Capítulo II: Marcos Conceptuales Vigentes
II.3 Diferencias y semejanzas entre los MC vigentes
Being a music photographer is not as glamorous as the appeal suggests. On regular basis, you will find yourself battling elbows with unforgiving media photographers for a few inches of extra space. In smaller indoor spaces, you’d navigate amidst a stormy sea of sweaty strangers in the merciless mosh pit while precariously balancing your RM20,000 worth of fragile camera gear. And all these are for? The heavy pressure of capturing fleeting moments of a band, the fans and the event.
It tougher when you are a fan who is also a photographer and a professional at the same time, however, on the flip side, it’s also advantageous to merge all the above into one, as only an avid fan truly knows the product and subject, so to speak.
To me, photography is not just about shooting it well, but also shooting it the right way. It has a lot to do with participation, preparation, and anticipation. You participate by buying the music and reading through the lyrics to understand the artist better. You prepare by remembering the verses and choruses of their songs, as well as the stage lightings set- up so that you can capture aesthetically good, memorable moments. You anticipate by knowing when the bassist will jump during the band’s
performance, or at which beat, which line of a chorus will the frontman scream in utter euphoria. Most importantly, you need to have the foresight on where the next photographic moment will take place. Everything is in the details as a good photograph is already half made even before the shutter clicks.
At it doesn’t end there. There’s also photojournalistic captures beyond live shows.
How do you shoot a group portrait of musicians or a singer-songwriter in her favourite private space? What about that light-hearted and candid moments between the artiste, composer and producer during recording sessions at a studio or random going-ons backstage after a concert or the roadtrip in a beat up van for a show up North in godknowswhere? To find a story to tell in places that are often overlooked is by far one of the most difficult yet crucial tasks of a good photographer.
As demanding, unprofitable and exhausting as it may be, there is in fact much more to gain from this less travelled road. It’s by far one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever taken part in my life. You play the part of a passionate fanboy, immortalise moments in pictures forever, befriend and hang out with truly inspiring people, and (sometimes) get paid at the end of it. A pretty sweet deal, I must say.
Although my venture into music photography was rather brief, it was a whirlwind of back-breaking, hair-raising, ear-splitting, solid three years of great times. And thankfully, it wasn’t only confined within the boundaries of the independent band and singer-songwriter circle.
I was lucky enough to be given the opportunity to document almost the entire spectrum of the local music industry; from bands to DJs to singer- songwriters, small gigs to massive music festivals, modest indie set-ups to major mainstream award shows, local and international acts (with Paramore being the last overseas artiste photographed in late 2010) while spanning a variety of genres, and the many faces of unsung heroes – the organisers, the managers, the crew, and of course, the fans.
Not forgetting club gigs with visiting DJs from around the region (a memorable one being DJ Rocky Rock, the official DJ for Black Eyed Peas) spinning booty-shaking-friendly tunes and accompanied by dancers invited from the far Orient who resembles the Wondergirls on crack, with
far, far less clothing, dancing in cages and spinning around stripper poles. There was also a sado-masochism theme night, master-slave, leather and whips and all that jazz, which, by the way, happened to be my first day on the job as a full-time photographer.
“Only take photos of hot girls. Take lots of ‘em. And don’t forget the DJs,” said the boss, what still stands as the single best instruction from the powers-that-be that I’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving. I tend to digress past midnight and it’s 4.28am, anyway, that’s a story for another day. Rewinding back, my first most vivid memory of music-photographer- coming-of-age, for lack of a cornier phrase, was back in mid-2008 at Laundry Bar while freelancing with Chaswood (which included other performance spaces like The Apartment and Republic Bar.)
The photos I took that night turned out to be absolute shit (you win some, you lose some) but it didn’t matter since the event itself was superb. Performing that night was Bunkface, Oh Chentaku and none other than living legends, Butterfingers, and what a glorious night it was.
Bunkface was still innocent newbies, yet to explode into the scene with their seminal hit single “Situasi.” Oh Chentaku were gig veterans with a rabid following and incredible performers to boot. Who could forget the frontman and lead guitarist Myo’s 360-degree guitar spins?
And then there was the mighty Butterfingers to close the night. It was my first close encounter with a band I worshiped (short of building a shrine to give daily thanks to Dear Leader) and one that I quite literally grew up with since I was this snotty, pimpled-face 13 year old. I remember myself sprawling on the stage frantically shooting away Emmett, who was only a slap away, thinking “Dude, I still have your ‘98 Butterworth Pushful’ cassette.” Which I later eventually said to him, and this celebrity of epic proportions, this rock god of our garden city of lights, inexplicably blushed and muttered an almost shy “thank you.” His wife, Terrina then later remarked, “don’t fret, he’s completely oblivious to his fame. It happens all the time.”
I was floored. Not so much because I finally get to meet a long time idol, but how human he seems. While I did more work for them and given the opportunity (thanks to Loque’s wife Dahlia and Terrina) to photograph their historic farewell concert at Istana Budaya the following year, I learnt
even more that this man is just a regular – although incredibly talented – guy. And I’m glad to say it’s an endearing quality that I find in everyone that I’ve met in our quaint little scene. Humble, gracious and genuinely passionate about what they do. It has been a constant source of inspiration, the never-say-die attitude, hard work, sacrifice and dedication the artistes, managers, crew, and the rest put into their craft. Regardless of who or what they are, (pretty much) everyone is comrade-in-arms and rebels of the same cause. As someone wise fittingly wrote, “we are not an association, we are a community.” The camaraderie within the scene is truly inspiring. Something that – sad to say – is often lost in the materialist rat race of the wider capitalist community.
It is this spirit that must always be remembered; of people coming together for a single cause, of collective celebration of joy, and our innate capacity to create artistic expressions of beauty, meaning and purpose. As Robert E. Lee aptly puts:
“In spite of failures which I lament, of errors which I now see and acknowledge, or of the present aspect of affairs, do I despair the future? The truth is this: the march of Providence is so slow, our desires so impatient, the work of progress is so immense, and our means of aiding it so feeble, the life of humanity is so long, that of the individual so brief, that we often see only the ebb of the advancing wave and are thus discouraged. It is history that teaches us to hope.”
I deeply believe in the importance of music documentation, be it in photographic or video form (notable mention goes to fellow friends and comrades Ahmad Faris and Zul Luey who have been working on the episodic rockumentary Tapau – a local adaptation of Vincent Moon’s critically acclaimed La Blogotheque show – and the brilliant music videos they create, culminating with the recent AIM18 award for Best Music Video for Aizat Amdan’s “Susun Silang Kata.” It’s important that such moments are spoken of and documented and remembered. Moments like pre-breakout Yuna crooning the still-raw “Deeper Conversation” at No Black Tie, heroes of yesteryears Amy Search and Republic of Brickfields onstage together, Noh and Lan fronting the two biggest bands then – Hujan and Meet Uncle Hussain – banding together at the peak of “Lagu Untukmu” live at the epic closing of AIM16, Meet Uncle Hussain’s watershed farewell-to-Lan showcase at Hard Rock Café and the very last photo of their original line-up, pre-
Brushfire Zee Avi back when she was still known as KokoKaina at the now
mindblowing collaboration with Nyoba Kan at the annual Urbanscapes arts festival, OAG’s final unplugged showcase at Istana Budaya, One Buck Short’s then bassist Izal crowdsurfing in majestic fashion on thousands of fans way past the staging barriers at Rock The World 2009 and the long list goes on.
What a beautiful sight to witness, wedged in that space between fans crushing the barricades, colliding bodies in the whirling mosh pit, singing along in complete rapture, and the artiste, the band, swooning in serene joy, drums crashing, guitar “raping”, exploding in chorus crescendo. Like a foot soldier in a trench between two wars of the utmost beautiful kind, two episodes of a heartwarming story, two lovers stuck in that Twilight Zone limbo of post-quarrel and pre-make up sex. And yes, it’s orgasmic.
I was a witness to these moments, and more. I was both creator and participator, detached yet connected at the same time. I was a part of it but standing apart, invisible yet known. An enlightening dissonance, a unique dichotomy, one might say. Though it should be known that the photographer and the camera are only mediums by which these moments are immortalized and passed on for all the rest to bear witness. Susan Sontag, the late art critic (and famed celebrity photographer Annie Leibovitz’s lover) amusingly captures the idea of imaging and the position of the artist as merely a vessel in her 1977 collection of essays titled On
Photography:
“...the very question of whether photography is or is not an art is essentially a misleading one. Although photography generates works that can be called art – it requires subjectivity, it can lie, it gives aesthetic pleasure – photography is not, to begin with, an art form at all. Like language, it is a medium in which works of art (among other things) are made. Out of language, one can make scientific discourse, bureaucratic memoranda, love letters, grocery lists, and Balzac’s Paris. Out of photography, one can make passport pictures, weather photographs, pornographic pictures, X-rays, wedding pictures, and Atget’s Paris.”
As cliché as it may sound, what she said was very true – a picture preserves a passing moment for all eternity (or till your external HDD decides to die in a silent whimper, a heartbreaking pain to which I’ve had the unfortunate privilege to experience and yet to fully recover till today.)
In a rather poetic way to put it, photographs do not create art but instead pays homage to works of art. And in light of our burgeoning music scene and its immortalized visuals, it documents the story of how it began, where it is today, and a means by which to fondly time travel in reminiscence of the good ol’ days. Nevertheless, the visual portrayal of music is merely part of a larger chronicle, both of which – sounds and sight – tell stories, though in different ways. Sontag goes on to say:
“What do we have from the past? Art and thought. That’s what lasts. That’s what continues to feed people and give them an idea of something better.” Art is the identity of a nation as well as its culture and the expression of its passion. Who are we? What does a Malaysian song sound like? How does it move and in what way? What does it look like? There need not be an absolute, final answer. What matters more is the journey towards unity and piecing together this fragmented creative landscape we have today. A rallying call, one might say, that Loque is constantly striving for to ignite “a Malaysian Renaissance.” Perfectly encapsulated in Monoloque’s debut album Jejak Tanah, it’s a call to arms for all in search of our identity and the preservation of our passions and cultural roots. In the opening lines of “Batu Belah Batu Konkrit” classic songstress Azlina Aziz hauntingly sings “wahai anandaku sayang, ke mana hilang budaya?” telling the story of a lost sense of self and long forgotten tales. And there are some stories that we must never forget.
So, what stories have I crafted these past brief years? Let me rephrase that —what stories have I found and captured? What do my images, and those of others, talk about? What do they speak of? Why, immortality, of course. In the same way why stars are beautiful, looking at a still photo is looking at the past. It’s a constant reminder of a passing time, an instant long gone. Photography captures the death of a moment and gives a sobering reminder that the end is nigh. Everything becomes that much more meaningful because it is doomed. Thanks to the advances of science and technology, it has become easier today to preserve such precious memories and stories, and the first time in the history of humanity that we are accorded with such a gift. “The only reason I want to meet Shakespeare or might even want to is because I can meet him anytime. Because he is immortal in the works he’s left behind,” said the polemecist Christopher Hitchens, who ironically is going through the final chapter of his life, battling a terminal stage IV esophageal cancer.
Oftentimes, expressions of an art form – be it a song, an album cover, a music video, a picture of a band mid-show on stage – need not be neither complex nor deep. Sometimes, it is simply memorable. Moving. Powerful. Poignant. Beautiful. And sometimes, that’s all there is to it.
This chapter marks the death of my brief career as a music photographer, but the images captured will live on. Before, I wrote with light. Today, I write these words. This is my testament to what I’ve witnessed. This is my homage to life, art, music, and all those beautiful events and people I’ve had the privilege to meet in that wonderful episode in time.
It’s 6.21am and near sunrise. Time to revisit the past back to 1998, to when I first learnt this song from a late friend, Adyz Adrin, who passed away a year later:
Where’s the thing call beautiful I don’t think it’s wonderful Just to fake it ain’t so sweet
Ain’t so numb and its not because of me If I take it all for granted
I would spread word through the pieces Do you think it all screwed up
David was the guitarist for the band Disagree from the beginning of 2006 up until early 2011. He has also performed with the likes of Zee Avi, Rendra Zawawi, and many more.