and it’s still a joy doing it. Thanks for taking the trouble to read; without you guys, it would just be me raving to myself in an abandoned corner of the internet, and where’s the fun in that?