Studio Brussels are using some of my photos on their site. They did not ask permission to do so, even when it was specifically stated the copyright was mine and all use required my express permission. When I called them on it, they apologised and I let them continue using the pictures. I’m not that difficult.
Last night, the veteran DJ of the programme using the pictures vented his frustration with the people ON them during his show. Very loosely translated it came down to this: ‘I saw them play live back in the 80s and they were uninspired and pretentious’ (1), ‘They were drunk when I interviewed them’ (2), ‘Their DJ set sucked, Fleetwood Mac was about the most exciting thing they played.’ (3), ‘You only need to buy one of their albums to know what they’re like.’ (4).
This DJ had not prepared his questions very well (‘Did you ever sell your soul to the devil?’), he mispronounced the band’s name and got the name of their record company wrong as well. He fucked up. Consequently the interview was a bit of a trainwreck. He was eaten alive by two charismatic artists having a laugh. On stage, in front of 250 of their fans in Ancienne Belgique. Ouch. Even heavily edited, the interview sounded painful on radio. You know you have a problem when the fans’ questions get a better response from the artists.
I felt sorry for him at the time, though I could not understand why he hadn’t prepared properly. Now I wonder why he took the job in the first place. If you don’t like an artist, why put yourself in that position?
I have asked Studio Brussels to remove my pictures from their site a.s.a.p. as I do not want my work to be associated with this level of frankly unprofessional behaviour.
1. More pretentious than The Fall, who they were supporting-uh?
2. No, they weren’t. We did, however, get hammered afterwards.
3. I heard Fischerspooner, Joy Division, Brel, T Rex, Mingus…
4. Mr DJ, you fight like a girl.
I still have to write about my weekend in Brussels with those two mad Irish bastards and one London gent. Rest assured I’m working on it, scribbling down my impressions in a notebook on my way to and from work. Cause I’m an ‘amateur’.