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Brady Smith, TagTeam Records and The Lamentable Decline Of The Handshake By Ed Peto (Red T Music/Stiff Ass Brit) Not so long ago I was asked to play in a tag American Football tournament in Beijing by a Coloradan friend of mine. Being a lapsed rugby playing Englishman this seemed like a good wheeze, so I readily accepted. On the day, my friend and I arrived late, walked over to the large group of Americans at the end of the pitch and began the introductions. "Hi, I'm Brady Smith" said the first guy, as he held out a hand in welcome. After a curt, friendly shake I began to move onto the next person. Brady Smith had other ideas however and had gone on to manouvre the handshake into an inversely perpendicular clenched arrangement even as my body was turning [This is where I might have to start making up handshake descriptives to keep up with the pace of the action]. I looked down in surprise at the hand melee I had been unwillingly dragged into but had to adapt fast as Brady Smith manouvred again into an 'upwards double clench' and then straight into an 'arm-knuckle linear alignment' which I assumed we were meant to bang together. We weren't. As I pumped my knuckles forward, Brady Smith raised his clenched fist, pounded it down on mine and then walked away leaving me baffled and in no small amount of pain. Before I could assess what had just happened, the second American posited another handshake. "Hi. I'm Charter Porter". We gripped hands and immediately moved from the 'Traditional Handshake' that is my habit to a 'loose finger clench', through a 'palm slide' and then up into the 'upwards double clench' which, upon recognising from the first encounter, I managed to execute with some proficiency. "Hi. Smith Brady", said the third as I drew away from Charter Porter. "Smith Brady?!" I replied incredulously. "That's right buddy" he reaffirmed as he reached his hand forward. I was getting a little tired of the whole affair now and felt a combative urge developing along with my handshaking confidence. "Alright Smith Brady. I'm Ed Peto, let's see what you've got". Taking the early initiative I forced him into a 'downward double clench' and then immediately moved into a 'loose finger hold'. Recognising the steely determination in my eyes, he cut off my attempt at a 'palm slide' and responded with an 'upward double clench', but he was not to know that I was now familiar with this tactic and I immediately dragged him down to the 'arm-knuckle linear alignment' and raised my fist for the conclusive 'smack down'. I had obviously underestimated the depth of the average American's handshake arsenal though as Smith Brady deftly, and with blinding speed, lunged forward, grabbed my forearm and pulled us together in an awkward semi-hug in which, in primal terms, he was clearly the dominant alpha male. He pushed me away as though discarding a bag of baby poo and walked off leaving me to internally grapple with my new found beta male inadequacies in a breathless slouch. Confidence shattered I was unable to hide my annoyance as the fourth came towards me, introducing himself as "Porter Smith". "You're taking the piss with these names?" I said in exasperation. "Are you all related?". "Not all of us" replied Porter Smith, "I'm Charter's half brother though. Brady is Smith's cousin while Cunningham Smith over there is my full brother and Porter Cunningham is a friend from...". I couldn't take it any more. I cut him off mid flow, grabbed his hand and locked him into the firmest 'Traditional Handshake' I could muster. Staring him straight in the eye, I shook slowly and deliberately as he wriggled to adopt any one of the myriad moves no doubt in his repertoire. It was useless though, I wasn't letting go. I had him beaten. I let go my vice-like grip and pulled away triumphantly. Just as I was about to walk off he raised both his hands above his head, pointed them down towards me in 'Glock Pistol' fashion and yelled "GANGSTAAAAA!!!". [Stunned silence] Brady Smith, Charter Porter, Smith Brady, Porter Cunningham and Cunningham Smith all carried on as though this was normal. By now I believed that it might be, so I acquiesced and got on with a days worth of football that was punctuated by high fives, chest bumps, whoops, hollers, "GAAAANNNNGSTAAAAAA"s and other scattered idioms and exclamations, none of which I was conversant in. So, how does this fit in with TagTeam Records? My relationship with Tagteam is much the same as my relationship with Brady Smith et al. I might approach Tagteam Supremo Matt Kagler with a straight 'traditional handshake' of a comment such as "I enjoyed the second Arctic Monkey's album" and he would come back with "Dude, it's not as rad as Blast Fungus' new album on Secretly Candian", to which I might reply "Oh, I haven't heard tha....", "Yeah, it's totally rad. It sounds similar to ChumpPants or Willy Harvest on Sub Pop", he would interrupt. "I don't know any of those bands" I would say miserably, indie credentials shattered. I might push the boat out and wear an ironic t-shirt to a gig. I would inevitably arrive to find the Tagteamers wearing sheepskin hunting hats, cowboy shirts, white belts, pencil ties, even more ironic t-shirts than mine, beaten up converse trainers and impossibly cool facial hair. Matt has a ginger beard for goodness sake. In the same way that a solid handshake is no longer enough to greet an American effectively, a solid line of conversation alone isn't effective when greeting a Tagteamer. Unless you come at them guns blazing, sporting white winkle pickers, lambchop side-burns and a rainbow cravat, with a mental list of obscure bands primed and ready to go, then you are in for the indie credential equivalent of an 'arm knuckle linear alignment smack down'. You see, here at Red T Music, we are British. We shake people firmly by the hand, we look them in the eye, we say "huzzah!" a lot. Sadly though, this is the antithesis of indie cool and it is never more obvious than when we are around TagTeam. As a stiff and awkward Brit I am unable to employ the words 'dude' and 'rad' with the same louche authenticity; On the rare occasions I have been asked to high five one of them, I have panicked (as all Brits do) and muddled the situation into an awkward mid-air 'vertical hand clasp'; I don't know how to dance at gigs, preferring to nod my head sternly throughout; I wear button down shirts; I wash; I don't know how to 'chillax'; I don't know who Spunk Pussy are, nor do I know their record label Piss-Pots. That's not to say that we here at Red T Music don't 'rock our own style', it just has more to do with sartorial elegance and impeccable manners. In short, like me and Porter Cunningham, Tag Team and Red T Music would not have gotten along at school. Against all the odds, however, we are firm friends with Tag Team now. At least they shake hands properly.

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