Complaining about stuff can be good for you.
Being a hater has its benefits. Just ask Italians.
I want to say something about how much I love haters. Of course this has caveats, but all my favourite people are incredible bitch-fest contributors, and the best maintain a levity like skipping stones across dark water. They can submerge fully into the mire of negativity and downright hatred and emerge gracefully, dancing onto some other topic, full of life and enthusiasm for some other thing. The point is that they’re whole, articulate people, who appreciate stuff and talk about it all passionately. They’re not purely haters, they just embrace it as a necessary side of a lust for life.
I grew up half-Italian and feel like complaining about stuff is about 70% of the Italian mindset.
Most of my childhood was spent hanging around my dad’s family as they complained. Nothing is too small or unimportant to be complained about for Italians. Intimate subjects can be more guarded, but the general rule seems to be that whatever is most loved and valued is also the most criticised. Food and Family being the obvious targets.
Have you ever listened to somebody complain about Mandarins being too dry for over an hour? I have. And you better believe the complaint contained a history of the mandarin’s origin as part of the citrus family (or something, I admit I was not fully listening), which were bred from China (I think), and an explanation of why this particular hybrid variant of Mandarin, that I bought on a whim, should never have been sold at that time of year, because they are never good at this time of year, complete with a scathing takedown of my gullibility for having bought them for too much. All this to arrive at the fundamental truth: that the grocer selling the mandarins had been going downhill for a while now. Oh, the disappointment.
The thing is, complaining usually comes from a place of caring about the thing and wanting it to be better. Holding something small, like a mandarin, to a high standard, is a way to say you hold all of life to a high standard, like saying I want this to be as good as I know it can be. Lately I’ve come back around to complaining as my cultural inheritance after a few years of framing it as toxic, ‘negative vibes’ and so on. I now see it as one groove of a record, a way of being in the world that’s as legitimate as the more altruistic codes I once compared it to.
I grew up in Australia where Be-Nice culture was ingrained. The maxim when I was a kid was “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” I mean, that’s fine. There are moments where it’s strategic to say nothing. But I want to point out that if Italians followed this, Italy would be a very quiet place and probably not the vibrant cultural touchstone we know it as. Abiding by stoic good manners can keep you from expression altogether. Why be pent up when you can just be real?
I really liked this video that Ben Lee did recently about how being a hater is actually good for artists:
I reckon he’s touching a nerve here for Aussie musicians. It’s drummed into us to be down to earth, which also has some implied jingoistic expectations (you’re either with us or against us), and an aversion to criticism from the inside (it’s like the backsplash for tall-poppy syndrome). It’s a small industry and a small market so the approach is you can’t afford to make any enemies. And it stops us from saying how we really feel about lots of stuff.
Ben is talking more broadly about the art of complaining and hating as keys to your work, which of course doesn’t have to be about people, or music, it could be about anything. And it doesn’t have to be about elevating disgust, it’s more about folding it into the emotional mixture of your work in the right amounts.
In therapy speak: it’s about equanimity.
I remember when The Preatures started breaking internationally back in 2013 and our manager had us over to his place for a heart-to-heart dinner. His one piece of advice? Don’t become arseholes who diss other bands. I mean, he had been Jet’s manager, so I get it, he’d seen what success could do to people. But it seemed an odd thing to level at a bunch of twentysomethingyearolds who needed real support and encouragement as their lives were about to change in ways they weren’t prepared for. Tonally it was different from guiding us to be professional and respectful. It felt like I was getting ready to run a marathon and he was there at the sidelines yelling “REMEMBER TO BE NICE!!!”
But beyond that isn’t the whole point of making stuff to have a point of view and present it? And sometimes that involves going against something else?
The Preatures have always been negs, and actually at times we are insufferable music snobs. It’s one of the things that bonded all of us in the first place (except for Luke, he’s an angel). So I guess what I’m saying is, I wish we had leaned in to that side of ourselves, instead of allowing it to be exiled in the name of niceness.
I’d rather be an honest, authentic arsehole than a nice phoney with nothing to say.
Beauty of the Beef.
I really love band beefs. I think they are so fun and entertaining for the public, and that part of it is celebrity working as it’s meant to. At that top level, it’s not even personal (although it’s often framed as though it is). It’s performance art.
Do we have any legitimate band or Artist beefs in Australia? I can’t think of any. I wish we did. Everyone is just too damn nice.
Which brings me to the topic of nemeses.
I think every self-respecting artist has a nemesis. Some have too many to count.
And yes I have one. It’s my little secret. He’s someone I’ve known for a long time, he’s in a very successful Australian band who won lots of awards, and he’s also a really nice guy, which make it’s all so much worse that I can’t stand him or his music. I remember watching his band perform early on in their (quick) ascent and thinking wow, they are really good and wow, I fucking hate this.
A nemesis inspires. They provoke intense feelings, passion, dislike, opposition. And why? It’s usually because they have some cross-overs or similarities with you, something crucial that serves as an irritating hook, maybe because they’re doing something you want to be doing, or in a way you want to be, but with blaring differences. In this way they become a key for exploration of your work and what’s important to you.
A nemesis has to be worthy, because you give them power when you acknowledge they are, in fact, your nemesis.
I’ll post the nemesis piece up in the Artist’s Almanac next week and until then, I invite you to make a list of things you hate. It’s really great fun.
x Izzi
Here’s mine:
Portals. Why does my dentist need me to sign up to their portal? Why can’t I just book an appointment on the phone?
2 factor authentication. Why does the portal for my dentist need to be secured by 2 factor authentication? Are they worried someone is going to hack in and then… book a dentist appointment on my behalf?
Internet Music sounding like an endless slop-loop of emo diary entries over whateverness (Gracie Abrams)
Influencer lunches where everyone wears white.
Waiters who crouch (more on that later).
Everyone is wearing too many belts. I like belts but I’m finding the trend of it all overwhelming. Also should I be wearing belts on tour?! So confused.
Katy Perry going to space because feminism.
Katy Perry announcing the setlist of her tour that isn’t selling well in space. HAVE SOME DIGNITY KATY.
Coaches selling me online courses with marketing that is based on their ability to sell online courses. Even I don’t understand what I’m talking about but it’s real.
I have this oven mitt. It’s cute.
I really dislike Daryl Braithwaite.He can ride out on the horse he rode in on.
Waiters who crouch 😂