Candid Cameras :: Wessex Scene Online

Candid Cameras

10th October 2003
Rich Heap

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All rock stars are liars. This is obvious. The leather jacket is like a 21st century cloak, creating an aura of mystery and mythology, shrouding the rock star’s true self from fans, journalists and public consumption.

And it’s also like a suit of armour so that the poisoned arrows of criticism are never any danger to the real person, instead just bouncing off something totally artificial. The best rock stars aren’t actually rock stars at all. The best rock stars are themselves; real people at the eye of a storm of outdated rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle bullshit. If you’ve ever been disappointed by one of your heroes then you’ll understand what I’m saying because you fell in love with the pristineness of the saleable image and the real person didn’t match up. Don’t worry... it happens to us all. Luckily Joel Gibb, driving force behind Canada’s The Hidden Cameras, is different.

First, he doesn’t kick out the jams, but that’s not the main thing. Rather than try so hard to build up an image, Joel is doing something that’s both potentially easier and harder. He’s trying to strip back the layers of superficiality to find something truly real. It’s like a road trip: the destination isn’t as important as the actual act of travelling. It is, if you can excuse the weak pun, all about the process. Well, I guess they’ll just have to see what develops. So the beauty of The Hidden Cameras is in the child-like naivety of the act of searching, and that’s where the excitement lies. That’s why the usually dour Wedgewood Rooms have come to life.

Joel Gibb and company have spread some love, have created an oasis of joy and excitement and energy in the heart of Portsmouth. They’re searching, content to pose questions and confident in their current inability to answer them. They’re trying to challenge, to create a dialogue, like with Ban Marriage’s critique of gay weddings: “The thing about that song is that it’s about all sorts of things. It’s about attacking re-writing the Bible... [because] where do you draw the line? Can you just change scripture to suit any particular lifestyle or political idea? Because that disrupts the very idea of having a faith. And it’s also attacking straight unions, as well as gays trying to fit into this really archaic, straight, humbling institution that really needs to be questioned itself. Instead of wasting your energy trying to legalise [gay] marriage, I think these gay men should be creating a dialogue about what marriage means. We’ve already established that families don’t have to be a man and a woman, it can be anybody, and so do we penalise people who never fall in love and get married? I mean, people are financially benefited by marriage, so why not turn out of it so that the wealth can be distributed to single mums or single dads or people who don’t want to get married?”

Lots of issues there, all of them worth thinking about. But as well as questioning the world, religion, and so on, The Hidden Cameras directly confront their listeners, like with the lyrics to The Man That I Am With My Man: “Well that song’s designed to be completely overt. And if you’re drawn to the melody... then you’ll be forced to sing something homoerotic. It kind of weeds people out.”

Believe it or not there’s a homosexual element to The Hidden Cameras, clearly an intensely personal element for Joel, who admits that it sometimes gets “a bit stressful reading what everyone [writes] about the really personal things.” But the fact that the vivid lyrical depictions of gay sex may prove uncomfortable for listeners provides both a confrontation and an interesting juxtaposition with the beauty of the instantly accessible choral, symphonic pop. While the music is appealing and affecting, the lyrics may force you to face your own prejudices. Which is a good thing because those prejudices are baseless and meaningless, rooted in outdated fear and primitive tribalism. And once you’ve done this then everything falls into place and you can understand the true essence of The Hidden Cameras, that while the homosexuality is so in you face, it is also incidental.

“Not everybody in the band is gay,” he says for maybe the ten millionth time, enforcing the simple truth that it isn’t a gay thing, or a straight thing. It’s a love thing maaaan, plain and simple. Not in a backwards-looking Woodstock kind of way, but perfectly rooted in today’s political and social climate. And once you hear their music you won’t be able to help falling in love with them too. To employ a tired old cliché it’s like peeling an onion except it isn’t bitter and it doesn’t sting your eyes. But it may make you want to cry.

So, so far we’ve established that The Hidden Cameras inspire both your heart and your mind, but what about everything else? What about your senses? Sound, sight, smell, taste and touch.

Well, they’ve got all of them covered too, in one way or another. Sound? Obvious. Sight? Well, their usual stage show includes a visual feast, an assault of film and overhead projection, marshalled by around fifteen members, including male go-go dancers. Unfortunately, due to financial restrictions, they haven’t been able to bring it all out on this tour (their May support slot with Australia’s The Sleepy Jackson), instead stripping it down to six key members. Not that Joel has any problem with this, due to both pragmatism and the constantly changing nature of The Hidden Cameras: “It’s not like [the usual show is] the ideal that needs to be shoved up people’s throats forever.”

So is it going to keep getting bigger? “Well, either that or taking people away, doing smaller shows. I mean, we could do it with no dancers. We’re not this band that always has to have this dance element. Sometimes in Toronto we play with no dancers, because it’s my best friend that does it, so if he doesn’t want to do it then he doesn’t do it. And he doesn’t want to come on tour because he has his own art career to deal with. There’s never been the intention to create a static show. It’s all about process.” But we’ve got three more senses left, so how can they possibly appeal to all of these? Well, much of it is in the lyrics, evoking sensations of touch, taste and, of course, smell. You just need the bravery to let the music immerse you, brave enough to let it seep through your flesh and cynicism.

But one final question: why the blindfolds in the promo shots? “Well, when you’re blinded then your sense of smell is heightened. I think the whole album’s about that, especially [in Smells Like Happiness] which is a whole list of smells, and it’s also about creating an identity through smells. I mean, the smells in a dirty gay club are the same in all these different cities. It’s a unique smell and I just thought blindfolds would be appropriate. Also, [a blindfold is] kind of a weapon to try and hide your identity. I mean, identity is almost a commodity nowadays, even though it’s something that’s almost sacred, and it’s about keeping that to yourself.” Simultaneously intensely personal and brazenly public, this is the glorious contradiction of The Hidden Cameras, a contradiction rooted in an active search for the truth and enacted in a shower of infectious happiness.

And if you’re still not tempted to check them out then you’re either a fool, a coward, or a bit of both.