In 1981, four kids from Boston released what is arguably the the best indie rock 12" of all time. Simply 20 minutes of impossibly catchy pop hooks twisted around barbed-wire basslines, sandpaper guitars, and battlefield drumming, each note, each word just one notch beyond the breaking point. It was punk, but it was unexpectedly competent punk, and at the core the album itself was an admission that there were limits to how far one could legitimately go in the fight for musical honesty. This stark admission began a new era in independent music.
Read on to understand the love affair...
The 70's had seen a musical revolution, a revolution in which battles were being waged by the likes of Lou Reed, Iggy Pop, and Sid Vicious in the name of dirty nihilism and gritty purity. Yet this war was grinding toward a heartbreaking end, toward a finale of brutal attrition, an apocalypse in which the foot-soldiers would literally sacrifice their lives for the cause. Though countless punk bands of that decade would have been honored to lead the charge into the discordant abyss, Mission of Burma looked at the approaching cataclysm and chose to bear the standard in a long march away from that end. With Signals, Calls, and Marches, the band sent up a flare that illuminated a path for the next two decades, a trail strewn with guitars amped past the point of feedback, droning tape loops, and a rather uncomfortable sincerity.
Mission of Burma helped popularize the characteristic irony that has blessed and plagued indie rock for the past 20 years. Perhaps we can only laugh that it was during the peak of the reaction against irony in indie rock that Mission of Burma once again took the stage. For the first time since 1983, the band, intact save Martin Swope, came together for a handful of shows. One should not question their motivation -- their legacy stands on its own as one of integrity and deserves respect.
And yet it is that same unquestionable integrity that gives rise to a dilemma. Mission of Burma, long secure in their place among the independent rock pantheon, staged their reunion shows with the support of the least independent and the most commercial entities in the business: Clear Channel and TicketMaster. Beyond that, their old label, Rykodisc, is apparently less than independent these days as well.
The second part is forgivable. In the mid-eighties, Mission of Burma signed with Rykodisc to reissue their brief back catalog of LP's and EP's. At the time, Rykodisc was a natural choice -- they seemed dedicated to avoiding the majors, they specialized in CD releases and re-releases before anyone else did, and they had proved themselves by helping Frank Zappa out from under EMI. Credit can also be given to the band for releasing their older tapes with the respectable, and still independent, Taang! Records. But Rykodisc, in spite of of claiming that "[their] diverse but vertically integrated businesses make Rykodisc even more unique in the world of independent labels", are contributing members of the RIAA. Which begs the question as to what it means to be independent, though this question ought to be posed to Rykodisc directly.
But why would Mission of Burma book their only announced date of 2004 at Irving Plaza? Not only is that venue acoustically inferior to the similarly sized and independent Bowery Ballroom (which has the same owners as the Mercury Lounge), but Irving Plaza is owned and operated by Clear Channel. Moreover, Irving Plaza has a policy of not letting you in to 21+ shows unless you hand over your driver's license and let them scan it. While this may be a convenient way of verifying your age, it also gives Clear Channel your name, your address, and your social security number (which doubles in most cases as your driver's license number). Not what you want, considering that this company has consistently acted against the best interests of the public.
And while $25 a ticket is high, it isn't totally unreasonable for the occasional reunion show. But the tickets are on sale by TicketMaster, a company with a "no" privacy policy, a history of anti-trust complaints, and exorbitant "convenience charges". In the case of this particular show, TicketMaster tacks on an additional $7.05 per ticket, or 28% of the total ticket price. That's almost a $30 fee if you buy just four tickets.
In the same way it would be nonsensical to discard stacks of CDs simply because their label's RIAA affiliation, one wouldn't want to turn down a pair of Mission of Burma tickets. But even though they are still on sale, realize that a huge percentage of the money one spends on those tickets will end up funding Clear Channel and TicketMaster. And remember that until labels like Rykodisc rediscover what it means to be independent, there are many other struggling artists out there that still believe in the message that Mission of Burma declared so clearly twenty years ago.