I’ve spent time fi*****ng all sorts of musical pies on all sides of this planet and I’ve managed to emerge out the other side of what has become something of a c**t of an industry, with my head above water. And whilst the majority of my record label pals spend their days sat round boardroom tables, sh****ng bricks over the so-called demise of the recording industry, I see an opportunity. Unlike my
counterparts, I don’t lament the end of the so-called golden age of recorded music. Really, now that I look back on it, I recall an industry that developed rapidly to meet the demands of an explosive new industry and then a gradual, strangle-hold decline of the models it built, whose final death rattles, we might say we are in ear shot of, right now. This is the most exciting time for music since the late 1950’s. I predict that out of the sh*t-factor shaped pile of spew that pools at our feet, will rise a new era of music and musicians. One in which the musician is king. Not once again, but for the first time. And it’s happening already. People are hard at work in their bedrooms, churning out music for its own sake, because there isn’t any other reason left. Simply put, the musical cosmos is righting itself. Wasted Years is a label for a new era. It isn’t hung up on the past and it isn’t here to determine the future. It’s here to watch and listen and to share what it hears, only because it’s worth hearing.
