As a teenager with a bass guitar and a band to play in (some 30 years ago), I could only dream of a future world where my aspiration of carving a career in the world of popular music would be respected.
Respect wasn't to be had and my plans were usually
pigeon-holed as folly. (Not by my parents, mind you.)
So my cohorts and I used the older generation as a perfect foil to bash our fierce wills against.
On the May 1 just gone, I drove down Mountain Rd and saw the huge Lion Breweries billboard on the street corner. It featured a lion holding an electric guitar in the air and the proclamation underneath, "We Love NZ Music".
I stopped at the green light (like everyone used to do in front that Elle Macpherson billboard) and shouted out loud. Nothing intelligible, mind you. Just a guttural, primal moment of release.
That moment in time when it becomes clear that the war has been won and the change is made. And I tell you - it felt good.
Michael D. Higgins, the once Irish minister of the arts, was in New Zealand in the dark mid-90s when the knights of the Business Roundtable and a complacent, too-long-in-power government were in bed together (sleeping most of the time).
He said: "The artistic culture of a country starts with the government. Only when the government understands, encourages and respects artistic endeavour will it flourish on a large scale".
Well, blow me down, he was right.
This Labour Government, when in Opposition, listened hard and when voted into power moved fast. It saw the potential of the music industry to stimulate young people's imaginations in a world where Anglo-American media fodder was bludgeoning them.
It realised music requires a raft of skills - performance, presentation, teamsmanship, ambition, self-determination and integrity. A heady mix for any citizen and some distance from the secure world of working "for the man".
The nine-to-five routine brings with it such priorities as turning up on time and getting the job done. In return you receive a regular wage and the luxury of being able to leave it all behind when you walk out the door at 5pm.
Musicians and music writers don't walk out any door at 5pm.
The commitment to a musical career is - in their own parlance - a 24/7 gig and God bless them all. And society at large now understands this.
Society at large wishes them the best in their drive, in their energy, in their entertainment - in their music.
Last month, radio stations over the entire country focused on New Zealand music.
Television channels took time out to burn the bright yellow logo into viewers' eyes. This newspaper ran stories that highlighted the breadth of our musical genres.
The Auckland library held seminars for young musicians and hosted original artists. Thousands of people turned out for three nights of the best New Zealand talent at the True Colours festival. The cokesmokefreerockquest rolled through the country. And that was just a sample.
The energy was palpable; the sense of celebration was real.
The New Zealand music industry flourishes. New Zealand music races up the single and album charts. Our music on commercial radio is up 500 per cent over the last six years. It will increase as the radio local content code moving to 20 per cent rolls out over the next five years.
What a great time to be a teenager - male or female - walking into a music store and buying an electric guitar. If that is you, long may you run.
* Mike Chunn is the director of operations for the Australasian Performing Right Association and a former Split Enz member.
As a teenager with a bass guitar and a band to play in (some 30 years ago), I could only dream of a future world where my aspiration of carving a career in the world of popular music would be respected.
Respect wasn't to be had and my plans were usually
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