Did we just save bFM? 'It buys us some time'
Did we just save bFM? 'It buys us some time'
After a stunning fundraising gig, station manager Tom Tremewan tells me if the student radio station has found a way to survive.
“In heaven, everything is fine,” cooed Princess Chelsea.
The Tāmaki Makaurau-based singer’s vocals were gentle and soothing.
But behind her was a racket that was anything but.
Someone twanged on a harp.
Someone blew a giant pink trumpet as loud as they could.
Someone hunched over their guitar delivering a blistering riff.
The drummer thrashed it out.
It felt chaotic.
It felt unhinged.
It was awesome.
At that moment, about an hour into a one-night fundraiser for student radio station bFM, Auckland’s Town Hall felt messy and dangerous.
Yet, thanks to the way Princess Chelsea delivered the chorus for ‘In Heaven’ – a cover of a song from David Lynch’s film Eraserhead – it came across as delightful carnage, like a nihilistic cacophony fronted by an ironic angel.
Then it got louder. Further behind the singer, a band mate sat at the Town Hall’s giant organ to pipe doom-laden chimes around the venue.
It might be the most noise I’ve ever heard delivered on that stage – and that’s coming from someone who once saw Marilyn Manson keep playing through a fire alarm while screaming into a microphone shaped like a knife.
It all felt very bFM.
And so it should.
On Wednesday night, a plethora of student radio-supported acts came together to support the once-mighty, now-struggling station that sold off its vinyl collection and required an end-of-year fundraiser to keep the lights on.
How close is it to closing the doors for good?
“People have assumed BFM is doing okay when that is not the case,” station manager Tom Tremewan told me in October.
“There’s this big hole that we’re in.”
So the cavalry arrived to dig them out.
That meant we got Marlon Williams channeling his delicious devil-may-care Laneway attitude next to his former touring buddy Delaney Davidson for a rowdy reunion show.
We got Concord Dawn throwing down nostalgic drum & bass bangers with Matt Harvey and Evan Short taking turns on the decks like it was 2004 all over again.
We got Voom – or, as one punter next to me put it, “Who the fuck is ‘Zoom?’” – playing a typically tight set of pop-rock anthems that confirmed the band’s status as our biggest musical enigmas.
Then we got Shihad.
Holy shit did we get Shihad.
Shihad did not need to be that aggressive.
Shihad did not need to go that hard.
Shihad’s four members are all in their 50s now and they played a one-hour set that was about as intense as I’ve ever seen them play.
Shihad played all of Churn, their furiously fast Jaz Coleman-produced debut from 1994, and went so hard it was impossible not to grin from ear to ear the entire time.
It was a set that made the guy in front of me so happy he attempted to air drum and air guitar at the same time for the entire set.
With a one-song encore of ‘See You Again’, Shihad gave the night the frenetic thrash-metal full stop it needed in front of a crowd united by a common goal.
Most had grown up listening to bFM.
Most still listen to bFM.
All of us came together to ensure we can continue enjoying bFM for many years to come.
I loved the energy in the venue.
I loved the vibe on the stage.
It felt spirited and alive.
So, how’d we do?
Did we save bFM?
Not quite.
“It buys us some time,” says Tremewan.
The station manager chose his words carefully when I called him after the show.
“It puts us in the best possible position to go forward and not be holding on for dear life,” he told me.
“It's really helped kickstart our ongoing journey for a sustained sustainability plan.”
Clearly, there’s still work to do.
“Without the record sale and without this massive fundraiser, we would be many steps backwards,” Tremewan says.
“It's like the cheesy tagline for a shitty sci-fi trilogy where the protagonist says: ‘But the journey has just begun.’”
But Tremewan is buoyed by the concert. It’s shown him that bFM has an incredibly loyal community built up over the years.
They’re ready and willing to support the station in any way they can.
It’s something he hopes to build on next year.
“It was just so full to the brim of aroha, not just for the station, but the community behind us,” he says.
“The hero's journey for BFM and the future is going to be to bring all the listeners along for the ride.
“So it was really beautiful … and a really big success.
“Everyone can sleep well … for the time being.”
A Givealittle page is open for ongoing donations to keep bFM going.
Some holiday reading for you…
Some wise soul at NZ Herald asked veteran music journalist Karl Puschman to put together his top 10 local albums of the year ($). It’s full of clear cut winners (Erny Belle, Home Brew) and some wild cards (Kédu Carlö, Pickle Darling). It’s excellent. I plan to spend a lot of time with these albums over the break.
TikTok is changing the music industry so fast no one is capable of keeping up. It’s making time fold in on itself as old songs become hits again, and niche sub genres become bigger than ever. If anyone can make sense of Recorded Music’s Top 40 Songs of the Year, please get in touch. Meanwhile, Stereogum points out why a college student’s shoegaze song has more streams than My Bloody Valentine.
Look, I’m an old man and I’m comfortable telling the world that I like old man rap. Billy Woods and Your Old Droog are my shit. So I’ve perused all the best-of lists, discarded the ones that don’t include Danny Brown and JPEGMAFIA’s Scaring the Hoes, and decided that Brooklyn Vegan’s top 25 is the best of the lot.
Finally, I haven’t read a better summation of the sorry state of media than Ted Gioia’s recent examination of macro vs micro culture via his The Honest Broker newsletter. He points out that legacy media organisations like newspapers and film studios are flatlining, while individual content creators – include newsletter writers – are soaring. Rather than being depressed about it, he’s hopeful. I am too. Honestly the past few months writing this newsletter and the feedback I’m getting from you lot have made me think there may be a future in what I’m doing, here on Substack. My fingers and toes are crossed for what might happen in 2024.
Barring any last minute brain explosions, that’s pretty much me for 2023. Thanks for being here, for showing up, for contributing and keeping my lil’ old newsletter going. I’ll be back in January with a two-part story I can’t wait to tell you about. Until then, enjoy your holiday. After this year, we all earned it. See you in 2024 :)
Great review, Princess Chelsea really was unhinged and I wish she had had a later and longer set...as for Shihad omg that was quite something.. Town Hall works well for these evening minifests.
I appreciate your optimism, Chris.
A nice way to sign off for 2023.
But if you're old, then I'm ancient. And for what it's worth - your writing has widened my music palette, and knocked a few years off of the average recording I've listened to.
The concert, and support for bFM is fantastic. Pretty sure my godson was there.
"They’ve been so good to me and my various bands. Save the B!" was the text I received from him upon learning they were in financial trouble.
I love your image of the audience member air multi-instrumentalist, Chris.
I abandoned my best-of 2023 as soon as I realised that I'd spent the best part of the year hoarding new old cds - a new old pastime inspired by a desire to withdraw somewhat from streaming platforms. And acquiring old vinyl from Slow Boat....and thrift stores - a less new pastime.
(I was sad to read that bFM had sold off their collection to "keep the lights on").
Outside of the new music to my ears mentioned in your Substack, 2023 has very much been a year of retrospection for me - musically speaking.
Woodie Guthrie Songs to Grow On, my favourite vinyl discovery. A great folksy addition to my great niece's music education.
Does there exist a kiwi kid who can't hum along to Riding In My Car?
Wishing you a safe, relaxing and joyful christmas holiday period.
Thank you for the music.
I look forward to reading more from you in 2024.
Ngā mihi nui. 🍻