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Biography: Meta-commentary by a manager
The year is 2010; the place, a small mediterranean island; the people involved: a bunch of veteran metal musicians. After years of delivering chuggy
bulldozing music, they randomly sat down one quiet afternoon to jam. Intoxicated and fed-up with current trends, the boys just played their instruments
the only way they knew, with honesty and passion and a little bit of booze. What started out as a purely in-studio project landed them with a full line-up
and a concert on the way, and before time dried up on them they started moving things along.
...read more
Biography: Meta-commentary by a manager
The year is 2010; the place, a small mediterranean island; the people involved: a bunch of veteran metal musicians. After years of delivering chuggy
bulldozing music, they randomly sat down one quiet afternoon to jam. Intoxicated and fed-up with current trends, the boys just played their instruments
the only way they knew, with honesty and passion and a little bit of booze. What started out as a purely in-studio project landed them with a full line-up
and a concert on the way, and before time dried up on them they started moving things along.
Or so I imagine.
You see, writing bios is a tough business, and although I’m no expert I sure helped write a couple of band biographies, plus a dozen of CVs for people. And
truth be told, if it don’t have some bloody girth in it, some humour or imagination, you fellas reading it here wouldn’t be arsed to go till the end, or as the
French put it, a l’outrance. Simply put, bios are boring stuff. But I digress.
Half-way through the glorious 2010 the boys realised they had something good going, and so with the help of modern technological breakthrough (read: a
bloody macbook and a couple of amps), they sat down and recorded those few wilful compositions that seemed to be sprouting with creativity and an
originality that could only be the bastard child of genres past and genres to come. Throw in a couple of keyboards and synthesizers for that tingling effect,
layer the beats with a prevalent bass track, merge the dramatic undertones and keep it all short and sweet just above the five minutes mark. And then
without much advertisement or promotion, release the stuff in a nice glossy promo called ‘Conquering The Waves’.
So I give them boys a call, or to be more precise the mastermind behind this DIY orgasmocalypse. I start off by appealing to the man’s ego, “Hey George,
good job, nice stuff, I think you got some good thing going”.
“Thanks”, he says, always modest and cuddly, exactly like a baby crocodile before he chews your arms off.
“But no matter how good of a musician you are, your promoting skills suck.”
And that’s how I sorta became their manager. Because I actually believed in their music. Because it sounds real to me, and because I wouldn’t mind
popping their CD on a train-ride to nowhere, while relaxing, in the gym or at a concert.
Fast-forward to 2012.
The band’s relocated to London, UK. Band is sweating their asses off doing whatever they can with the limited resources and it’s sounding even better
than before. They already got new songs recorded. Hell, they even have an awesome videoclip coming out, a proper music video clip with proper sets and a
hot model. And as far as biographies go, yeah they are truly boring, yeah they are really pretentious, but would you rather hear all this from a band talking
in the absurd third-person about themselves? Or from someone who put his neck on the line and guarantees you, that Oneirism is a new and promising
band in the game of rock, and that you’ll stick with them (as the French say), till the bitter end?
G.S.
Managér
York, England 27.1.12
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