Saturday, 17 November 2018
Richie Furay Delivers At The Troubadour
In the country music we're singin'"
Richie Furay did not expect to be here fifty years later, and neither did we. It's not that we saw rock music as a fad, but that we thought we'd never get old, and if per chance we did, we'd be just like our parents, wearing conservative clothing and going to classical concerts and the opera.
But it didn't turn out that way at all.
Richie Furay has had a peripatetic career, but he's always had the music in him, he's never been able to fully give up, although he tried. Most significantly in the sixties, when after failing to break through in New York City, he used an uncle's connections to work at Pratt & Whitney in Connecticut. He assured this relative that he'd be there for fifty years, get the gold watch, but when his buddy Gram Parsons insisted he listen to the Byrds album, he quit, and sent a letter to find his old friend Stephen Stills, to start over, to try once again.
Richie's letter to Stephen's dad in Central America was returned postage due, but ultimately Richie made the connection and drove to L.A. to start over with Stephen, they'd sung in a group in New York that had even been featured on the Rudy Vallee TV show, but what you think is your big chance rarely is.
And they did run into Neil Young and his hearse on Sunset Boulevard. And they pulled over to Ben Frank's to plot the Buffalo Springfield.
This you know, and so much more. Richie was reciting history from the stage, deep nuggets, but he acknowledged we were in the loop, that's what being a rock fan was, long before the internet, the rumors, the realities, we had to know them all.
And after the Springfield there was Poco. Where he gave Timothy B. Schmit a chance after Jim Messina exited the band. Last night Timothy B. said he was worried it wouldn't work out, but upstairs at the Troub, in one of the old dressing rooms, Richie told Timothy B. not to worry, he'd chosen him, he was the guy.
And then Richie moved on to the Souther, Hillman, Furay Band, whose first LP went gold, but during the recording of the second, in Miami with Tom Dowd, his heart was not in it and he quit. You see the kind woman wanted a family, they'd been separated for seven months, he wanted to be with her more than the music, or at least the fame.
And fifty one years after their meeting at the Whisky, they're still together, with thirteen grandchildren, and Richie is plying the boards again, playing the entirety of Poco's third LP, the live "Deliverin'."
But that was the second half of the show, after the break. The first half included a cornucopia of numbers, from Buffalo Springfield and his solo career and...
Richie was enjoying himself. I think even more than the assembled multitude, which was mostly over sixty, who'd been there, and knew every word. You see there's a pleasure in playing, it far eclipses the fame, which won't keep you warm at night. This was not a brief show, it was over two hours, this was about music more than saying you'd been there, this was the way it used to be.
And maybe the old Buffalo Springfield number "So and Say Goodbye" was the highlight of the first set, but the amazing thing was a recent number, "We Were The Dreamers," fit right in. You see the band could play. Which is the way it used to be. CSN couldn't hit the harmonies, just watch the "Woodstock" movie for edification. But at this late date, half a century later, in a club, Richie and his bandmates hit the notes perfectly, it was a revelation. As for the players, none of them were household names. Most were refugees from the era that was, when we all saw the Beatles on "Ed Sullivan" and picked up guitars and played. Some never gave up. They were on stage.
As for the second set, "Deliverin'"...
We couldn't afford many albums. But those we bought we knew by heart, we played them over and over again. So those in attendance were all singing along, as Richie and crew ripped through the numbers with an exuberance most twenty year olds don't display.
And when he hit "Hear That Music," penned and sung by Timothy B...
The man with the now long gray hair emerged from the wings with a lyric sheet...
I thought this would be substandard, a joke, some flubbed lines.
Some songs are forever, some are part of the passage to what comes next, even though hard core fans know them all.
Timothy B. had forgotten it, but when he stepped up to the mic it was 1971 all over again. His voice was crystal clear and he missed not a line. How Richie and Timothy can still hit the notes, sound like their young selves in their seventies, I do not know, but they do.
And the funny thing is even Jim Messina's number "You Better Think Twice" was a winner. It's been in my head all morning.
But when the show was over, after the applause continued, the band came out with Timothy B. for one more number.
Funny how the energy's still there. How when we hear this music it doesn't feel like nostalgia, but part of a long continuum. Funny how being at a show can be the same, sans seats of course. We used to take our music seriously, maybe standing is cool for punk shows, then again, these sexagenarians bravely stood throughout. It's just that our music was not background, not light and poppy and forgettable, but everything. It was the sauce that made life worth living and our records were our most prized possessions. We didn't go to the show to hang with our buddies and shoot selfies, but to connect with the gods on stage, as we closed our eyes and drifted away.
So Richie and crew were bringing us back down home where the folks are happy.
And when Richie and Timothy strode to the mics for the final number...they sang Poco's "A Good Feelin' To Know."
And it was.
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Thursday, 15 November 2018
CMA Ratings Decline
Is it television or is it the music?
Both.
Let's start with TV, we no longer live in a monoculture, the only appointment TV is the Super Bowl, not because of the game but because it's become a national holiday, many attendees at parties don't even bother to watch the contest. Television is now personalized, on demand, you only watch what you want to see and the networks and cable channels have not yet figured this out. Furthermore, people are expecting honesty and edge, something lacking from the CMAs for eternity. It's a last century show. Aw-shucks in a world where everybody's got high speed cable and LTE, where country singers rap and we're all sophisticated. The myth of flyover country is just that. People in red states don't vote Republican because they're uninformed, but because that's what they believe. But never underestimate the power of media entities to underestimate the intelligence of the audience. This is how MTV was victorious with the VMAs, they realized it was a TV show, no one cared who won, first and foremost the show must be entertaining, something the Oscars have never realized, at least not in my lifetime. The Oscars are a party for the industry, and contrary to popular belief most people don't want to hang out with these people, certainly not the business people, maybe some of the celebrities. You've got to give the people what they want, which isn't necessarily lowbrow, but if you give them popcorn all summer don't expect them to want to eat foie gras in February.
But the music...
Country is predicated on old rules. The songs are written by others, primarily about bland subjects, like house and home these days, and radio rules. Only it doesn't. Many have tuned out. And even more will. Hell, the biggest artist in today's country music, loved by both Nashville insiders and fans, is Chris Stapleton, and there's only one of him, he's honest and forthright and emphasizing the basics in songs he mostly writes, you'd think someone else would follow this formula. Authenticity rules. People want experiences. Awards shows are lousy experiences, furthermore, you have to sit through the music of all these people you don't like. So the Grammys are doomed. Trying to please everybody means you please nobody.
But country is a narrower focus.
Could it be that country is not delivering what the audience truly wants?
There are few women on country radio, but the audience is more than half female. Maybe these listeners would like to hear more women, at least a woman's viewpoint, that appeals to men too.
And Americana is shut out of the CMAs, shouldn't Jason Isbell be on every awards show? And we've already determined that the awards are secondary, so how about an up and coming artist. Is Brandi Carlile country? Arguably so. People are passionate about Brandi, is ANYBODY passionate about Carrie Underwood? She sings, she married a hockey player, but she's vapid. As for Brad Paisley... One hell of a guitarist who's completely sans charismas.
And "Mayberry" has been in reruns for half a century. Nowhere does cornpone live anymore, but we still get the cornpone jokes. It'd be like the Grammys featuring the Royal Guardsmen singing about Snoopy and the Red Baron, then again, that might be more interesting than what we've got!
So the awards show is dead and buried. Most people believe there's no reason to tune in. The time to fulfillment ratio is way off. Especially when I can pull up something I want to see on Netflix. And the competition is not only cable and on demand, but Fortnite and Facebook... The audience moved on and television hasn't even realized it.
As for the music played...
We live in an old world with an old construct. That there are only forty records on the radio, if that, and the rest don't exist. But that's patently untrue. It's a much wider world out there, and more people than ever don't believe in the top forty, and now they've got choice. The Spotify Top 50 doesn't really dominate, but those in it get all the ink and accolades and the rest of the audience shrugs its shoulders, it doesn't care.
So what we've really got is opportunity. The world has gotten broader, people want more acts, but the business infrastructure is STILL operating on a pre-internet paradigm.
This is what's going to change. For fifteen years we fought about distribution. Streaming won, it's on demand, that's it.
Now we have to focus on the content. Revolution is coming. Once again, the audience is ahead of the business. Those who follow the audience will win in the end. And the audience wants more than what we're giving them, MUCH more.
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Wednesday, 14 November 2018
Sheryl Sandberg
Why are the tireless self-promoters always the ones who fall from grace? Why do they always have blind spots? Why do we buy their act and then find out it's built on fiction?
We knew this. Sheryl Sandberg lived a charmed life with little loss, other than that of her husband ultimately, but that was after the die was cast. She went to Harvard, worked with Larry Summers, got a gig at Facebook, told us all to lean in and...
We bought it.
Oh, there was a backlash, from women who said they couldn't have it all, what with kids and transportation and... Sandberg did a bit of a mea culpa after her aforementioned husband died, but she's continued to be lionized as an upfront, honest seer, a beacon in a sea of darkness.
And now we know that isn't the case.
Now this is a dicey situation. After Me Too, it's very dangerous to attack a woman. But this isn't about women in general, after all, Ms. Sandberg is not a woman in general. She's a woman of privilege. A have in a world of have-nots. And don't the haves always tell us we're inadequate, that if we were just like them we could succeed?
But we don't have the background, the enrichment in elementary and high school. The ability to pay for an elite university.
Meanwhile, these people run the country and blanch when we tell them they are out of touch. But what's worse, nothing that happens affects their pocketbooks, they're overpaid and insulated, they can't go from hero to zero, but from hero to merely rich and possibly disgraced.
Sure, there are men who do the same thing as Sheryl. Maybe if there were more women in power her offenses would wash off of us. But since there are so few women of power, the media glommed on to her story, while doing no checking, they bought it hook, line and sinker, as if Sheryl Sandberg was the answer to all their problems.
Ain't that America.
We need heroes so we buy the b.s. of those raising their hands.
But it's not only Sheryl, it's everywhere. The CEOs with PR people... Everybody wants to be rich and famous, they've paid their dues, they believe they're entitled. They all want to be rock stars, with the trappings. Being normal is not an option. And we keep reading about YouTube stars and influencers to the point we feel inadequate, then we find out it's all b.s. Notice that you haven't been hearing about YouTube stars recently? Because to make a living you've got to work 24/7 to the point you're burned out and now all the emphasis is on esports and Instagrammers, the machine needs fodder.
The machine needed Sheryl Sandberg. And she volunteered for the job.
There are a lot more women who deserve the accolades, many faceless, bringing home the bacon and bringing up the kids, but that's not a sexy story, so that does not get covered. It bugs me when people keep jamming their story down my throat, when they're portrayed as inevitable winners, like they're better than us.
But they're not.
This is what income inequality has wrought.
This is what the internet has wrought.
This is what the media has wrought.
A small cadre of "winners" in cahoots with the fourth estate inundate us with their supposed victories.
But really they're losses.
Say it ain't so Joe.
But it really is.
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Home For The Holidays
Sometimes you try too hard.
In today's competitive market, where you can make it but the label won't put it out until it's convinced it's a hit, everybody feels the pressure, and this works against music. Whereas Eric Clapton's Christmas album seems to be a toss-off, getting a group of people together in a studio to jam, to create product as opposed to shooting for stardom, and that's why it's so great, it's REAL!
If you were alive back then, in the era of jams, when it was about the feel first and foremost, you'll get this, you'll close your eyes and you'll be at the Fillmore, swaying with the crowd, enraptured by the music.
This is the past, but it could also be the future.
You'll be stunned that this sound is still around, it's totally in the pocket, it's like running into a cousin, a college roommate, but they don't look like they used to, they've experienced, they're world-weary, just like you, they've got a tale to tell, and this is it.
Now if you need the Clapton of yore, where he's working out on his axe, play "Christmas Tears," he wails enough for any fan. But truly, Clapton's learned the lessons of his old mentor Delaney Bramlett, that less is more, and there's no upside in showing off, you've got to be in service to the song, the track.
And even though you recognize some of the titles, if you didn't read them you probably wouldn't know the track. The song is just a starting point. We haven't had this spirit since 1968, with Al Kooper's "Super Session," where people who knew how to play reinvented the songs of yore and made them brand new.
But my favorite cut on the album is "Home For The Holidays," it immediately lays down in a groove and you can't help but fall into it, you find your foot tapping, your head nodding, your body twisting, even if you've never danced in your life. This is the blues. As filtered through the English musicians who popularized the sound. And it sounds as fresh as yesterday. Sometimes you have to go back to the basics to get to the future.
This is how it was. Before MTV reinvigorated Top Forty, when it became about the hit single and only the hit single. "Happy Xmas" is of a piece, you're getting a peak into music creation not by machines, but people, then again, "Jingle Bells" is a tribute to Avicii, and done well. Yes, there is some stretching on this album, but you've got to get past the opener, "White Christmas," the lamest cut on the album, it's like they felt they had to put a recognizable track up front, as opposed to the best, whereas the album doesn't really start to swing until "Every Day Will Be Like A Holiday," the fourth cut in, when only the hard core is still listening.
You put on "Happy Xmas" and start to drift. Then you start to focus. It's like the band is in the next room over, smoking, having a few drinks, getting into it, you want to break through the wall and join the party, just be in the space where the magic is being made. This is a far cry from today's bulletproof music These tracks breathe. Primarily because no one steps out, all the players are together, a cohesive unit.
If you want to know how it once was, when an album was a statement, capturing a moment in time as opposed to a hit surrounded by dreck, all made for a theoretical audience that does not exist, listen to this.
Really, give "Happy Xmas" a play. All the way through. Even if you're an atheist. It's not about the holiday, but the music, and isn't music our religion anyway?
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Tuesday, 13 November 2018
Proving The Point
I can't remember when Clapton had a great album... You must listen.. It's brilliant..
Kindest Cheers,
Jeff Laufer
_______________________
This is the kind of stuff the papers should be covering, their upper middle class demo will eat it up. Instead I have to wait fully a month after its release to find out about it. I'm not a Christmas music guy, but I am a Clapton fan, and to the degree I've checked this out, it delivers. Forget the lyrics, it's Slowhand playing new material in his signature style, this could be a million seller if the press just glommed on to it, they're looking for something to champion, champion this! This is what so much of their audience is looking for. And they could own it, promote it, become heroes.
But they won't.
"Happy Xmas": https://spoti.fi/2qJE0NN
P.S. Don't be such a muso and reject this out of hand. You're missing the point and proving that you're still living in the last century when your opinion counted, but that skinny jean, leather jacket ethos is as dead as your iPod, today it's not about judging someone's music so much as finding something that works for you, and there's too much for any of us to fathom, to know about, so we're looking for pointers. As for one of Jeff's other tips... Ghost, sold out the Forum this Friday night and you've never heard of them, but if you listened you'd dig the sound. Oh, that's right, they don't wear skinny ties and gaze at their shoes. This is another act that could be gigantic if the press got its head out of its ass and focused a bit more on what people truly want as opposed to following trends.
The way you do this is you search on an act's name in Spotify and play their most popular track, the one with the most listens, to see if the music appeals to you. And if it does, you then go to the next most popular track and find out if the first's a fluke and if it's not you listen to more. But in case this is too much for you, here's a link to Ghost's most recent album: https://spoti.fi/2PU7ney
Oh, you're afraid of Spotify, of a free tier, you need to own your music? You officially no longer count. Don't ask me why I'm in such a pissed off mood right now, it's just that when you deal with the e-mail of wankers every day it gets to you, even though I know so many of you are reasonable.
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Election Update
Like Kyrsten Sinema. An atheist bisexual from the land of Goldwater. My, how Arizona has changed. My, how the PUBLIC has changed.
With two years to adjust to the new landscape, the media continues to get it wrong.
As for Fox News, it's lost all credibility since Hannity appeared on stage with Trump. It's no longer a news outlet, but a cheering section. Of course we knew this, but Hannity proved this. They say Roger Ailes would have never allowed this, had held back Hannity previously. All I know is I regularly listened to Fox on Sirius XM, but I won't anymore, now it's no more than an appendage of Trump, it's not worth listening for perspective, there is none.
As for the "New York Times"... What is going on there? So busy trying to appear fair and balanced, female and male, up-to-date, somehow the Gray Lady continues to miss the memo. The reporters are aggrieved at Trump's actions, but seem categorically unable to decipher the essence, the texture, the meaning. They offed Margaret Sullivan and now she's functioning as the ombudsman for the WaPo, she took the media to task for blowing the election, turns out maybe you're better off reading the WaPo than the NYT, that's what the money of a billionaire and the editorship of Marty Baron will do for you. As for the WSJ, its editorial page is so biased and often uninformed as to be laughable.
So where does this leave us?
With no direction home, in the great unknown.
Trump won and he hijacked the narrative. Last week's election taught us that some people are still biased, uninformed, voting against their own interests, fearful of change. While others will vote their pocketbook. But that's not the story of 2018. The story of 2018 is the American experiment is working. Muslim women got elected in Michigan and Minnesota, turns out most of the public has no problem with immigrants, females or gay people.
But the media doesn't know this. The same way the old Dems wouldn't come out for gay marriage, afraid of the consequences.
What are the consequences? How should you run in 2020?
Well one thing we know is those who triangulate, play on the old board, are history. They may not know it yet, but if they control the Democratic party's election they will lose next time. Discounting the progressives and running to the center is anathema. Turns out the public is hipper than the politicians, people want someone honest, who understands their problems. So it'll be interesting who runs. A new face might take charge just like in '76 with Carter, who had the musicians in his pocket. That man this time is John Hickenlooper, who told me he can win because he's lost his job and had to pivot and he specializes in listening in a state (Colorado if you're out of the loop) where there are divergent interests. You see where you came from counts. Who you are counts. That's why Bernie did so well. We want to believe you have a backbone, suddenly it's about character.
But the media keeps falling for the Trump bait. If the man lies and makes up false crises like the "caravan," maybe the media should downplay his antics. We've seen this paradigm in music forever. Alice Cooper specialized in it. Just get them talking, no matter what they say. That doesn't play in 2018. We need more analysis, and greater distance from the machine. Really, the problem isn't CNN's reporter being banned, it's that there's little reporting done by CNN to begin with, they specialize in the train-wreck, it's reality television for those with a bit more brains.
So in case you've been under a rock, as the ballots continue to be counted, Democrats are winning again and again, in many races where they were counted out. This is a blue wave of sentiment, if not numbers. And as we learned in Vietnam, it's all about hearts and minds.
What has the media done to adjust in the internet era?
Forget TV, it's just talking heads, but print media...NOTHING! The papers' idea of innovation is soft paywalls. They're all like ancient rockers, bitching about the new paradigm. But at least the rockers who've survived got the memo to go on the road, that they couldn't count on record revenue. The papers may be switching from physical to virtual, holding on to print for the same people who like CDs, but just like the ancient rockers, they're playing the same old hits.
Let's see... Two pages for op-ed. How about four pages for op-ed? How about someone who can analyze what's going on, really take the temperature of America. Because if the papers are wrong about the election, and they are, the question arises...
What else are they wrong about?
Note: I'll tell you one thing the media's wrong about, that the major labels are wrong about, WE DON'T LIVE IN A HIP-HOP NATION! At best we live in a cacophonous nation, where a great swath of the public is being ignored, he or she who addresses it will triumph in the future, that's the disruption in the offing, not one of distribution but content. If the labels were smart, and they're not, they'd be developing alternate sounds for the rest of America, these same people who've tuned out except for going to the shows of the aged acts referenced above. They want new music that appeals to them, but they don't know where to find it. None of it is consistently hyped. Funny how yacht rock is successful enough to not only be a term, but a Sirius XM channel, and the labels refuse to make ear-pleasing music by people who can play and sing. You read about acts in the paper and you need a decoder ring to understand them. They oftentimes have imperfect voices, the instrumentation is rough, but if this music turns you off, where are you supposed to go? The dungeon of Active Rock, the backwater of AAA? We need stuff that appeals to many that can gain traction, this is not rocket science, then again, the music business is not famous for being populated by rocket scientists.
Margaret Sullivan "The media's eagerness to discount the 'blue wave' feeds a dangerous problem": https://wapo.st/2PTfYOB
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Junk
I'm working my way through the new "White Album." Unlike Dylan's "More Blood, More Tracks," you don't have to pony up for the CDs to get all the tracks, and who has a CD player anymore anyway? Both my computers don't have one, then again, these packages are for collectors, kinda like vinyl, which many people buy as a souvenir, or to play on cheap turntables that sound worse than MP3s.
And I like Giles, but I still believe these remixes are heinous, they mess with not only the originals, what you know in your mind, but history. It's as if we went back and changed WWII movies into color, made some people bigger and released it, and then the new version becomes the de facto version and those who were there originally pass away and...
I ultimately had to skip the remixes, they were too offensive, more bass, more drums, not like I remember, it would be one thing if I sat in the studio and Giles was pushing the faders, but to set these cuts in amber is sacrilegious, and can I say that Jeff Jones and the Beatles should give Steven Wilson a crack at future remixes, he hasn't got Giles's pedigree, but when he remixes Jethro Tull and Yes and...the finished product sounds just like the original but cleaner, I don't know how he does it, but the end result is stupendous, and this is from someone who is categorically against remixing, remastering...that's okay.
But what you do need to listen to is the Esher demos, then you'll get the idea of what the sixties and the Beatles were really about. You see they're imperfect. We think of the Beatles as being self-contained and hermetically sealed. Like they were fully-formed and needed no additions, but these demos truly argue for George Martin being the Fifth Beatle, he added so much, but what is here... The guitars oftentimes sound like what you strum at home... But the voices! You'll be stunned, from an era back when being able to hit the notes was a prerequisite to having a musical career. We could sit at home and strum like this, but we could never sing like this, but we tried. In the early 1900s you sat around a piano and sang. In the sixties you picked up a guitar and sang along. Now you make beats and...
And "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" was impressive for having its own character, George's vocal penetrating, it stands next to the studio iteration, it's not a pale imitation.
But the winner is...
JUNK!
Oh, to go back when, when the Beatles broke up, and Paul McCartney released the first solo LP and was excoriated. George got all the kudos with "All Things Must Pass," but have you listened to that lately? Time has not been kind. As for Lennon's debut...positive reviews, but few listens. Then the second LP "Imagine" was released and the title track was ubiquitous and became legendary. And on that album was "Jealous Guy," of which I think Rod Stewart does the best cover, before his image ate him and he became about the trappings as opposed to the music.
But before it was "Jealous Guy," it was "Child Of Nature," written in India like "Junk," but not released on the "White Album," but the demo here... Whew! It's a winner, the tune of "Jealous Guy," but with completely different lyrics, John is happy as opposed to bitter, there's no angst, only bliss. Pretty fascinating.
But, once again, the winner is "Junk."
Originally it was called "Jubilee," and some of the lyrics are unfinished, a lot of them in fact, but the magic remains, arguably more than the finished product.
I first heard "McCartney" in the middle of summer, stoned in a frat house on the Cornell campus, it was then that the album revealed itself to me. And to tell you the truth, I always preferred "Every Night" and "Teddy Boy," never mind "Maybe I'm Amazed," but I certainly knew "Junk" and its partner "Singalong Junk."
"Motor cars, handle bars
Bicycles for two"
Sans the excess production, with just guitars and vocals, this Esher demo version is more intimate, more dreamy, it's the essence of the Beatles' wizardry, the way they made the basics rise above, be more than seemed possible.
Unlike the other demos, the guitars are more polished, and the vocals are nearly perfect, but the track is riddled with some feedback, but that only makes it more real, it's the imperfections that make something live. Why are we striving to be automatons, perfect and soulless, when what makes us so attractive is that we're all unique, with assets and deficits, when you sand off the edges you're just like everybody else and that's not appealing.
The "White Album" was not for parties, it was for bedrooms, for headphones, it was a personal experience. And "Junk" is as personal as it gets, like walking down a dark street just after the rain stopped, when it's not quite cold enough to scrunch your shoulders, when you're even-tempered and happy to be alive.
P.S. Yes, completists will tell me there's a version of "Junk" on "Anthology 3," but it's out of context and doesn't have the same magic. It's when you realize that "Junk" was created at the same time as the rest of the "White Album," when you hear it next to those other tracks, that it stands out, when you hear it as a Beatle number as opposed to a solo number, when you think about it being rejected for the double album, even though it would have fit perfectly and changed the character of that project just a tiny little bit, giving us a different view, which we now have.
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Monday, 12 November 2018
Brand Trumps Music
Used to be music developed. Over time. You took baby steps. Tried to get notice, tried to build a fan base. But that paradigm died with the seventies. But that does not mean baby boomers don't yearn for its return. Meanwhile, the millennials and Generation Z never experienced this heyday, when an act took five albums to break through. Now everything is hit and run. Nothing is built to last. The world moves too fast. So he or she with the brand wins.
If people know who you are, they love weighing in on you. Not only the press, but the public. Ever go somewhere and try to discuss your newfound fave and find out that no one has ever heard of it? Welcome to 2018!
So you're better off getting face tattoos and posting on social media and making friends with other talent so, like our President, when you release your music you don't start off at home, but second base. Ever since Britney Spears, we hear about the act before the music, now it's only worse.
You see it's next to impossible to rise above the noise. So the same acts populate the Spotify Top 50 while radio waits for consensus and scoops up the poop from the elephants who were barred from the circus before the whole enterprise collapsed. You enter at the top of the chart, you stay there for a while, then you're done. If you're expecting your non-hip-hop tracks to gain any attention, you're dreaming. Then again, if you worked on your brand, if people knew who you were and you kept on making news, then maybe you'd have a chance.
At this point, Kanye the man is bigger than his music. He's superseded the music, it's just an advertisement for his clothing and the rest of his shenanigans. And if you're playing the home game, trying to go professional, you imitate Kanye, not Little Feat. Who wants to be in a band that struggles and makes no money, we're all about getting rich here, and music is just a vehicle.
And everybody involved has drunk the kool-aid. No one is crying foul.
This is why AAA and Active Rock music never penetrates, these acts don't know it's about the sideshow, not the main show.
You've got to be in the game 24/7. If you're not tweeting or Instagramming, you've got to put out new music constantly, or maybe both. I know, I know, it took you years to write that song, but online it's gone in a minute, or maybe a week. Your only hope is to stay in the game long enough until people discover you and the spotlight is pointed at your catalogue.
It's all forward with no backward, which is the antithesis of great music. Great music sets you free, apart, you oftentimes dream about the past, but if you're contemplating the past, you're now missing out on the future. Just ask the upper middle class kids who work in consulting or finance right after college graduation. They're not taking time off, they're not bothering to find themselves, they're building their legacy from day one.
And for all this tech talk of pivoting, the average person can't afford to do it. You're investing in your brand from day one, and if you switch, you're starting all over again, or close. And you're lucky to be an employee, the company wants you to be an independent contractor, and how can you get a new job if you don't build your LinkedIn resume. Hmm... I was a clown yesterday, I'm a computer programmer today? Good luck beating out that person with experience.
Your experience is building your brand. Didn't you learn this from the Kardashians, famous for nothing, they're rich! And that's what the younger generation wants to become. And the joke is on everybody paying their dues in music to ultimately find out no one is listening. You can go to Berklee, but no one wants to hear what you create.
Then again, we're always open to art.
But art gets a bad reputation in a world where it's all about the STEM subjects and the liberal arts are anathema.
As for rock stars, Beto O'Rourke is a bigger one than anybody on the hit parade. And for you righties, there's Steve King, who keeps doubling-down on his heinous statements, did you hear he called immigrants "dirt"?
But King knows the game better than the wannabes. He's only interested in HIS audience, he doesn't care about YOURS! You can't play to everybody, you've got to play to somebody.
Now we used to have hype in the pre-internet era and it oftentimes worked. For every failed project like Jobriath, there were other acts that had the button pushed and broke through, many deservedly so. But the funny thing today is the labels don't build the fan base, the act does. And maybe the act is smart in this case, why depend upon the label which will screw you, better to build it yourself and then cut a better deal, if you want one at all. As for the rockers and those left out...they're still dreaming of yesteryear, when the label would pay them mucho dinero to play in their sandbox and see what they came up with. Record companies are businesses too, and ever since Tommy Mottola, the executives have been richer than the acts, so don't expect any change there.
This all is a result of internet cacophony. For fifteen years, the tech game moved so fast we were dazzled, we couldn't keep up. But now in this endless game of musical chairs there are only a few companies left, and they ain't goin' nowhere, and you can't break their hegemony. So we're trying to use their tools to greater effect. But now that everybody can message, we only pay attention to the biggest messengers.
But this is not the end. People are starting to realize what is going on, they're unsatiated. Kinda like Trump. What kind of bizarre world do we live in where politics is ahead of music? Trump consolidated the dissatisfaction and woke up the blue populace, which seems to be doing better every day, hell, Kyrsten Sinema was just declared the winner in Arizona nearly a week after election day. The media had it wrong, surprise? If you take a snapshot, you're missing the movie, and it's all about the plot. But everybody's so busy getting ahead that they can't get off the moving sidewalk, think about it and chart a different direction.
It's coming.
And it's gonna look different.
It'll be left field. The brand will be secondary to the music. Like Bob Dylan, the performer will have contempt for the usual suspects and will refuse to play the game. What we know is there are always unheralded people waiting to break. We can see their ascension in hindsight, but not while it's happening.
This vapidity cannot last forever. Music is both easy and hard. That's what the Berklee students don't understand. Chops are for classical, popular is about inspiration, which cannot be taught, although it can be nurtured. If you're practicing all day, you've got nothing to say. Meanwhile, today's "giants" are not practicing at all, unless it's online.
The horse race is dead. That's how the media got it so wrong last week. The truth appears over time.
Tech has become ossified, but creativity never dies.
Watch out.
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Sunday, 11 November 2018
More Reykjavik
You see there are three figures of acts, playing in multiple venues across the city, none of them beyond walking distance. And you listen to the buzz, and you make some mistakes, and you discover... Eivor, a woman from the Faroe Islands who's released ten albums and filled up the National Theatre. That's one thing that wowed me, the coughing up of respectable venues for this theoretically unrespectable music. Like the Art Museum, and Reykjavik's crown jewel, the nearly-new concert hall Harpa. And a church and...
We stumbled upon Eivor. A tall blonde woman who fronted a trio whose music was percussive and whose voice was wailing and held the assembled multitude in rapt attention. Our driver said every Icelandic male knew Eivor, I'd never heard of her.
Equally as impressive was the following act, Solstafir, metal with melody and psychedelic and classic elements, I love this sound, and the act delivered, kinda like the Aussies, as in tight! In America everybody is following trends and trying to make it, bitching while they don't, not deserving attention to begin with, and then you stumble upon acts who've been honing their craft for years unaware or not caring of trends and your jaw drops...is this the way it is in the rest of the world?
And then that same night, after midnight, Hatari, who sounded like a weird melding of Kraftwerk and Rammstein with a healthy dose of fascism mixed in. There was that driving beat, that had Sigi near pogo, and the way the vocalists spit out the vocals, it was funny and intriguing all at the same time.
And the thing is unlike with the big bands, the big venues, not that all of these were tiny, was it was only about the music. Not everybody was on their mobile. You needed no distractions, the music was enough. Like it was the seventies or eighties all over again, you were glued to the sound.
And last night, after a few misses, too many droning guitars and airy vocals, I went to see Junius Meyvant who fronted a soul band with two horns that brought that sound back without being so reverential that it was a recreation, but something new. I couldn't tear myself away, the music made me feel good, everything vaunted today has to have an edge, has to push your buttons, or has the classic drum sound of the TR-808 and no choruses. I'd rather listen to Junius than Ariana Grande any day of the week. Sure, she's got the pipes, but the material is too often mediocre, she's selling celebrity, which was not the case with the acts at Airwaves.
And on Friday night we went with a group to Essential for dinner, and what struck me most was we were a tribe, just when you think the scene has splintered and dissipated, that you're alone and everything you knew has evaporated, it turns out that's not the case, there are still people who live for the music, without having to wear leather and put down your opinions.
As for Iceland, as for Reykjavik, like I said, the dining is expensive and incredible. Last night, on Daniel Glass's advice, we went to Fish Market. Since we had not made a reservation, they told us the only seats available were at the chef's table. We said yes, that turned out to be the right decision. Whether it be the conversation with the Icelanders back home from L.A. where they were trying to make it in the entertainment business or the geologist from Alaska who was eating puffin. And the conversation with the help was even more interesting. The chefs interpreted the dishes for us, as well as the lifestyle. Turns out the restaurant is the creation of Hrefna Rosa, a young woman with an international footprint. But she was not there, all those in the kitchen had graduated from or were still in cooking school. As for the head waiter, he'd gone to hospitality college, his dream was to own his own restaurant. Turns out ninety plus percent of Icelanders go to college.
And yesterday we went on a tour of the Golden Circle. You see where all the tribes met for nearly a century to hash out legalities and drown those deserving it. It all took place at the Law Rock, about a mile from where the tectonic plates of Europe and North America meet in a big black strip.
As for the geysers... Have you ever been to any geyser that's gone off on time? I certainly haven't, Old Faithful is anything but. Our guide said every five to eight minutes. We waited about twenty for a little puff of water. And we'd taken his advice and stayed fifteen feet away, out of the wind so as not to get wet. Felice had seen enough, but I just couldn't believe that was it. So I went right up to the rope and waited. The water was percolating, going up and down, but there was no eruption, and then... A blast comes out of the hole, goes about twenty feet in the air, full-throated and wide and I'm running from the rope as fast as I can so as not to be burned, don't mess with Mother Nature.
And then on to the waterfall, which is quite a sight.
And then to the tomato house restaurant Frioheimar, where we did not have a reservation, so we could not eat, but we did go into the hothouse and see the ripening vegetables and the bees that pollinated the vines, kinda cool.
And after our driver took us to the top of a volcano, the rock within striped deep red and green, we ended up eating at a bakery in a town thirty or forty minutes from Reykjavik. Like stopping in one of those burgs in western Colorado, where there's a grocery store and maybe a Subway and a few people who look like they've never left. But in this case they did speak English and seemed completely normal, but you wondered what they did all day, the only diversion seemed to be the land and the internet, then again, maybe they worked at the power plant, run from steam deep beneath the crust of the earth. Our driver told us Iceland is the only place where they have to cool the water down for consumption. Is this really true, I don't know!
And we saw the second largest lake and the third biggest, or maybe it was the second biggest, glacier, just an endless sea of white.
And then it was back to town. Which, like I said, defies expectations. It's all low-rise and intimate and everybody's friendly and there is no crime and maybe now I know why no one leaves.
But the sun didn't rise until ten and I can say it never was really bright, with the orb so low in the horizon. And we debated which was worse, the short days or the short nights, we're still not sure, we'll have to go back to find out!
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