Kinky Star

You write songs. You find the perfect band member and start a band. You put your heart, soul, money, sweat, blood and tears into the project. You decide to abandon all ideas of surviving doing anything else, because you can't do anything else (you either get canned or quit every job you've ever had). You focus on the project, playing as much as possible. Everywhere from the streets to art galleries to elementary schools to forests to living rooms. The project gets a good reaction. It catches on. People like what you're doing and offer you shows, shows and more shows. You win a contest, get lots of money and tour Europe. The reaction is positive. You record an EP. You make four music videos. A year later you record an album. You get signed to Capsule Records. Everything is looking up and up.

But even though everything is going swimmingly well, there are low points. Undoubtedly. It's inevitable. And when you have small low points, in the midst of all of this goodness, it doesn't matter, does it? At least, it shouldn't... and in the end, it really doesn't.

Okay, I'm writing this in third (second?) person. This is about us; Trike.

Last week was really really good and productive, but one of the low points was when we got a rejection email that it would be sinful not to write about. The story behind this one particular rejection is begging to be told. This is the story of Kinky Star rejecting Trike.

First, some background:

Last year we toured Europe, playing 75 shows in 9 countries. It was a smashing success. We left Europe with tears in our eyes and sunshine in our hearts. Some shows were shitty, some were mind-blowingly awesome. More good shows than bad, which is ... y'know ... good.

When we were on tour, I got an email from Remo Siemons, who I used to play with in a band called Shortcut (www.shortcut.by) in Holland. (We did an album of 1 to 2 minute songs; the entire album amounting to about 30 minutes. The project was also short-lived, sticking to the theme; short songs, short set-lists, short shelf-life). He said "try Ghent. It's a music city. There's a place called Café Vidéo, below Das Pop's rehearsal space". So I did. So, I emailed them. No response, but at least I tried.

Soon enough we found ourselves playing in Belgium and decided to hang out in Ghent, to look for venues/shows. Xania walked the streets, going from venue to venue, dropping off CDs. Charleton, Tanneke Lange and Kinky Star, to name a few. The pock-faced owner of Tonneke Lange allowed us to open for a very tight Beatles cover band. The response was great so we booked another show for a month later. Then, we met Maarten de Schrijver (actually means "Maarten the Writer"); a lovely young philosophy student) through couchsurfing.org and he arranged it so that we could play at a buffet for his fellow philosophy students. It was a blast. We played, sold CDs and chatted about Nietzsche.

But Xania couldn't stop talking about Kinky Star "It's small but really charming. It's made for us!" she said. She had her heart set on playing there. She talked to the people there, who gave her the booker (who I will refer to as Biff)'s email. She wrote him and he expressed interest in having us. We already had the show in Tonneke Lange, so he didn't want to book us then, but promised to have us at a later date. We were optimistic.

We played the show at Tonneke Lange, which was a great success. The place was packed.

We left Ghent with hopes of returning again. Maarten was going to help us get a show before we ended our tour but it just didn't happen.

We returned to Canada and started booking Europe yet again. Yes, we're addicted. Maarten arranged for us to play at Krawietel.

We began our second Euro Tour. Two weeks in we played at Krawietel. It was a BLAST! The place was packed. The bartenders were dancing behind the bar. People responded really well! People jogged with us during "Let's Jog". It was our best, funnest show in Ghent. We were paid well. We drank well. They fed us. We sold six CDs and got loads of emails. The owner, Tom, said it was "the BEST audience reaction from any band that has ever played" there. Wow. We were blown away. Even the metal-heads in the audience got into it.

We also got a spot on Kinky Star radio. It was fun. We played three tunes (from the CD) and got interviewed. We plugged our website. We thought playing on their radio station was a shoe-in to getting a show at Kinky.

We knew we had to return. We had fans. We felt like we had a future there. Xania was still thinking about Kinky Star. She wrote Biff again. He wrote back:

"Hi Xania,

sorry, I couldn't make it at the show last Monday. But listened to the radio show ;-)

To be honest with you I'm not that enthousiastic of Trike and I'm not that interested to have you for a live show at Kinky Star, I'm sorry.
Though I wish you all the best with your music!

thx for keepin up the good work!

ciao

Luc"

What the EFF? Are you kidding? What's with the "keep up the good work" that he automatically staples onto every email? The subtext to this disturbing, schizophrenic email seems to be: "I don't like your music. You suck. But, keep up the good work". She wrote back, pressing him for a reason. He responded:

"Hi Xania,

very sorry, but we have so many offers that I need to do a strong selection and just not good enough for me.
The KS radio show people are working independently from the rest and from me.
thx for keepin up the good work
ciao
Luc"

"Not good enough?" Tell that to the audience at Krawietel. What pretention! Okay fine, you could say at least he responded... he was just being honest. Was he? Was he really? And who in their right mind would email that to a band? It's mean. And again, closing the mail with "keep up the good work". If it's good, why aren't we playing at your stupid venue? Why would you say we're "not good enough" if we're doing "good work"? Even if you don't like the music; even if you HATE the music, you can say something critical without dismissing the band as "not good" without a single indication as to why you would offer such a rude, obnoxious comment. It's unkind and uncalled for.

This rejection email came a few days ago. We get rejections. Of course we do. We email sometimes 50 venues in one day. Of course we get rejections. And, a lot of people don't know what we're about, and sometimes the music/videos etc. don't properly convey it. A lot of it is in the performance. I realize that. It's in the energy onstage. A lot of people say "it's not right for our venue". Okay. Fine. Not everyone is down with synth-dance-pop. But "not good enough"? What does that mean? Expand, please. Do we sing off key? Is it boring? Bland? Unremarkable? Forgettable? Not catchy enough? What does "not good enough" mean?

I don't like rejection. Never have and probably never will. I mean, who the fuck does? We got eight shows last week and a few rejections and yet it's this rejection that digs into me. But to put things in perspective, it's not just your average rejection, but a rejection from a place that originally wanted us and emailed back and forth for over a year before sending a rejection email. It just feels unfair. After all of that communication? I feel like Luc,... oops, I mean Biff played us like a yoyo. Up and down, up and down, up and... If, in the end, they decided they weren't as excited about us as they were a year ago (which makes zero sense), they could at least book us anyway, after so much emailing and nice words said about us.

Fine. They won't get us. There are other places, better places, places that are willing to give us a chance, because we're not your average fucking bar band. We interact. We get crazy and spastic. We put on a show. We won't stand there and stare at our neon green shoelaces. We will engage the audience, because it's essential and it's who we are.

As a postscript, Xania was talking to somebody at Krawietel and said "I really wanna play at Kinky Star" and they responded with "You don't wanna play there. Nobody goes there, anymore". She said her enthusiasm to play there died when she heard those nine words.

What can I say? Sounds like karma to me.