2. Getting a review

Some guidelines by Nightshift editor Ronan Munro

It seems, to me at least, basic common sense to do a few simple things when sending a demo off for review. But a lot of bands don’t seem to have any common sense. The first thing is to ask yourself if you really do want a review from the person you’re sending your demo off to.

Nightshift sometimes has a reputation for being too hard on bands. In fact, read most of the demo reviews and there will be some constructive criticism, except in the very worst cases. The thing is, some people in bands don’t take well to any kind of criticism, seeing it as a direct personal attack. Nothing could be further from the truth. We don’t know who you are, and neither will most reviewers. Any reviewer worth their salt, however, will be completely, maybe brutally, honest. This is because any reviewer worth their salt is extremely passionate about music, and with a passionate love for music comes a flipside – a dislike of what they perceive to be bad about music. So just bear this in mind. The bottom line is – and I’ve said this a few times – if you respect what the reviewer, or magazine, has to say, take their criticism on board and build on it. If you don’t respect the reviewer’s opinion, why are you even sending your demo in for review? If you want someone to dissect your paradiddles or whatever muso bullshit you’re obsessed with, send it to a muso magazine; there are plenty of them about.

Once your review has been published, don’t go complaining about it, either in person or on the internet while pretending to be a fan of your own band – it’s incredibly transparent and will just get you a bad reputation, not just from reviewers, but other bands and music fans. Remember: some of the best-loved bands in Oxford started off with pretty poor reviews but kept their dignity by simply working to get better. Just ask Dive Dive, The Samurai Seven, et al.

Once you’ve got that out of the way, the rules are simple:

• Always include proper contact details with your demo – on your accompanying letter, on the CD sleeve and on the CD itself – you’d be amazed how easily bits and pieces get separated in a busy office and a blank CD with unfamiliar music on it is unlikely to find a home.
• Stick to two or three tracks on a demo. If they’re good, the reviewer will want to hear more. Four tracks is just about acceptable but any more is going to stretch the patience of anyone who has a lot of music to listen to. It’s not because we’re cynical bastards who hate music; it’s just that there really are only so many hours in the day.
• Conversely, don’t send one-song demos off either; it gives the impression you’ve only got one idea, you’re not fully formed or you’re a novelty. Especially if the song is a novelty. The two/three track rule is also important from a quality perspective. If you’ve got two days in a studio, make the most of the time by making two of your songs sound brilliant. So often I hear demos by bands I like live and they’ve recorded their entire set in one take and rushed the mixing stage: cue substandard demo.
• Stick your best song on first. A demo is not a gig where you can leave the crowd’s favourite ‘til the end. Hit the reviewer with the best you’ve got from the off, before their attention wanders. This applies even more to A&R scouts.
• Oh yes, slight aside: don’t send unsolicited demos to record companies. No-one ever got signed this way. Not ever. A build up of reputation works far better. Playing regular gigs, either in Oxford or London and impressing promoters will do you a power of good. Record companies talk to these people regularly and a good word here is worth a million glossy demo packages. Similarly fanzine and regional press reviews.

2.1. Your accompanying letter

Ah yes, the greatest minefield of them all. The majority of bad demo reviews in Nightshift are based on letters from bands blowing their own trumpets in the most preposterous fashion. YOU might think you’re going to change the world, but rest assured, no other fucker does. Not yet anyway. Let your music do the talking. A simple, friendly (but not wacky, over-confident, attitude-laden or overly self-deprecating) note saying who you are, what you’re influences are and where you’re playing in the next couple of weeks is all anyone wants. Two pages detailing every gig you’ve ever done is a waste of time. And as for lyric sheets: don’t. Just don’t, okay? If you’re Nick Drake reincarnated, people will hear it in the music. If you’re not, it’s best that the music hides your faults. A proper demo sleeve can be a bonus; it can convey something of your character to the reviewer before they hear you, while a hand-scrawled piece of scrap paper could imply you don’t care. But again conversely, don’t go overboard with glossy artwork and press packages. It can make you look like you’ve got your priorities wrong.

A couple of very minor details to finish with. However cute or indie you think it might seem, never, ever, EVER put glitter or shiny confetti stuff in the envelope with your demo. It will fall out of the envelope and into the reviewer’s keyboard / cup of tea / cleavage and really piss them off. They will then smash your demo into tiny pieces and never listen to it. Secondly, small, possibly amusing bribes aren’t always a bad thing but they can backfire. In my case, a couple of bands have, in the past, sent me large bags of sweets to soften me up. Unfortunately, as a hardened vegetarian, I couldn’t eat the gelatine in them so it was a bit of a waste of time. A friend of mine who used to work for a national paper was diabetic and kept (possibly because she was female) getting sent chocolate with CDs. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the gesture, it’s just that it reminded her what she couldn’t have and put her in a bad mood before she even heard the demo. Nightshift, it should be stressed, likes chocolate immensely. But not as much as whisky.