Research Post #3 - New Media and Captain Obvious

In the time I have spent considering the indie subculture within this course, the connection between it and trends in new media has become increasingly difficult to ignore. At the Okkervil River gig I attended and reported for this blog, my opinion that the Apple iPhone had become an accessory for many in the subculture was pretty well cemented. Though there were some unlikely figures at the concert (for example, the two late-30-somethings positioned near us, whose dark attire, long hair and permanently sombre expressions brought to mind members of the heavy metal subculture), I spotted more iPhones than I could count on both hands and the fingers of their owners were moving across the screens at regular intervals. The sense of like-minded community I have mentioned within the indie subculture (or indeed any subculture, I suppose) also appears to have been heavily augmented by recent trends in online social networking. Mixed-media, short-form blogging platforms like Tumblr, which favour the posting of photography and music, has attracted a large community of users. As I saw someone remark online, Tumblr is “an eclectic community. It's like going to hang out with the indie kids. You know it is going to be different”; I hope I’ve made clear by now that the indie subculture thrives on and is driven by attempts at difference. The micro-blogging service Twitter seems to be achieving a similar status with many of the indie crowd. At least three acquaintances standing near me, who freely identify themselves as part of the subculture, were ‘Tweeting’ the show from their iPhones, and I have to admit this really annoyed me at the time. All I could think was, “why couldn’t they have just posted about how great the gig was when they got home?” But when I think about it now, in relation to how much the subculture emphasizes self-expression, creating a community of listeners who see themselves as loving a genuine music all of their own, it starts to make a bit more sense. This exploitation of new media is just another way for members to connect one another or the artists themselves, many of whom use blogging platforms of their own. Technology like the iPhone, particularly with its social networking and music features, just makes this all the more possible, and easier.

In the same vein of new media, I was last week hearing friends who are fans of Canadian indie fivesome Sunset Rubdown talk about how they simply couldn’t wait for their new LP, Dragonslayer, to ‘leak’ online before its June 23rd release date (I can only imagine the outpouring of gratitude bestowed upon whichever person uploaded the early-release mp3s onto torrent sites, obtained because they pre-ordered the CD). Similarly baited breath could be discerned online, on music blogs of the indie persuasion. These blogs, which vary from discussing and reviewing the music, to providing you with individual mp3s or full album streams almost as soon as the music has hit shelves, add yet another dimension to the indie experience. The work of indie bands becomes much more accessible to both new and established audiences something something here. One such blog, and the one I will be discussing herein, is Captain Obvious. Conceived in 2007, the site is described thusly:

Captain Obvious is just a guy and a handful of his talented friends writing about the things that they are passionate about, whether it be music, films, books, or just random topics.

While Captain Obvious still occasionally provides reviews of films, books and whatever else, these days the blog focuses most heavily on music. A self-dubbed ‘indie-folk blog’, it features album reviews, mp3s and the occasional artist interview and music video. Posts are divided into categories. The most frequent posts are those headed ‘new wax’ or ‘you should know’. The former is a review of a new indie release. The latter sees Captain obvious attempting to make the reader aware of an indie band or solo artist, existing below the larger musical radar, that he believes to be worthy of greater attention. Each of these types of posts comes with two free mp3s that the reader can download, which Captain Obvious believes to be standout tracks from the album or artist. In addition to this, he regularly posts seven-track mp3 ‘mixtapes’. These are generally categorized either by theme (such as covers) or month (for example, a ‘February mixtape’ comprises the songs released that month that he most enjoyed). The site’s disclaimer states that “all audio content is provided strictly for evaluation purposes and to promote the artist. If you like what you hear, please support the artist(s) by buying their albums/merch and going to their shows”. This is not uncommon to blogs of this type. While I don’t believe members of the indie subculture feel any less inclined to acquire their music by, shall we say, questionable means, there is still very much an emphasis on the support of musicians. If my recent ethnographic observations of the subculture are anything to go by, many members pride themselves on their CD collections. The emphasis on a near-spiritual connection with music that is so central to the culture means that is not unusual for a listener to possess both an actual album and downloaded tracks. In man ways, Captain Obvious is just a fan himself, providing indie listeners with greater access to and knowledge of music they love. I visit it quite regularly and have discovered new and now much-loved artists as a result.

Something regularly cited in all corners of media is the increasing shift of what is known as ‘indie’ toward the mainstream. I don’t believe this can just be attributed to bands moving from independent labels to major ones. In this age of new media, the Internet has made it possible for lesser-known groups to achieve the status of their major label peers and boundaries between ‘independent’ and ‘mainstream’ are becoming increasingly blurred. I would argue that websites like Captain Obvious obscure them even further. He was one of many reviewers who heaped praise upon Bon Iver, the solo project of Wisconsin folk musician Justin Vernon, and his self-released debut album, For Emma, Forever Ago (on a shallow note, I believe quite deservedly). Such critical praise spread rapidly online and Vernon wound up signing with indie label Jagjaguwar. As a result, the album was re-released in 2008 on a much wider scale and reaching an even larger audience. Now, Vernon’s songs can be heard on the radio, he was in the US Billboard Top 100 and it’s ‘cool’ to like him, largely as a result of people like Captain Obvious. So even though he is still signed to an independent label, can he still be viewed as ‘indie’? Does being willing to accept the accessibility and financing that a label can provide make him mainstream instead?

Examples like these are one of the main reasons why defining ‘indie’ is so troublesome and I suppose why I have avoided trying to explicitly do so in my previous entries. To me, it is becoming clearer and clearer that the concept cannot be identified simply by a relationship with an independent record company, nor can a definition exclude bands that achieved greater popularity. In the past, I have leant towards a definition that includes artists who possess a distinct sound, characterized by unconventional vocals and instruments, with multi-layered lyrics, but there are problems with this, also. There are so many subcategories under the indie umbrella that applying a consistent idea of indie ‘sound’ becomes difficult and even illogical. This problem with definition, and increasing state of evolution, is something I will attempt to examine in more detail as part of my final essay.


You can check out Captain Obvious at http://www.thankscaptainobvious.net/. The image I have posted is property of the site and has been reproduced for illustrative purposes only.

Research Post #2 - Sigur Rós and "Heima"

“Heima” is a documentary film which chronicles the tour of Icelandic post-rock band Sigur Rós. I first viewed it late last year, but thought an analysis of it would be appropriate for this blog, so I rewatched it. Shot in the summer of 2006, it follows the group as they perform a series of free concerts in their home country. Rather than choosing to perform traditional concerts at enormous venues, complete with large numbers of instruments and equipment, they played intimate shows in unusual locations like abandoned shipping factories, community halls, and highland cottages.

Sigur Rós formed in 1994 and have released two EPs and five studio albums in that time, as well as contributing to soundtrack and remix albums. Debut studio recording Von was released in 1997 through Icelandic indie label Bad Taste Records (known as Smekkleysa in their homeland) and the local release of all subsequent albums has been through this label. Their second record, Ágætis byrjun, was released internationally between 1999 and 2000 via British independent label, Fat Cat Records, as was the group’s 2002 album, (), in conjunction with international label Play It Again Sam. The fourth album by Sigur Rós, Takk… signalled their move toward a major label, being released through the British label EMI and the American label Geffen. Their most recent album, Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust, was also released by EMI.

The long-held definition of ‘indie’ refers to music distributed through an independent record label, rather than a major one; indeed the term is merely an abbreviation of the word ‘independent’. Through my experience of the indie subculture in the last few years, which has involved extensive music consumption and concert attendance, I have observed a certain evolution of that definition. While being on an independent label in the present or past is certainly seen as desirable within the subculture, categorizing a band as ‘indie’ has also become connected to notions of authenticity and accessibility. Consumers within the subculture distinguish the music as being ‘indie’ due to their view of it as distinct from the mainstream and therefore superior. To them, it is ‘real’ music that is more honest and more sophisticated than the cut-and-paste pop or modern R&B music of the Top 40. Operating in conjunction with this is recognizing indie as something that a comparatively small group of people are familiar with, and a feeling of shared community exists within the subculture as a result. Feeling as though you are privy to something extraordinary is a mainstay of the indie subculture and this seeps into their experience of music. They desire personal connection with music that makes its independence clear, and that they can share with like-minded people.

“‘Heima’ means ‘home’,” says lead singer Jón “Jónsi” Þór Birgisson in the film’s opening, and this notion pervades the entire documentary. Footage of the band’s performances are almost always intercut with recordings of the Icelandic landscape and its people. The film explores the connection of the band and its music with their homeland as they perform at the most far-flung and unconventional locations, either for small communities of Icelanders or just for themselves. The sense of kinship that Sigur Rós creates in these performances is central to the indie subculture. The concerts here are intensely personal, making the viewer feel as though they are witnessing a brief moment of pure music, something that the band is doing because they want to, rather than feeling as though they have to. The sparse nature of the shows, which remove the more mainstream aesthetics of a large-scale concert, adds to this. They are restrained, effect-free and intimate. This appeals to indie sensibilities which favour musical integrity. Members of the subculture view music in its most unaltered, untroubled form as being the most authentic and the experience of such composition is highly valued.


Indie subculture emphasises an appreciation of music created for its own sake, rather the sake of record companies, and Sigur Rós certainly falls into this category. The passion Sigur Rós have for the music-making process is heavily reflected in Heima. In the film, bassist Georg “Goggi” Hólm refers to the lack of appeal the band finds in meteoric major-label success.

“You’re in a band but you’re just doing business, you know, you’re having meetings with lawyers and things like that. In a way, it’s quite exciting, you think about the future and stuff, but at the same time, it’s just, you know, almost like doing a desk job instead of making music.”

Jónsi, the lead singer, adds:

“We’re kinda really skeptical about all this, like doing interviews, a lot of photo sessions, all this stuff, all these typical things. And then if you deny that, if you don’t want to be a part of that, then people are all, ‘whoah, why are you doing that?’ It’s confusing. Then they start to build up some image of you that isn’t right.”

That the band is so unconcerned with appearances, publicity and the like, seems indicative of its status as an indie band; the indie subculture is in theory focused less on exteriority and more on interiority, or musical content. The band cannot entirely be accused of ‘selling out’ by moving towards a major label. If the attitude they present in the film is anything to go by, they do their best to eschew overwhelming fame and fanaticism. All the members speak softly and shlyly in varying degrees of broken English, and seem hesitant to acknowledge the extent of their success, intent instead on producing good music. As drummer Orri Páll Dýrason notes, “We work a lot on the music. Sometimes maybe too much, and it takes a lot to make us happy with what we do.” There is less focus on histrionics and more on creating a pure musical experience, something the indie subculture attaches importance to. As Emmy Hennings' review of Heima noted, “this is the band that needed a crane to lift in the mixing desk used to record ( ) inside an abandoned swimming pool-turned-studio, yet turned down 2 million pounds from a British bank that wanted a 15-second snippet for an ad.”


While now arguably more mainstream than they used to be, largely as a result of their songs frequently being used in film and television scores and trailers, Sigur Rós still appear to be more accessible to an indie crowd. As I mentioned earlier, the indie subculture views their music as something not shared or understood by many people (which has unfortunately but understandably led to them being labelled as snobbish). The idea of accessibility is key to the indie experience. That Sigur Rós are Icelandic and therefore don’t sing in English (with the exception of the final track, "All Alright", on their most recent album, Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust) limits their connection with a more mainstream crowd that might easily dismiss something foreign. Their songs also often feature incomprehensible lyrics which utilize the melodic and rhythmic elements of song without grammar or syntax, a language dubbed ‘Hopelandic’ by the band. This restricts their accessibility even further. The notion of indie is also about resisting or challenging convention and everything I have mentioned that occurs in Heima affirms this, the band opting to play in areas like isolated national parks and tiny town halls, and providing the viewer with a personal experience of their performances.

Heima is ultimately not your average concert tour DVD. Rather, it is a film about music itself and the homeland of the band that has created it. As well providing enjoyment for Sigur Rós fans, it offers insight into their status as an indie band, which allows for a thorough examination of the indie subculture as a whole.


Heima. Dir. Dean DeBlois. Klikk Film, Truenorth Productions & EMI, 2007.
Hemmings, Emmy. Review of Heima by Dean DeBlois and Sigur Rós. Cyclic Deforst Magazine 18 (2007). 19th of May.

Research Post #1 - Okkervil River

On the 3rd of May, I attended the live show of Texas folk-rock band Okkervil River. They performed at The Zoo in Fortitude Valley, which has long been a staple setting of the live indie music scene. It is arguably something of a cult venue in Brisbane, and has played host to a multitude of both local and international artists.

For those unfamiliar with the group, I will provide a brief background. Thanks to the clever wordplay and reflective depth contained within their lyrics, Okkervil River are frequently cited as part of the ‘lit rock’ paradigm also exemplified by Portland indie band The Decemberists (I am of the opinion, however, that the raw, more rock-and-roll-centric sound of the former is quite different to the whimsical storytelling and theatrical aesthetics of the latter). An enduring musical fixture in a constantly shifting and frequently transient market, Okkervil River self-released their first EP, Bedroom, as well as their first album, Stars Too Small To Use between 1998 and 1999. They were signed with indie rock label Jagjaguwar (whose roster includes indie-folk darling Bon Iver and Montreal indie-rock band Sunset Rubdown) on the strength of these records, and subsequently released the studio albums Don’t Fall in Love With Everyone You See and Down the River of Golden Dreams in 2002 and 2003 respectively. Okkervil River’s third studio album, Black Sheep Boy (2005), cemented their success outside Texas, as did their critically acclaimed fourth studio work, The Stage Names (2007). This performance in Brisbane was part of their tour for fifth album The Stand Ins, released in late 2008.

There were many elements of my experience at the Okkervil River show that can be related to an understanding of the indie subculture. Through both observation and contact, it becomes clear that what is most fundamental to the indie subculture is an enjoyment of music for its own sake, especially when it comes to experiencing live performance. Group members appear to focus first and foremost on the aesthetics of music, and find a sense of authenticity in indie music production and performance. With regard to live music consumption, the listening experience is weighted more heavily than the behaviours typically associated with concert attendance, such as dancing within a large space or unconcealed adulation of the performers in question. In her book Empire of Dirt: The Aesthetics and Rituals of British Indie Music, Wendy Fonarow contends that those who attend indie music concerts situate themselves around the physical space in a particular way, situating themselves in three separate ‘zones’ according to levels of devotion, behaviour and community rank. Many of my observations at the Okkervil River concert occurred with this concept in mind.

According to the author, Zone One is the area directly in front of the stage and is populated by younger, more eager members of the indie music subculture. They demonstratively admire the musician and physically manifest the privilege of being near the stage through activities such as dancing or singing along. Zone Two, Fonarow asserts, is an area for the somewhat older member of the culture. This center space is occupied by those more interested in experiencing the music on a near-spiritual level and less physically occupied with it. Zone Three is the final area of participation and comprises members of the music industry. These members reside closest to the back and furthest edges, paying little attention to the musicians or music. According to the author, they prefer to socialize and in some cases are striving to attain elevated status in the industry.

This division of audience was interesting to see at The Zoo. I was unashamedly part of Zone One. I am a big fan of Okkervil River, and at least two of the friends I attended with are even more fanatical than myself. As a group, we have attended many performances at The Zoo. Doors typically open at 8pm, with the supporting artist performing for an hour at approximately 8:30, followed by a break until the main act performs at around 10pm. Our usual practice is to arrive either during or after the performance of the support act. We then position ourselves to achieve as good a view of the main act as is possible by this time, usually still somewhere near the front and occupying Zone Two. If my observations of many of the concert’s attendees are any indication, this is not an unusual practice. There seems to be an unspoken reluctance to appear as overeager amongst the indie community (which has arguably led to their denigration as pretentious by those outside the subculture) and this could certainly be a contributing factor. That said, there are always members of the indie subculture who are visibly committed to their position in Zone One. In this instance, my friends and I arranged to arrive at least half an hour before doors were to open, intent on claiming a position at the front of the stage. Despite this dedication, there were around five people lined up before us and the line grew to around forty people as we waited. By the time we had positioned ourselves at the front, more than half of the people who had queued behind us had placed themselves around the front sections of the floor. The bar and pool area of The Zoo (or Zone Three) was clearly populated by casual observers, perhaps with industry connections, interested in some light entertainment over the long weekend. Zone Two appeared to be comprised of those who happy to hear the band from a little further back, or had arrived too late to be a part of Zone One.

With regard to live performance itself, indie subculture places great emphasis upon the aesthetics and authenticity of the event. Group members like feeling as though they are viewing a personal moment of self-expression for the artist in question, and that the artist is enjoying the experience as much as they are. A sense of the band taking pleasure in their own music and creating intimacy with the audience is paramount. I loved the show, and I believe the energy and passion of Okkervil River contributed to this. Lead singer Will Sheff developed an immediate rapport with the audience, remaining consistently emotive and pushing his vocals to their limit. Drummer Travis Nelsen stopped his frenetic thumping only for brief sips of whisky and newest member Lauren Gurgiolo switched effortlessly between a variety of stringed instruments. The crowd was unburdened by labels traditionally affixed to their subculture, namely those that categorize them as self-important and apathetic. High energy songs such as John Allyn Smith Sails were met with appropriate handclaps, dancing and loud singing, while quieter pieces like A Stone were met with reverent silence (and in some more embarrassing cases, tears).

Overall, it was a great show that offered an interesting insight to the indie subculture and its attitude to live performance.


Fonarow, Wendy. "The Zones of Participation". Empire of Dirt: The Aesthetics and Rituals of British Indie Music. Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 2006. 79-122.