Alarm bells.

I got a scan which revealed no break or fracture – just an excruciatingly sore foot that requires crutches. I didn’t even think of pulling out of the shows – which is proof of something… stupidity I think. I was pretty bummed out about it given how great this tour has been – I really wanted to go out on a high on the final leg and WA is a great place to play live music.

The mind is willing...

Tonight is soldout in Fremantle and the venue, Mojos, has a lot of character. Everyone forgets that Sydney is 3 hours ahead so when we’re on stage at 11pm, it’s actually 2am our time (usually the first show on the WA run is a mixture of delusion, exhaustion and exhileration). None of this matters, the crowd is great – and sympathetically scream as I hobble onto stage on crutches – my debut crutches performance. Horrorshow play a massive set – one of their best.

Due to an accommodation slip, we’re staying at a backpackers tonight. We wind down outside as an Israeli, a Japanese and an Australian discuss world politics. Brings back memories of life on the backpacker curcuit – I have a sudden urge to rob them of their Thai fisherman pants and read ‘The Beach’.

Luke Snarl - indefatigable soundman

Onto Bunbury! The Prince of Wales is a classic venue with a classic publican, Mitch. Mitch “doesn’t believe in riders” so he disregards any written requests (as are included in artists contracts) but he happily provides most of whatever you request in person. Our backstage is upstairs in the pub accom and we have to decline bongs from a few Aussie hip hop fans also staying upstairs, shirts off, already cutting loose.

Me: “Sorry fellas, we’ve got to do the show .”

Bloke: “Awwright, afterwards then?”

Me: “We’ll see how we go.”

Bloke: “Sick cunt!”

Bunbury is always wild. One guy drunkenly spilt bourbon across a number of our tees on the merch stand and then stumbled off, only later to return and demand a discount on a fresh tee. Most of us are fairly sober, but some of our clientele are drunk as maggots – it’s an awesome dynamic.

Back to Perth and our final show of the tour at the Amplifier Bar. We’re clashing with Phrase, Pearl Jam and Ladyhawke tonight so there’s no guarantees except the party afterward. Mondo has worked with Urban Monk to create his own song about tour managing, featuring autotune and synth hip hop production – and performs it unannounced onstage as a surprise for us at the end of soundcheck. We fall about the venue laughing!

Horrorshow rockin' Amps!

Amplifier turns out! We pretty much sell the venue out and the vibes is heavy – we spot Drapht kickin it with his lady and it turns out to be the perfect show to close it all out. Cameras are flashing constantly – our touring party madly trying to capture the last moments before the tour finishes. We conclude the night with an all-in jam session and everyone, including Mondo, joins us onstage dancing to our final track.

Solo, Chips, Gusto (back), Urban Monk, Mondo, Cam, Adit & me

Urth & Chizzzle

Big up Urban (Polo Club)

Solo is mos def in the house in 2009

What would J Dilla do? Elgusto killed it on this tour

Absinthe (?) is hectic.

We fly home slightly less energetic.

Thanks to all the people that came to the shows for making this tour so great!

A slight sense of pessimism has crept into the camp for tonight’s show in Coolangatta – it’s the first of two tests of how much we’d suffer with the Hilltop Hoods playing the same town that weekend. There is a massive storm forecast and things are a little grim. I learnt years ago as a touring artist during tough nights on the road, the fine art of downplaying any success. With this revised sense of doom, you’re generally fairly satisfied with any result, and chances are you’re even happy! Tonight was a perfect example. 200 odd people in a 950 person room is not quite a “roaring success” but we killed the merch once again, and the people were in devastating form for a Thursday.

After doing a live rendition of Ready to Go on Nova, we almost couldn't contain ourselves

Next night is Brisbane and boom, we directly clash with The Hoods – who’ve sold 4500 tickets to their show up the road. Scheduling clashes are inevitable – the only question is the extent and seriousness of the clashes. On the Spitshine tour to date, we’ve clashed with the Obese Block Party, Phrase and Snob Scrilla (twice) as well as the Hoods. Fortunately we’ve done really well each time, but tonight is the BIGGIE. Taking this into account, you may have seen me and my diligent manager Mondo handing out flyers at the front of the Hoods show as it finished – an hour before I was supposed to be on stage! Dignified and cut down to size, we got back to The Zoo and were stoked to see it just shy of soldout. An amazing night compounded by the fact that we’d succeeded against all odds.

Horrorshow live via phone camera rocking the Zoo

Nat Dunn joined us in Bris - here she is with Urban Monk & Cam from Polo Club as well as Ms Janey Chips

The drive to the Sunshine Coast is a nice one, but the water temperature once we got there and swum was fucking fantastic.

Gusto & Adit - that right there calls for a celebration

Our expectations for tonight are high – we’re in a room that fits 350 and we’ve sold 280 presales – little did we know there’d be 300 walkups and they’d somehow fit 600 into the venue, as well as turning 50 more away. WTF?! The definition of loose is underlined, bolded and then pummelled to a Sunny Coast pulp. We conclude the evening with an impromptu car party – we blasted the speakers and everyone started dancing around the vehicle. A stack of punters waiting for cabs came and joined in and soon enough it was on for young and old. We eventually cleared off for a 3am swim in the local beach.

Returning our one way hire car to Maroochydore airport, we all reflected on next week being the last week of the tour…

We collected our hire car and packed our belongings for Wollongong Uni quietly confident that tonight’s ‘End of Session’ party was going to be pretty large. It turned out to be a more sedate affair: ‘End of Session’ means the end of classes and the start of exams. A fair few people tempted fate and shunned their studies for us, and for that, we love you. Then we left.

Arriving home at 2.30am the night before meant the 7am wake-up for the Albury flight was red-eyed and memorable. I really love the randomness of check-in: ‘will we get charged for excess this time?’ or ‘will we get someone who sympathises and is kinda excited that we’re in a band and asks “which band are you”, only to draw a blank when we say Urthboy and Horrorshow?’ We proceed through the x-ray and see if they don’t choose Adit to test for explosive devices – his browner skin means he’s usually last to the shitty airport coffee stand.

ROI Bar Albury feat. Timmy

Albury hasn’t changed much since our last visit, the crowd are loose and excellent tonight – buying way more merch than is reasonable for 200 people. We last spot Solo clearing off into the night with a couple locals..

Next morning we dropped a very pale Solo to the airport in the safekeeping of Adit, while we drove to Canberra for the Stonefest Festival.

Someone get Solo some berocca or 10 hrs sleep

It must’ve been 35 degrees when we hit the stage and a big crowd braved the heat to check us out. Apart from us, Art vs Science and Josh Pyke, the lineup is all rock music and despite wanting a dose of Frenzal Rhomb, we bailed out of there early..

Backstage Stonefest Art vs Science in background

And then everyone lived happily ever after…

Ahh Melbourne.

Tonight we’re in Ballarat and my man Rok Poshtya from The Herd tells me this is his favourite regional town to tour. The venue is Karova Lounge and memories of school excursions to learn about the gold rush period come to mind as we drive into town.

Behind enemy lines...

Left to right: Chips, Urban Monk & Adit. Mellow dudes love shooting innocent animals

Err.. what I was saying about mellow dudes..

To explain the dynamic of touring is kinda hard and despite years of gigging I can never quite explain the state of mind or the intensity of being on tour to friends. Tonight is no exception, halfway through my show I’m handed a phone with the message ‘My brother was coming to the show but died earlier this week, could you please dedicate a song to him’.

Damn.

It’s tricky coming up with words on the spot to deal with that – but later in the show we dedicate a song that we think will somehow go out to friends and family of the fella.

Next day we head into Melbourne and expectations are high. It’s no secret that Melbourne is the capital cultural centre of Oz and I love coming down here and doing good shows – it feels almost like impressing that really cool girl in school until she wants to go out with you. But once you win her over and she’s all hot for you, you bail the fuck outta there like nobody’s business! I felt like losing a limb or damaging something in order to seal the deal tonight – I think I came out ok with only a few muscle strains. We had the trifecta of guests, Lior, Mark Pearl and Mantra join us.

Me, Pearly, Lior and Chips

But the really memorable aspect of the night was the electricity in the air – it was for me, the highlight of the tour and an unforgettable gig. We try not to do any half-hearted shows EVER but tonight we lifted into a new spot and it was fucking thrilling. Thanks Melbourne, you’re a sweet lass. The conclusion to the night was ridiculous, in the lamest way possible – our after party consisted of no music and a bunch of us chillin’ out in the hotel room. It seems the greatness of the gig suffocated all the excitement and celebration out of the night so we kinda ran outta steam post show. I’m cool wit dat.

Exhausted, we drove to Frankston for our show at the Pelly Bar. Despite the perceptions that a fair few Melbournians have about Frankston (each time we mentioned we were going there), we had a great time despite being mere shadows of ourselves. The gig itself was a cracker and the backstage area was a party zone… this photo kinda betrays it was a fairly sleepy party zone.

Gusto in hype man mode

Mondo, our insufferable tour manager and all round good guy navigated us back to Melbourne that night and we got up again to….

…drop off a car at an airport where we boarded a plane, took off and landed at another airport where we picked up another car and drove to another concert.

Fat as Butter Festival in Newcastle.

Genuinely one of my favourite places to tour after years and years of gigs at the Cambridge Hotel, Panthers, Leagues Club, Star Hotel and more.. We played to a lively crowd against the backdrop of Grinspoon and I almost slipped and fell offstage myself during Spitshine (injuries, near death experiences – there’s been more than our fair share on this tour). We must’ve done ok as we sold almost 60 items on the merch desk. That night we drove home in one of those ‘THIS IS REALLY FARRRRCKED UP!’ thunderstorms where rain is so furious that the car seems to buck at the constant smashing of water on its frame.

We arrived home safely. Thanks Mondo.

Mid north QLD looking both ways

Rockhampton is on fire. Literally. Bushfires are burning outta control on the outskirts (in a few days we’d hear news that whole neighbourhoods would be evacuated) and the trees, streets and even the local Vinnies store are bone dry. But pressingly, our soundcheck drags on unproductively until it becomes clear that the PA company decided to bail on tonight so the two girls who handle the show have kittens while our soundy Luke tries to make do.

The venue window reveals nothing of the panic of the missing PA

An hour before the show, a guy from the local theatre pops in for one beer before heading home – and once informed of the situation – manages to hook up the gear we need from an alternative company. This is treated as a miracle and we almost bow down to him. We’ll pretty much bow down to anything at this point. The show is a 180 degree flip on our expectations – the crowd go buckwild – jumping and flaying limbs in unison to ‘The Clocks’ (one of the more downtempo tunes in the set). Ok it’s clear, Rocky fucking rocks. I can’t recall how many times I get told that we’re the 3rd hip hop group to ever play there. Onto Mackay…

If you remember, a few weeks ago The Herd pulled out of a gig in Mackay and I was told not to come by certain err, fans, so I admit I was a little nervous about the show. It was kinda eery driving through the areas that were the subject of a national news story involving us only recently but once at the show, the crowd was mad. I talked with a bunch of people who were concerned, but respected our views and hands were shaken all round. Mackay is just as the sign says..

Tour manager Mondo gets in the spirit

The drive between Mackay and Townsville is crazy: cane trains; burning sugarcane fields; towering mountains; rusty old factories and sugar mills and little towns with 2 pubs and one general store.

Cane train with about 15 carriages

We’re in no hurry and manage to stop off in Bowen for a swim which leaves my ears blocked for 5 days. Tonight’s show is another mystery – the original venue closed on us a few weeks ago, in the process cancelling a guaranteed fee and free production (PA etc). The show’s replacement is the Andergrove Tav and we have no guarantee and we have to bring in production – which is over a grand – add on the fact that we haven’t had much time to spread the word of the new venue, and you have a tentative touring party.

Maybe it’s the low expectations, but tonight is awesome – we have a very decent crowd and they’re keen as. The enthusiasm at the last few QLD shows has been eye-opening and infectious. I get all but contracted to go out fishing and diving off the reef with two burly dudes that look like cops. Couldn’t take em up on the offer. All 30ish offers..

Last drive of the North QLD leg and it’s the most spectacular – you should do this sometime. The landscape has drifted from dry as a bone to lush and rainforesty and we drive through a bushfire that licked the edge of our car. Tonight we join up with Obese Records for their Block Party show (originally we were booked at different venues on the same night so we joined forces) which I’m looking forward to – a fair few Obese artists are good mates of ours.

Muph, Jane, Urth & Plutonic Lab

It’s my birthday and the crew have managed to get a cake delivered to our hotel room that is a replica of the shoe on my album cover.

No way...?

Note thongs, we’re not in southern Aust anymore…

Solo, Gusto, Mondo & Chips Tyzzle

Tonight’s gig is predictably carnage – the Obese lads make sure of that but we go down an absolute storm with the locals. Muph & Pluto kill it to conclude the night.. Somehow I’m photographed dancing on a podium and we depart for more drinks and late night swimming – how we didn’t get kicked out is beyond me.

The after after party at the airport

Then miraculously…

Cheerin and dancin at Sydney airport

This kinda sums up the Spitshine tour… mad vibes everywhere and the energy is brimming.

Looking forward to Melbourne next week…

After the bizarre ride of last weekend we reach the airport and I’m nervous. My voice has taken a turn for the worse and it’s scratchy as hell and it’s painful to swallow and I’m supposed to do 4 headline shows in 4 days? My normal strategy when I get crook is kick into denial and today is no different – so business as usual, strictly that is.

Syd Airport en route

Launceston is a crazy town. We came here once during the 2004 election and a panel van drove around the town in circles with the phrase ‘Fuck off Mark Latham’ emblazoned across the whole vehicle. From memory Latham was attempting to scale back old growth logging. This time however, it’s all roses and the town is in fine form – tomorrow is show day so even though it’s wednesday, there’s party in the air. Well, a sleepy party. Our show turns out to be fun and we get a healthy crowd and I somehow splutter my way through despite a croaky voice. Had a few good conversations with local folks – shoutout to Ashley our street teamer who helped put posters up. We pack out of the venue and Launny shows her wild side…girls in high heels stumbling head first onto the road, fellas heckling anything that moves; late night pizza shop doing serious business as punters rifle through their wallets and purses like looking for lost jewelery in sand. Beautiful.

Hobart 7th & 8th Oct

The Republic Bar

I wake to find my voice has deteriorated more so I start enquiring about GPs and miracle cures. I drop into Launceston hospital who inform me I’ll have at least a 4 hour wait. I visit chemists and Coles trying to get a hookup – no offence to chemists but pharmaceuticals are the last thing I resort to. The drive to Hobart is a great one though, littered with old colonial buildings and classic green Australian landscapes. We’re squashed like sardines into our Tarago and we’re short of road music so we bounce to Outkast thru the speaker of an iPhone.

View from the front

We arrive in Hobart and I head to a GP that Colin Daniels (Inertia) recommends. He originally tried to tee me up with some celebrity vocal doctor that Pink uses but (probably fortunately) that falls through. Col has been a huge help – he’s the one that lent me his house to record half of Spitshine in. Once again I’m sent to a chemist – this time for 2 prescriptions. Crap. The show is great tonight even though we’re taking a risk doing two Hobart shows, and we sell a truck load of merch. Our motel is modest… yeah, that’s all I can say.

Next morning and I’m back on my concoctions though my voice has taken a turn for the better. We headed up Mount Wellington and kicked around in the snow before rolling back to a soldout show – and what a crazy gig. A few guys gave Polo Club a surprise when complimenting them on their gig, by punching Urban Monk in the balls, “Mad gig mate, you deserve a nut tap! Yeah NUT TAP!” I’m serious, these guys were trying to pay them a compliment. Another bloke regaled me with his thoughts on the show and then revealed it was one of his best experiences tripping ever, although he thought “we were playing a joke on him for about 10 minutes in the middle”. Awesome!

Little do they know we have 3 hours at best, before waking to catch connecting planes for our show the next day in Adelaide. Sorry guys, we’ve gotta leave.

___

Adelaide 10th Oct

An early flight after a late gig is always enhanced by 4 hours transit before the connecting flight and though 10 hours seems too long between leaving your hotel in Hobart and arriving at your hotel in Adelaide, we pull it off. Tonight is ill, we sellout Adelaide and we get mad love – I’m warming to this city every year. There are 100s of zombies walking the street in some kind of zombie festival and I’m ok with that too.

This feels like triumph to me and this tour is killin’ it now. After a day & a half on this prescription I dump it against doctors orders. Fuck it, I’m feelin better.

Tomorrow morning Jane and I wake up at 6am for a 14 & a 1/2 hour video shoot for Shruggin’.

Mama Chu's!

Who would’ve ever thought it’d come to this? A soldout Metro show on a rainy Sydney night with myself and Horrorshow calm as buildings. What to say? Horrorshow smashed the living shit outta this gig – I’d go as far as to say a career highlight – the crowd was young and hungry for them. It was a sight to behold. I sat side of stage while the One Dayers had kittens and Sydney celebrated another little notch in its development. Well done lads, I’m brimming with pride.

Our lighting guy, who I’d liaised with for months about tonight – got arrested 5 minutes before we went on stage. So much for the lighting show! We set a new Elefant Traks record for merch tonight – this is a blur. Our show was fantastic and I’m still trippin’ that we soldout. Onto the afterparty where we see this little poster on the wall… y’all guess where this character is from?

Fishos Manly Oct 3

We did the drive up the Northern Beaches and it was anyone’s guess how tonight would go. People turned up and turned out, bigtime! Just before we went on stage the venue soundman celebrated his birthday by reciting a poem on stage. It turned out to be a homophobic rant that linked pedophilia to drug taking homosexuals. Wtf? The Polo Club boys walked backstage looking like they’d seen a ghost.

Baroque Katoomba Oct 4

Another rainy night (3 in a row) but tonight was like firecrackers. It’s my old hometown and it feels like a million dollars when we have a special gig there. I meet a young fella who I coached when he was 10 (I used to coach under 10s and 12s cricket), it doesn’t need mentioning the fact that we won both years. Did I just let that slip? Cricket and hip hop have never come together like tonight. Awesome gig.

Elgusto and Polo Club head out to an after party while me and manager Mondo have an after party of sorts. We fold and count the merch at the hotel. Baby I’m craaazy..

In our infinite wisdom, we crammed 14 people into 3 station wagons and drove up the NSW coast. There’s Astronomy Class, Horrorshow, The Tongue, Hermitude, me and Jane as well as Mondo (manager) and our soundy Luke. This first leg is a one-off, Astro, Hermy and Tongue leave us after these 3 shows.

There’s something you can’t beat about opting for driving over flying; the mixtapes; the shit-talking; the friendly waves to the highway patrol who may have just fined you hundreds of dollars; the pitstops for shitty food; the busload of old women at Bulahdelah, all rocking that pimped out purple hair; watching a factory worker at Broadwater Sugar Plant trying to raise the Australian flag on their flagpole; the bikies camped outside a cafe on a rest stop; the progressively looser Astro car smokin’ & drankin’ (shoutout to Gusto designated driver); stopping off at Little Italy Museam north of Coffs where we find out the first Italian refugees arrived in 1881 (not the most popular of museams from our time there) while ‘We Get Around’ is playing on the car radio of the tradeys working out the front. There’s a lot to like about a good long drive up the coast. Me and Solo discuss new rappers like Wale, J. Cole & Drake.. I make mention that my favourite records of the last 2 years are from vets Q-Tip and Mos Def. Solo is across shit – I think he eats and breathes internet. Chips Tyzzle is dropping folk from Iceland or wherever..

First stop, Coffs Harbour. Everyone put on good shows and the night is messy. I’m holding it down sober – with 25 more tour dates and a voice that gets lost after raging tour weekends – I’m pretending to be pro. It’s working for the most part, though I think I shook one guys hand about 25 times who was drunk as shit (I’m not trying to be cold here, but after about 18 it gets really samey). Good guy though. Spent about 10 minutes chatting and signing some stuff for 2 guys at close, who then stole a shirt. Meanwhile, if you were deaf, you’d only have seen the haze in the backroom, not the cypher that kicked on well after closing time. I completely destroyed my ankle earlier on this week playing indoor soccer, so I’ve got an exaggerated white gangsta limp in full effect – and this traveling crew is full on proper noble gents, I ain’t carrying shit upstairs yo. The accom upstairs reveals bunks with no sheets. I probably would’ve been better off getting drunk.

On to Byron Bay – always a pleasure – it’s like a resort town nowadays. Japanese surfers working at the Sushi joint; glowing Belingen mums pottering around the Thai restaurant taking orders; Scandanavian girls making coffees – Byron is the place where George Clooneys go to rest. I worked away on the merch desk and tried to sneak glances of the Eels vs Dogs preliminary final. I actually dig the random conversations with fans, though it can be exhausting, and sitting on the merch desk is asking for it. Tonight a lady and her husband told me that 2 years ago, I’d signed a CD for their friend, who was arranging it for them, because they couldn’t come to the show as this woman was pregnant at the time. I had signed the CD and jokingly predicted the baby would be born on 5/6/08. They came tonight to tell me their baby was born on the 5/6/08 and maybe I have magical powers.

We finished tonight upstairs blasting Shane Skills opus. It includes the classics ‘Your mum’s a mole’ and ‘I like to smoke mull’.

Saturday and we’re at Sounds of Spring Festival in Brisbane. Some crew members are looking worse for wear and head home after their sets. I catch up with a few crew (Phrase, Drapht, Pez, 360 & Seth, Downsyde) but I’m confined to backstage of hip hop tent cos of my ankle, so I don’t get to catch up with my tight black jeans peoples. I caught the first half of the AFL grand final in the green room and it seems most of the music industry are Saints supporters. I reckon Tex Perkins and Paul Dempsey made grumpy frontmen that night. We (Urthboy) get a good response but something is missing – later we’re msg’d and contacted via myspace and email that the PA was dodgy on the bigger stage in the hip hop tent. You can plan for everything but…

As is the natural way of things at festivals, our rider is raided. We leave and party at our hotel. Cyphers on the balcony; Rage on the TV; Batla is speaking half Spanish half English so you know he’s had a big day. Good crew this one, made up of young and old(er) elefants. Mondo has done a stellar job (including 2 trips to the hotel due to lack of designated drivers, one had 7 people and about a 637 bags and 30 photos). Drama at the airport next day but it works out so I’ll spare you the blah blah…

Next week Sydney, Manly and Katoomba. I’m feelin it f’real.

Spirit of protest is alive, just different
Alex Kaiser
August 15, 2009
The Age

THE 40th anniversary of the Woodstock Festival is sure to trigger another round of reminiscing about the 1960s. The familiar and celebrated images of the era – civil rights protesters, a young Bob Dylan with acoustic guitar in hand, Vietnam War protests and Woodstock hippies – will be juxtaposed to represent the ‘’spirit of the ’60s”.
Romantic recollections about the 1960s form the impression of a ”golden age” of youth political activism. Nostalgic and hazy memories have created the idea that the ”Woodstock generation” was the first, and only, generation to be truly politically active. It’s understandable that people who were active during these years remember them fondly, but it’s time to move on.
Sixties nostalgia can be clearly seen in debates on politics in popular music. In particular, younger people have repeatedly been accused of failing to respond to the Iraq War in the way that the ”Woodstock generation” protested against the Vietnam War.
Midnight Oil drummer Rob Hirst, in a speech at the ARIAs in 2006, claimed: ”Vietnam inspired some of the greatest protest songs ever written. Not so now.” Hirst is not a lone voice here. Many media commentators and academics have echoed his sentiments, both in Australia and in the US.
Neil Young led the nostalgia brigade in the US while promoting his album Living With War in 2006. Claiming there had been no protest songs written about the Iraq War, Young expressed his disappointment that it fell to the ’60s generation to take up the job again. For Young, and many others, contemporary music simply cannot compare to the protest music of the 1960s.
The continuing glorification of 1960s music reflects a broader romantic attachment to outdated forms of political engagement. Prominent members of the ”Woodstock generation” have been highly protective of their idealised role as the first, and only, truly political generation. Younger people today are still judged in relation to the methods of political activism favoured in the 1960s.
This judgment is coming from a generation for whom ”wireless” is more likely to evoke images of listening to Sunday evening radio shows than high-speed internet. Society has changed, and so have the forms of contemporary political participation.
Protest anthems had their place in the ’60s, but this music appears anachronistic in relation to contemporary politics. If sceptics want an example of political engagement in contemporary music, they need look no further than Australian band The Herd. Their style is diverse – sometimes they attack with unrestrained venom, as in their controversial track 77%.
Their 2006 album The Sun Never Sets contains four tracks that relate to war. Each takes a different viewpoint and they vary their musical style accordingly. They don’t provide a simplistic ”NO WAR” message or a chorus that can be sung at a rally, but they do encourage listeners to consider and engage with the subject.
The Herd give their listeners the credit they deserve, rather than attempting to ram pre-formed messages down their throat. Their latest album, Summerland, has many more examples of thoughtful, engaged and intelligent political music – it is multifaceted music, a world away from the crude stereotypes that dominate mainstream media representations of younger people today.
The current generation of younger people are not the first to suffer from generational attacks, but recent examples display a more personal edge than those of the past. The branding of an entire generation as selfish, unwilling to make commitments, apathetic and apolitical is a serious affront. The use of derogatory and trite labels such as ”Generation Why?” appear to be standard practice. The assertion that younger musicians do not reach the standards of the ‘’spirit of the ’60s” is consistent with these broader attacks on younger people.
Woodstock should be remembered as a great music festival, but its inclusion in ‘’spirit of the ’60s” reminiscing helps to sustain negative representations of younger people today. Sure, celebrate Woodstock and the 1960s (at least, the parts people can remember) but don’t do it at the expense of younger generations.

Alex Kaiser is a PhD candidate in the school of social and political sciences at the University of Melbourne.