Don Henley is on his high horse in a rambling editorial that ran in the Washington Post. In fact, you might say he's in a huff. I'd sympathize more if not for similar Chicken Little comments he made back when punk threatened his livelihood. Things turned out just fine for Don that time (and not just thanks to the Ataris' covering "Boys of Summer), so I suspect they will again. Once he gets over the rampant piracy of mp3 files, he'll likely shut down this blatant thief of chili recipes.
Not to make light of a serious problem, but his indignation rings hollow because he's a known reactionary. Corporate hegemony has been around a lot longer than the Internet, and it never bothered him until his wallet felt the pinch. Let's break it down:
"Radio stations used to be local and diverse," Henley says.
Right, about 35 years ago, says Vernam.
"The delicate balance between artists and radio networks has been dramatically altered; networks can now, and often do, exert unprecedented pressure on artists," Henley says.
When my neighbor's payola won't get him played on the radio, that's a recession. When my payola won't get me on the radio, that's a depression, says Vernam.
"Would a major label sign Johnny Cash today? I doubt it," says Henley.
No real argument here. But more precisely, if Johnny were 20 today, he'd be smarter than to try being on a major label. And put that way, it doesn't make me feel so sorry for the hypothetical Johnny, says Vernam.
"Music stores used to be magical places offering wide variety. Today the three largest music retailers are Best Buy, Wal-Mart and Target. In those stores shelf space is limited, making it harder for new artists to emerge," says Henley.
There still are magical record stores, though admittedly many medium-sized ones have gone under. The smaller ones that survive often do so by selling used CDs or bootlegs. The real issue with the Mega-Lo-Mart model isn't shelf-space; hell, you could fit a battleship in some of these places. The problem is that corporations by definition have no souls, says Vernam.
The latest No Depression has a long article about T Bone Burnett, who says: "Record companies . . . put out music for people who don't like music."
"Some things last longer than you think they will/There are some kind of things you can never kill," sings Bob Dylan.
Can't remember where I found this web radio site -- if you told me about it, let me know so I can give proper credit -- but Boot Liquor is about the best I've heard for that new-old-timey sound. They throw in enough vintage Jones, Owens, Travis, Paycheck and Monroe to keep it interesting, but the selection of insurgents and revivalists is equally good: Bottle Rockets, Beat Farmers, Dave Alvin, Jimmie Dale Gilmore, and many more. Kind of light on Bloodshot arteests like the Wacos and Alejandro Escovedo, but that's a quibble when the playlists are so good.
It's mercifully free of hippie residue (or residual hippies?), in contrast to the overrated KPIG, which is only available by subscription now anyway, thanks to our friends at Clear Channel. Boot Liquor is literally run out of someone's house via DSL that allows 90 concurrent listeners, so if you like it, think about sending 'em a check.
Vernam's weekly Wednesday gig and open stage at Ballydoyle has become quite something. We've got a reliable crew of skilled performers who keep coming back, and different but equally talented ones who seem to rotate in and out. Once per month the show starts with a band showcase -- on April 25, that will be Margo Jean Simpson, and March 24 will be Finneus.
Check out CIPHERSONGS for photos of recent players, including one bona fide major-label rawk star who dropped in.
This seemed like an outrage until I looked at my cable bill. They're all part of the same hypocrisy, as Michael Corleone might say. I wonder how much of the Mob's take ended up in campaign coffers.
Less than four weeks 'til the Sopranos!
I wasn't paying real close attention, but it seemed like the Grammies sucked less than usual. Prince and Beyonce got things started right. There was a riot goin' on w/ Earth, Wind and Fire/P-Funk/Outkast. In fact, too bad no one thought to include Sly Stone, which would have been a harmonic convergence of what George Pelecanos has termed the most glorious period of American music. And Outkast's finale -- as fun as it was politically incorrect -- shows that the 70s' anarchic spirit lives on. The only real suckiness I saw was the incomprehensible Fab "tribute" that featured Sting and Dave Matthews in a duel to see who could do the least convincing "woooo" on "I Saw Her Standing There." Maybe Leo Kottke wasn't available. Or should I say "I Saw Her Dancing There," as Matthews ever-so-respectfully changed the first verse -- does it bug him that Paul sings that his heart went boom as she crossed that room, then contradicts himself by saying she stood still? Dave, take some Zoloft next time and stay home. On the plus side, Celine Dion's microphone malfunctioned. All in all, a fine show.
This may be taking liberal guilt to a new extreme, not that it's a bad thing. In the interest of equal time, there's also this. Repentant Bush voters are what we really need . . . I've met more than a few, in fact. The domains for both www.repentantbushvoter.com and www.unrepentantbushvoter.com are available.