LEEF Trax: PDX LIX LAX

photo c/o Nick Moon

Madness.

That's right, I said it. And I'll say it again. Madness.

Don't those guys look tired? Punchy? Ready for the looney bin?

That fellow to my right is Nick Moon -- who, by the way, is quickly becoming Portland's go-to guy for audio recording. Although his most high profile gig might be working with Gino Vanelli, Nick's resume lists a growing "who's who" of local/regional jazz (and jazz-related) talent: Nancy King, Belinda Underwood, Alan Jones, Madeline Eastman, most (all?) of the members of Pink Martini, etc. Why he consented to working on the new IJG record is simply beyond me.



"Historic" Troutdale, OR: home of Tone Proper Mastering.

But consent he did. And I'll bet he regrets it, because what started as a two-day project back in November quickly turned into four, and then six, and then eight, and now... well, let's just say we worked pretty much every day last week to finish the fucker (and just in time for our upcoming tour, I might add). Apparently mixing a live multi-tracked big band recording -- especially one that was made without using any real separation techniques (bafffles, clip-on mics, judicious and sparing placement of monitors) -- is a lot harder than I had originally supposed. Boy did I learn a lot about some of the things that can go wrong (hello, low-end bleed!).

It's amazing how something as sedentary as mixing -- really hardcore mixing, even over a short period of time -- can be physically exhausting. I suppose that's a function of the kind of repetitive listening that's involved. It's a kind of listening that is probably not at all "natural" -- the ears, I suspect, are not really built to take in the same song (or even snippets of the same song) hundreds of times in a row.

Hence the semi-zapped look on our faces in the pic above.



Going to the studio: it's almost like taking a leisurely stroll through a quaint little tourist town -- but not really.

* * * * *

Those of you who are already on the Facebook bandwagon (I'm going to assume Jason Moran's use of that term has de-pejorativized it) may have noticed the Industrial Jazz Group page over there. This is but one of the places you can check out an advance copy of "PDX LIX LAX" -- one of the representative pieces from the most recent incarnation of the group. (A "more final" mastered version is also available here.)

PDX was written in the summer of 2006 -- midway between two events that turned out to be pretty crucial to its conception, completion, and title: first, the ill-fated CD release show for "Industrial Jazz a Go Go!", which took place at Hollywood's Barnsdall Theater in April, and second, my relocation to Portland, OR, in September of that same year.

When I look back on it now, that seems like an amazingly compressed period of time in which to undergo such a drastic shift -- especially with wife and kid in tow, and especially given that I had no idea during the CD release show experience that I would be out of LA (my home for ten years) within a few months. But the "Barnsdall incident" helped to solidify that migration for me -- as you might notice if you read the above-linked post (which was probably written in a fit of pique: fair warning) . It's not that I necessarily minded dealing with the possibility of a low turnout for any given IJG show -- I know that risk is pretty much inevitable wherever you go -- but I was tired of compromising so many other aspects of my life just to stay in a town that was not much more welcoming of the arts than any other big metropolis in the country.

Anyway, "PDX LIX LAX" emerged in Barnsdall's wake -- pretty much in tandem with another LEEF track, "Howl." (I tend to write things in pairs, for some reason.) This is actually the second arrangement of the tune. In the original version, the melody of the "A section" (basically, the first half, before the gospel-like groove kicks in) was mostly shared by two alto saxes in unison. But as I was preparing for our last east coast tour, I got the bright idea to convert a significant portion of the A section into more of a "Concerto for Evan" (highlighting the idiosyncratic brilliance of longtime IJG collaborator, Evan Francis).

For comparison of these arrangement approaches, you can check out this excerpt from the original arrangement -- this is the beginning of the tune, as heard in a performance at Club Tropical (in Culver City), at the outset of our August 2006 west coast tour (the alto parts were expertly played by Ariel Alexander and James King, both motherfuckers in their own right).

One of the performance possibilities that was opened up by the later revision -- and I think I had a strong feeling that Evan would go this route, though I don't remember explicitly coaching him into it, and it's certainly not indicated on the chart -- was that the first statement of the melody would no longer have to be limited to the ink; i.e., Evan was freed up to start with an embellishment instead of a theme. The fun part (for me, anyway) is that the listener doesn't really know what the embellishment is an embellishment of until the second statement of the melody (at around the 1:12 mark), where the ensemble pretty much takes over and puts the tune out there quite emphatically. So things are kind of backwards. (On top of all this, I should add, the looseness of the opening is heightened by drummer Dan Schnelle's willingness to provoke and propel Evan's playing.)

What can I say? I'm fascinated by inversion. I like the word "preposterous."

Anyway.

Not totally unrelated: one of my favorite Prince tunes is "Forever in My Life" (from Sign o the Times). It includes a "backing / counterpoint vocal" that anticipates the tune's "lead vocal" (in a more typical pop arrangement the relationship would be the other way round). I haven't listened to Prince in a while, but SOTT was a favorite of mine for a while -- so I'm guessing that "Forever" had some sort of impact on my rearrangement of "PDX."

(You can file that bit under "artists you would never have guessed as influences on the IJG.")

* * * * *

P.S. Does PDX really "lick" LAX? Well, that's a loaded question. I do love it here. In particular, I can say that it's extremely cool to live somewhere so green, and yet still so satisfyingly urban. And there is something endearing about PDX's pride in local quirkiness (one reason I used a local manufacturer and printer for the replication / packaging of LEEF -- more on that soon).

Also: check out M. Farina's post / link on the Portland music scene. That's more about licking SEA-TAC, I guess. Maybe I'll write a sequel tune.

A little levity...

...never hurt nobody.



C/o Secondtino.

An addendum on taste

I've been pondering, on and off, further ramifications of Carl Wilson's investigation of taste -- which I first pondered here.

(We're all about further ramifications here at JTMOUE.)

Still haven't actually gotten to the book yet.

(We're all about overscheduling here at JTMOUE.)

But check this out: bass wizard Steve Lawson recently had a cool post about a cool post about a cool post (see how this Internet thing works?), and all three tie into this topic nicely.

An excerpt from the primary document (the context is an experiment in which the trajectory of a given song's popularity could be "rewound" and tested numerous times):

In each of the eight social worlds, the top songs -- and the bottom ones -- were completely different.

For example, the song "Lockdown," by 52metro, was the No. 1 song in one world, yet finished 40 out of 48 in another. Nor did there seem to be any compelling correlation between merit and success. In fact, Watts explains, only about half of a song's success seemed to be due to merit.

"In general, the 'best' songs never do very badly, and the 'worst' songs never do extremely well, but almost any other result is possible," he says.

Why?

Because the first band to snag a few thumbs-ups in the social world tended overwhelmingly to get many more. And who received those crucial first votes seemed to be mostly a matter of luck.

How many of us are willing to admit that that beautiful tune we hold so dear, that authentic expression of heartfelt artistry, that potent signifier of some significant event in our lives, may actually be something we have (at least in part) been conditioned to love?

There is a lot of writing about musical likes and dislikes as if they are scientific, subject to the play of immutable laws (most musical analysis-based criticism takes this tack -- which of course is fine as far as it goes). But what if musical taste is actually a very complex kind of choice?

What if our record collections are full of things we (again, at least in part) decide to like because it suits some larger agenda about who we think we are or who we want to be?

These are silly questions, I know. I'm in a silly mood.

Same old same old

So we're back to this again.

Well, okay.

I don't really see tonight's results as a reversal of fortune for Obama -- the "delegate math" just doesn't add up -- but I do have a bad feeling about where things are going.

Every once in a while, when I take our lab-mastiff, Louis, to the park, there is a small dog or two who just won't leave him the fuck alone, what with the yipping and the nipping and the circling, until he just has to break through his usually docile doggy demeanor and come back with a convincingly vicious growl.

That, I believe, is what's going on here: go negative until you provoke a response. And there are many ways Obama can win this, but he can't win a negative fight against the Clintons (at least I don't think he can). That sort of thing is their bread and butter.

That sort of thing -- this sort of thing -- was also, I had hoped, a relic of the political past, the infamous "dustbin of history." Ha! Stupid me.



And where will this brave new return to business-as-usual lead us? Do we even care? Maybe not. But we should. In one of the stronger moments (for me) in what was an otherwise lackluster "concession" speech in San Antonio last night, Obama put it this way:

The world is watching what we do here. What will we they see? What will we tell them? What will we show them?

Same as it ever was?

Images from the front

Bag News Notes contributor Alan Chin appears to be "photoliveblogging" (is that a word?) the race in Ohio today. Some amazing shots are up already.

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit listening to NPR

This is getting ridiculous. Another track ("Losing Proposition") from the 2002 Industrial Jazz Group album, City of Angles, was recently used as bumper music on NPR. This time (the fourth, at least) on Michel Martin's Tell Me More program.

(Last time it was our "Anger Management Classes" on Talk of the Nation.)

The feel-good video of the... oh, never mind

Not HRK-approved (to her credit), but HRK-inspired (no comment).

After about 15 seconds you'll get the idea...

LEEF art

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cover of LEEF:



The art on this mofo was expertly executed by Alan Kahler (whose design is even more impressive when you consider that I was operating under pretty severe budget constraints). I would highly recommend Alan for any art project ya got.

"LEEF," by the way (I may as well explain it now) is an intentional mis-appropriation of one conjugation of the Dutch word for the verb "to live" (as in "I live," or simply a command: "live!"). Of course, since this is mostly a concert recording, I'm using "LEEF" as a way to play with the American word "live," referring to a performance in front of an audience (apparently this word doesn't translate very well into Dutch). Why embrace this linguistic slippage? I guess I liked the extra dimension that the (proper) Dutch usage brought -- cuz this album has basically been my life (though not my living) for almost two years now.

To complicate things even further, the Dutch word is actually pronounced "layf" -- though the picture of a leaf on the cover is meant to suggest the "long e" pronunciation.

Confused? Consider Läther as an inspiration.

(I must thank Steve Munley for helping me to understand some of these nuances of the Dutch language, by the way.)

What else? According to one urban dictionary, "leef" also refers to "excellence" (in American slang).

Oh, yeah, and there is also the Chaucerian word "lief," which, if I'm remembering correctly, can refer to "beloved," "dear," or "willing." (Too tired to link it right now.)

Why all caps? I dunno, I think it looks cool.

Take your meanings where you will.

Apropos of nothing...

Here's an awesome animal list (take it with a grain of wikipedia-salt, of course).

Did you know that if you want to say that someone is "alligator-like," you can call them "eusuchian"?

Or that a baby crocodile is called a "crocklet"? (Even better: a baby falcon is called an "eyass.")

Or that a group of earthworms is called a "sloop"?

Or that a group of siskins is called an "ebert"? Not to be confused with... (Okay, sorry, it's late.)

Or that the male and female armadillo is called a "lister" and a "zed," respectively?

(I'm picking these out more or less at random.)

Anyway, why?

Answer: this list is coming very handy in a song I am writing. Of course!

Seth Godin video

Haven't had a chance to watch it yet, but it's almost guaranteed to be a winner.

There's hope, and then there's...

...blind faith.

And as even this guy knows: "Blind faith in your leaders, or in anything, will get you killed."

(Via Wonkette.)

I figured it out

I know I've been blogging an awful lot about politics lately. This is not an explicitly political blog, and I don't pretend that any of my own musings on the subject are on par with the hardcore political bloggers.

But I realized while watching the debate tonight why this election has become so personal for me -- aside from the obvious fact that we're talking about the future of the country.

It's not much of an exaggeration to say that trying to make "creative music," in this day and age, and in this country in particular, is a highly idealistic (and perhaps even naive, and perhaps even foolish, and perhaps even self-destructive) enterprise. Zappa captured the scope and power of the obstacles musicians face by putting these words into the voice of his sneering "Central Scrutinizer" character (in the epic Joe's Garage album):

Joe has just worked himself into an imaginary frenzy during the fade-out of his imaginary song. He begins to feel depressed now. He knows the end is near. He has realized at last that imaginary guitar notes and imaginary vocals exist only in the mind of The Imaginer, and ultimately, who gives a fuck anyway? [laughter] Who gives a fuck anyway? So he goes back to his ugly little room and quietly dreams his last imaginary guitar solo...

Yeah, that about nails it: who gives a fuck anyway? More immediate (and depressing) evidence of this brick-wall-in-the-face-of-art can be found in DJA's moving writeup on the problem of musicians without health care (in general) and the crises of Andrew D'Angelo and Dennis Irwin (in particular). As Darcy puts it:

As jazz musicians in America, we gamble with our lives, placing a sucker's bet every month: health insurance or rent, health insurance or food, health insurance or buying an instrument, heath insurance or renting a rehearsal space, health insurance or making a record, health insurance or hiring a publicist to promote your record, health insurance or going on tour, etc. Not to mention that even those who do mange to obtain heath insurance often still end up bankrupted by medial bills. [...]
And then if the unthinkable happens -- if you are diagnosed with a brain tumor, or a spinal tumor -- the system says, "Too bad for you, but it's your fault for not having gotten a real job. If you cared about your health, you wouldn't have become a musician in the first place. But, hey, don't despair, I'm sure your fellow musicians can raise a few hundred bucks for you at benefit show. That'll really put a dent in those six-figure medical bills."

Again: when shit like that goes down, how could you not come away feeling like nobody gives a fuck?

Anyway, I realized (or perhaps recalled) while watching the debate that there are a number of similarities between the political industry and the music industry in this country. Both are configured toward the interests of the powerful. Both reward deception (run the trend into the ground). Both discourage innovation or creativity (avoid the risk at all costs). Both are plagued by cynicism (whatever, nevermind) and superficiality (that sounded "pitchy" to me, dog).

And yet, ironically but importantly, both are attended by contituencies (audiences) that are hungry -- maybe even desperate -- for the opposite of all that. This, I think, is why the Obama campaign has gained so much ground so quickly. Once people began to get the sense that, at long last, somebody good finally got through the system -- well, how do you stop that? Maybe, just maybe, we're not fucked. It's like struggling to break free from a lucid nightmare. (And in that sense, it's not really about Obama, so much -- it's about us.)

Isn't this what keeps us going as musicians, composers, or artists of any stripe? Sure, there is the undeniable pleasure of making art, but isn't there an idealist in all of us, holding out for the possibility that someday, good people and good work will actually get through the system? (Why would we do it if we didn't believe that were possible?)

Wherever this election goes from here (and who knows, maybe we're all just kidding ourselves about Obama -- though I suspect not), it's nice to have a palpable, resonant example of the fact that things-that-seem-impossible (be they artistic things or political things) can sometimes actually get done.

Woman of wonder

Sent to me by my lovely wife.

Thandie's big question upon being introduced to this classic super-heroine: "Why is she wearing that bathing suit?"

Why indeed, sweetheart. Why indeed.

(By the way, does anyone else have the impression that the voiceover in this commercial has been pitch-shifted downward? And if so, how exactly is that supposed to make someone want to buy the doll?)

Thank you...

...to nolalily and Jim Newell for writing this and this, respectively.

Newell does us the favor of including the footage of the interview, and nolalily links to hilzoy's spectacular overview of Obama's legislative record, which is as solid a refutation of this silly charge (that Obama doesn't have the experience or know-how to make laws) as I've seen.

But neither includes anything about the way in which, immediately after cutting back to the studio, Keith Olbermann (co-anchoring with Matthews) gently pulled the rug out from his pompous desk-mate by asking (I'm paraphrasing here): "To be fair to Senator Obama, can you name anything that Congress has accomplished in the last eight years?" At which point the real bluster began (Matthews responded with something to the effect that "That's too broad of a question to answer here"), and after a few more awkward exchanges, they were off to a commercial. I would've loved to have been on that set in the moments afterward, let me tell you.

(As I said, I'm paraphrasing the exchange -- YouTube it in a few days and I'm sure you'll find the clip.)

Anyway, so gracias to Olbermann too. I had been growing less and less fond of his reporting in recent weeks -- his stance on the Obama-Reagan thing and his seeming approval of Shuster's suspension were particularly annoying to me. But this is a welcome return-to-form.

UPDATE:

Crooks and Liars has the clip.

UPDATE #2:

hilzoy's response is beautiful. And the comments point toward Kirk Watson's own (pretty goddammed gracious and mature) take on what happened. (Watson is the guy Matthews grilled).

Little victories where you can get them

So I bit the bullet this week (well, last week) and joined Garageband. Actually, I re-joined -- I had submitted a few tracks from our first album, Hardcore, way back in 2001, but because that was such a (relatively) long time ago (and because I "dropped out" of the Garageband scene shortly afterwards), I had to create a fresh account for the new stuff I'll be submitting. Hence the distinction between The Industrial Jazz Group and Industrial Jazz Group (yeah, I know, I should probably fix that at some point).

You can still read the reviews we got for the two Hardcore tracks I submitted: "Plus or Minus Eleven" and "Cozy 'n Tooty". They're kind of, well, funny. (For some reason the word "cute" pops up a lot, which I don't understand, but nevertheless find amusing.) Of course, you can also listen to the songs if you've never heard them.

This go-round, I've started with "The Job Song." Which, now that I think about it, allows me to do an unscientific comparison of the promotional usefulness of Garageband and Amie Street (where I uploaded the same tune a short while back -- as described here).

My first impression is that although both sites rely on user reviews, Garageband (which is, incidentally, connected to the "social music discovery service" iLike, and is the brainchild of ex-Talking Head Jerry Harrison) provides more tangible evidence that people are actually interacting with your work (and of course that's useful from the standpoint of getting to know your audience). This is possibly because the metaphor for Amie Street is "store" -- it is essentially a warehouse for MP3s, where prices are determined by demand (which is in turn reflected in user recommendations, or RECs -- all of these sites simply must have their own lexicon, I guess). So far "The Job Song" has received only one "REC" at Amie Street -- which may partly be because I have done very little to actually promote it on the site. But it may also be because of the site metaphor. I have no doubt that the folks who use the site are passionate music fans, but the M.O. seems less-than-urgent: users are simply browsing an online store.

In contrast, the metaphor for Garageband is "contest," with all of the trappings that entails: charts, the possibility for negative and positive reviews (remember, Amie Street only allows "recommendations"), a comparatively elaborate protocol for reviewing, and "prizes" like "track of the day."

Which, incidentally, is what "The Job Song" is going to be tomorrow (on the jazz page).

I don't know if that little accomplishment means anything beyond the (possibly lucky) fact that our first three reviews were pretty good (and also humorous -- apparently I should be writing musicals), but it does feel nice.

A terrific plumber

It's late, but I just found out about this Carl Wilson book -- (ostensibly) about Celine Dion -- which came out in December. I haven't read it yet, but after discovering this Crawdaddy interview (c/o John Mark), I really really really want to.

A few posts back, I hinted at my own internal dialogue on the question of taste (check down in the comments of this post). I swear I haven't been out searching for a book that expertly sinks its teeth into this complex issue -- no time -- but apparently I just found it.

Here are some excerpts from the interview:

Celine presents some special qualities: everyone agrees that what she does is at a high level of musical accomplishment, for instance, no matter how much they dislike her, so that combination was striking to me; it raises a particular puzzle. (How can music be at once good and no good? What does the word "good" really mean?)

(These are apposite questions, but I feel I should interject that there are probably few music fans who would argue that "good" means "played with technical skill." (Maybe the real question is "what is technical skill"?) It's nice when interesting musical ideas can be combined with sophisticated physical execution -- but sometimes interesting ideas don't even need that. And sometimes something as hard-to-define as attitude trumps both the quality of the ideas and the execution.)

Most of all, though, as I say in the book, I think I had more of a personal grudge against Celine, and that edge made the project more compelling to me: why did she piss me off so much?

Yes. That is a really brave question for a critic to ask.

Maybe related: in grad school I came to the conclusion that it is impossible for a writer to achieve true objectivity when discussing art -- and the simulacra of objectivity that many writers actually attained was easily confused with boredom. When it comes to music criticism, I have always preferred writers who emphasize their subjectivity (see Lester Bangs, f'r'instance) -- including their failings and idiosyncracies. That way, I feel like I at least become aware of a specific context in which a given work succeeds or fails. And learning about the contexts for art is almost as important as learning about art itself. I guess.

Crawdaddy!: In your exercise to try to change your own taste, did you come any closer to being able to define what taste is, or how we develop our sense of taste? You quote the poet Paul Valéry, who wrote: "Tastes are composed of a thousand distastes." At the end of this experiment, do you agree with that?

Wilson: I think that tastes are composed of a thousand misunderstandings. And about half of those are wonderful misunderstandings, in which someone's imperfect expression of their sense of what it's like to be alive manages to squish itself into the tunnels of our own sense of what it's like to be alive, and we mistake their experience for ours, because music and pictures and words and so on have the power to simulate the experience of other minds, even though I suspect we're never really hearing what the maker thinks we're hearing. It's like taking things the wrong way the right way.

An interesting analysis, to say the least. And it raises the question of whether "communication" -- at least as it's understood within a language-based framework -- ever really happens in music. To put it another way: is "musical meaning" possible? (And if so, what is it? And if not, how do we determine musical "value"?)

And the other half of those are lousy misunderstandings, in which we take things the wrong way the wrong way, and imagine that another set of music and pictures and words represents an assault against us, that it's the manifestation of everything that makes our lives difficult. It has to do with how much code we share with the makers, to some degree, but also what pleasure we respect and what pleasure we don't. All artists, good or bad, are trying to build little machines that express meaning and give pleasure. What I've discovered, I think, is that this is very seldom done in bad faith -- or that, at least, whether it's in good faith or bad faith is generally irrelevant to our liking for it. I think Celine makes her music in as much good faith as, say, Ghostface Killah does. That I like what Ghostface does and not so much what Celine does has to do with a lot of social meaning and positioning that is implied by the trappings around each of them, and maybe with how successfully and creatively they do it, but it doesn't imply that there are bad intentions behind one and not the other. Maybe Ghostface is in his room laughing at his fans' gullibility. I'll never know. So taste is not moral in the way that much of the discourse around it implies. Art is always manipulative and taste is always a choice of collusions.

I do think that when you like something for being "not like" the mainstream, for being "not like" what people you don't like prefer, you're playing a status game and thinking very shallowly about art.

I love that metaphor of artists building "little machines that express meaning and give pleasure" -- though with all the "misunderstanding" referenced above, one wonders, again, how much meaning is really conveyed. (My own trajectory as an artist -- over the last ten years or so -- has been very much about becoming as interested in musical pleasure as I used to be solely in musical meaning.)

Amen as well to the bit about intentions. I guess we're into the issue of morality here; but if intentions don't necessarily have anything to do with the quality of the music, is "bad music" immoral? (Sometimes it sure feels like it is...)

Obviously I'm asking a lot of pompous, over-broad questions tonight. Sorry.

Anyway, if not intentions, then what about context (again)?

However, we're all aware that we need to be decent to people we don't necessarily love; that we don't need to love everyone in order to respect them. So I think what the book calls for is a bit of a renewal of the golden rule on an aesthetic level: you can say Rascal Flatts aren't your cup of tea, but you can still think, well, they're beloved of a lot of people who'd probably be extremely nice to me if I came into their house for dinner. And if we were eating some fried chicken and peas and chatting and they put on a Rascal Flatts record, maybe I'd have fun listening to it while I was talking to them. So there's a tone of contempt that we adopt about what we consider inferior music that I think is contextual: "This music doesn't make sense within my life." And maybe that does mean it's second-rate, or maybe it means that it'd be first-rate within another kind of life. The background sense that what we're debating is ways of living might make us slow down a bit in our snap judgments. It's probably not a way any of us can think all of the time, but like any sort of moral thinking, it can be a check upon our worst instincts.

So musical taste is a kind of social tool that can be used (to connect) or abused (to discriminate and divide)?

Note how the "digital revolution" has a tendency to make the social context of music much more visible than it has ever been. Aside from the obvious example of the blogosphere (where people are constantly confessing and sharing their tastes), software like iTunes (f'r'instance) keeps a running tab on the number of times a listener has played a given song -- and that history can then be recorded into a last.fm or Mog.com account (say), where it goes on display for anyone who wants to view it. Genres may split and subdivide, but, more and more, patterns of taste are represented, albeit imperfectly.

I ended up feeling that this is where criticism needs to go, really; that arid and witty dissections of culture aren't what I want to read —- whether it's reportage or reflection, I want to hear about what life is like for other people, and art is a vehicle for that exchange. It's more than just that, of course: I like to read technical and historical analyses, too. But critics who are merely trying to fix a numerical value to artworks, like a Consumer's Report on car tires, only help to kill the whole enterprise. (Although that ratings game can be a good subterfuge, the way that someone like Robert Christgau uses it as bait on his intellectual hook.)

I remember too many things about high school, but one of the less-pleasant memories is of watching a fellow student getting cut down (verbally, of course) by a peer, over the fact that the former was wearing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. At hand was a question of whether the LZ-garbed student was an "authentic fan" of the band -- or whether he was wearing the shirt simply because he wanted to be perceived as such (so as to garner whatever dubious status that might earn him). You know, the whole "poser" debate.

Is the state of music criticism an example of the high school status dynamic writ large? A culture of "one-upsmanship"?

Related questions, none of which are new: why does music (more obviously, I think, than, say, dancing, or visual art, or literature) help to mark social status? Why is it so essential to identity?

Crawdaddy!: Was the book an outgrowth of wanting to become more democratic in your taste, or did writing the book cause you to become more democratic in your taste?

Wilson: Both. Mainly it was a concentrated period of trying to figure out what "democratic" means. I think it's a glorious paradox. It doesn't mean populism and majority rule. It means something closer to being vulnerable enough, brave enough, to listen to other people without interrupting. And then to give your own point of view just as patiently. It means looking for the lucky misunderstandings and not losing your head over the injurious ones.

Ah -- patience! What a beautiful concept.

Foam angst

The complete story is here.

Happy Friday!

Um, what?

Like Hilzoy, I have wanted to avoid piling on. But this is just too crazy not to post.



No, really. That's an official promo spot.

Time Has Come Today

How green, at a glance

For the voter-on-the-go:

Grist mag's handy chart on the candidates' environmental policies.

Nice!

Toldja

Guitar rising (or Guitar-sinking-to-a-new-low, depending on how you look at it).

Mania

I'll get back to musical posts soon, I swear.

* * * * *

Kevin over at Lean Left recently had an interesting take on the liberal credentials of Clinton vs. Obama. After addressing the greater progressiveness of Clinton's healthcare plan (said progressiveness seems to rest entirely on the inclusion of mandates -- which is of course only one way of looking at it), he goes on to say that

Obama has the better foreign policy. While he has been reluctant to lead on Iraq, his foreign policy seems sounder than Clinton. He was correct about the war in Iraq and he has directly challenged the framing of the security issues. He has attacked the politics of fear and the militarization of our foreign policy. His advisors are much less hawkish than Clinton’s, and his rhetoric has been much less “bomb first, ask questions later”. I believe that Clinton is sincere in her hawkishness. I think she and her people actually believe that American military might is an excellent tool for advancing liberal democracy and American interests. Obama is wiser than that.

The decision would seem clear: which of those policies is more important? Unfortunately for me, I don’t think there is much difference in their importance. The American economy and the American people desperately need our broken health care system to be fixed. It is the most important domestic policy consideration with the exception of dealing with climate change. But America desperately needs to understand that empire is no longer a viable foreign policy. Until that happens, America will continually spend more than it should to protect itself and will continue to needlessly create rivals and enemies.

There is one difference between the two issues, however. The progressive infrastructure and, to a certain extent, the country at large are to the left of Obama on this issue. The SEIU is going to spend 75 million dollars to advocate for universal health care. The Congress is likely to be Democratic, and perhaps even very democratic. It is possible, even likely, that the bills that come out of Congress will push Obama to the left on health care. Indeed, the primary criticism has lead him to start talking about punishing the free riders when they do come in for care. Not the best option, but it’s a start. In foreign policy, however, Clinton is solidly in the establishment consensus. Unfortunately for us, it is a bi-partisan consensus, so a Democratic Congress is not likely to push Clinton away from America as Empire. A popular President who advocates the opposite, and who fills the Defense Department and State Department with advocates for his position, is perhaps the best way of changing the terms of the foreign policy debate in this country.

So it’s Obama because where he is wrong there is the good possibility that the electorate and party can make him more right and where he is right he offers a unique opportunity to change the terms of the debate in this country in a very good way for a very long time.

That sounds about right to me.

* * * * *

I don't have the energy (or, really, the desire) to get into the minutia of "pimp-gate" -- which thankfully doesn't seem to have affected the voting this weekend. I have already indicated that I think Clinton is getting some unfair coverage in this election. Let me just throw out the following additional observations and be done with it:

1. I'm sure this is clear already, but just in case: the fact that there is (undeniably) sexism in the media (to whatever extent) is not a sound argument for Clinton's candidacy. Pity is not a good reason to elect someone president. To put it another way: the fact that Clinton is a smart, powerful woman -- and that many people don't like smart, powerful women -- does not mean that those of us who do like smart, powerful women should automatically vote for her. (A Politico commenter refers to a great Susan Sarandon quote: "I have no doubts that a woman can lead this nation. I do, however, have serious doubts about THIS woman.")

2. The Clinton campaign's ultimatum against MSNBC -- punish Shuster or no debate -- betrays exactly the sort of politics-as-usual approach that has so disenchanted me with the Clinton candidacy. And on top of that it makes the issue of Shuster's impropriety seem pettier than it actually is.

3. Robin Morgan could not be more wrong when she says: "I’d rather say a joyful Hello to all the glorious young women who do identify with Hillary, and all the brave, smart men -— of all ethnicities and any age —- who get that it’s [i.e., supporting Clinton is] in their self-interest, too. She’s better qualified. (D’uh.)" Not to put too fine a point on this, but I find it hard to see how Hillary's candidacy is in the best interest of, say, all the Americans who are over in Iraq right now (not to mention all the people who have already died there).

* * * * *

Andrew Sullivan (of all people!) recently cited this interesting article by Tish Durkin. Tish is no direct relation to me, as far as I know. That may explain why the piece is, ahem, brilliant:

If you want to know all there is to know about politics in the time of Clinton, look in your grocer's dairy section. Back in the early days of her New York congressional campaign the future Senator Clinton and the rest of Team Hillary made a crack-of-dawn raid on a supermarket in Rochester, complete with Secret Service, traveling press, local press, an army of Democratic regulars, and a handful of innocents who, God help them, just wanted a gallon of milk. After the greeting portion of the First Lady's visit but before the local-television-interviews portion came the faux-shopping portion, during which Clinton walked up to a huge counter, gazed into a world of Gouda, Swiss, and Cheddar under glass, and exclaimed with no small enthusiasm, "I'm a cheese person!"

It seems odd that this, of all moments to remember in the First Lady's historically unprecedented yet insistently uninteresting run for office, would be among those still blinking neon in the brain so long after the fact—but it isn't, really. Her pronouncement of self-identity as cheese was perfectly emblematic of the First Lady's approach to politics—and not just because it was one of her frequent, almost poignantly stilted attempts to make some kind of ordinary human connection without actually making any kind of ordinary human connection.

[...]

Hillary Clinton has been portrayed by friend and foe alike as all manner of things bold and incendiary—a lightning rod, a firecracker, a trailblazer. As a senatorial candidate, though, she was always a cheese person—or perhaps, to be more precise, a nondairy-processed-cheese-like-product person. She showed up in a lot of places, dressed inoffensively, and spoke in perfect paragraphs. The tone—and, for that matter, the content—of what she had to say would not have seemed out of place coming from Annette Funicello or Florence Henderson in their food-hawking heyday. "Choosy moms choose Hillary!" was not an actual campaign slogan, but only, one presumes, because the Jif people would have gone ballistic.

Wow.

I know we can't exactly say that Hillary Clinton's presidency would mirror her husband's, but I think there is some value in at least remembering what life was like under Bill. One unconventional technique for doing so would be to learn a lot of bad (okay, it's not all bad) pop music from the 90s (like I am doing now for a money gig that I really don't want to talk about, thank you very much). Suffice it to say that, for me, Bill Clinton and Pearl Jam will always be pretty much inseparable.

Anyway, it seems that since the Clinton administration was followed by the worst presidency ever, Bill's progressive shortcomings have significantly faded for most people. Maybe more importantly, there is the issue of circumlocution. Obviously, the key moment (at least in retrospect) was "that depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is." Not because anyone-who-was-not-directly-involved should actually give a shit (one way or the other) about the President's infidelity, but because this unwillingness to "tell it straight" seemed to establish a precedent -- in terms of just how brazenly evasive and deceitful a leader could be -- that would then be exploited (for truly heinous purposes) by Clinton's numbskull successor.

More to the point: how could Hillary continue to share her life with a dude capable of that sort of pathological double-speak and not internalize it as an M.O. somehow?

* * * * *

And finally, there's this: Obama picks up another grammy. Not a reason to vote for him, of course, but at least it makes me feel like we're living in the same universe (however much I dislike the grammies).

I want to take you higher

Physicist discovers how sax players hit high notes.

(You mean sax players didn't know that already?)

Now the secret is out, Mr Chen says it might be possible to teach budding saxophonists how to adjust their playing to hit those high notes.

"I believe its something most people could learn if they were conscious of it and practise hard," he said.

"It won't happen overnight."

Really? Not overnight? Rats.

(Scientists can sure be amusing sometimes.)

Mind your step (or your rudder)

See it enlarged for the full effect (and more details).

Sketches on the draw

Anticipation

When I was a high school sophomore, I briefly (and under great duress) played for the Hanover Park junior varsity basketball team. It's the sort of thing you get sucked into when you are cursed with the genetics of tallness, and when you have an avid sports enthusiast for a dad. (I was horrible at the game -- I don't think I even lasted the season.)

Coach Wear (yes, that really was his name) used to get furious at our team because we had a propensity for generating very, uh, exciting contests -- "exciting" in the sense that the scores were always very close. "You've sure given the audience their money's worth," he would routinely grumble, whether we won or lost.

I'm getting to the point with this primary season where I understand that complaint probably better than ever. I'm fully addicted to the news, but I just want the damned thing to be over. Decisively.

History

I must admit that part of my support of Obama has to do with my daughter (who is half black), and my sense of responsibility for the world she is growing up in (corny, eh?). I know full well the pitfalls of investing in a candidate because of things like race or gender -- but somehow it feels much more significant to me that Thandie could actually enter grammar school during an Obama administration. (Thanks to DJA, I know I'm not the only one.)

It's very rare indeed that the kid ever watches commercial television, but yesterday I made a point of having the primaries on while we were working on a new floor puzzle. Just because something historic is happening.

Physiognomy

It's bunk, I know.

But I have really been expecting the Bag to say something about what I'd call the "Clinton grimace" -- this wide-eyed, jokeresque expression that seems to accompany each of her wins:



[EDIT: here's another, better example:]



I don't know what it means, really, I just noticed it. Perhaps it's not unlike the Dean scream. Or perhaps it's an unconvincing attempt at genuine joy (whoops, am I being presumptuous?). In either case, when the grimace bursts through, it makes the default Hillary appear that much more manufactured, that much more of a professional "mask."

In contrast, Obama seems more consistently integrated, more sure of himself, and, well, less of a liar:



It's remarkable to me that Obama tends to maintain this serious (but approachable) demeanor even in the throes of a victory speech. He seems even-tempered and cool (in the best sense of the word). And I suspect this has something to do with a kind of humility (which I don't have to tell you is ultra-rare in politics).

The first time I wrote about Obama -- in response to his first stirrings toward a possible candidacy -- I remarked at his appearance on Sacha Cohen's Da Ali G Show, and the fact that, unlike most of the other successful, high-profile people Cohen tricked into an interview, Obama didn't for a moment seem to be put out or offended by Mr. G's inane questions about politics. Many of Cohen's other subjects, unable to even fathom that they were being pranked, would typically erupt in anger partway through a discussion, or else would get up and leave the interview entirely (which of course was part of the point). But Obama was a model of equanimity -- it was as if, despite Ali G's clearly questionable intelligence, Obama didn't need to build up his own self-esteem by belittling the ersatz interviewer, but instead genuinely wanted to help him understand whatever issue was under discussion.

Of course, I could be totally mis-remembering this (it was a while ago). Wish I could find the damned clip on YouTube.

Perspective

As before, Publius has it about right:

Another significant aspect of tonight’s "draw" is that it undermines the “inexperience” argument against Obama, or part of it anyway. When people say Obama is inexperienced, they are referring either to (1) the pre-election; or (2) the post-election. With respect to the former, the fear is that he can’t hold up against the GOP machine (or that the risk is too high).

Fighting Clinton – with her universal name recognition – to a draw in a national primary directly refutes Critique #1. (Admittedly, it doesn’t really address #2, the post-election governing). In particular, people need to understand how he pulled tonight's stalemate off. The outcome wasn't the result of a single week of fawning media coverage. That helped, to be sure, but Obama has been meticulously building organizations in all of these states simultaneously for many months. He’s also brought in a ton of money to fund them – more than anyone (ever) at this point.

The bottom line is that if you can build this sort of organization with this much money this far in advance with such efficiency and foresight, then you can do the same thing in a national election. Super Tuesday is about as close to a trial November run as you can get, and Obama’s campaign has been extremely impressive on all fronts.

And then there's this piece of wisdom from Seth Godin:

ATM machines never screw up, voting machines do. A lot.

And here's MSNBC's wrapup, which I cite partly because of this question:

At some point, the question will have to be asked: When or how can he put her away?

Uh... "put her away"? It should be clear that I'm not pulling for Clinton in this campaign, but that phraseology sorta creeped me out.

Testimony

Finally, here's a "movie" of Lawrence Lessig's argument for Obama (link c/o Jill).

Lessig is an intellectual hero of mine, but I must admit I can't stand his fondness for PowerPoint (or his PowerPoint style -- which is nothing like David Byrne's). Still, this piece is informative and sound.

Paper or plastic?

(Apologies in advance to those of you whom I have already approached privately with this questionnaire. Further apologies to those of you whose responses I haven't yet responded to.)

Here's the deal: I'm getting down to the wire with the upcoming IJG release, LEEF (I hope to have it ready in plenty of time for our upcoming California tour). But I've been pondering the mechanics of the follow-through. To wit: I'm seriously considering putting LEEF out in a CD jacket instead of a jewel case.

That's right, I'm talking about a flat cardboard CD sleeve -- either 2-panel or 4-panel. (Not a digipack. I haven't entirely dismissed digipaks as of yet, but they're not my favorite option.) I'm also looking into the possibility of putting the disc in a JakeBox, but my research on that option is still incomplete.

As I've said before, I'm not yet ready to go download-only (much as I'd like to), mostly because we actually sell CDs at gigs and I don't want to lose that income. But I like the idea of getting away from jewel cases. Here are my top three reasons:

1. CDs-in-jackets are more environmentally friendly (no plastic, aside from (optional) shrink-wrap and the plastic in the center of the disc itself),

2. they are easier to tote to gigs, and

3. they are cheaper to manufacture (in a per-panel sense).

More philosophically, there is the whole question of the CD-as-a-format's evolving place in musical culture. I wonder: are we still living in a world in which CDs function as music's "end product" -- i.e., the playback technology of choice for most users? Or are we moving into a situation in which CDs are becoming more of a "delivery medium"?

In other words: people still buy CDs, sure, but what do they do with them exactly? I suspect that most people rip their purchases to iTunes (or some other digital media player), and then primarily listen to that etherealized copy (whether it's an mp3 or something of higher quality). Maybe CDs are now to digital files as LPs were to cassettes back in the seventies and early eighties?

For me the issue at hand is this: if CDs really are becoming more of a delivery medium for most people (and I think they are), why bother with all the fancy physical packaging? Why not something simple and efficient? Why clutter up your shelves with useless plastic casing when all you really need is an envelope or a sleeve?

Actually, a number of "serious" collectors I know don't even bother with shelves anymore. They chuck the packaging outright once they have procured a given album. The CD itself gets ripped, then goes into a binder (perhaps with the liner notes), and everything else goes in the trash, the recycle bin, or a resale box.

On the other hand, there are collectors like this one (who appears in the comments of the last linked article):

As a CD collector, there's nothing that can compare to the tactile feel of a smooth-sided jewel case from an early pressing CD [...] Again, it's back to quality vs. convenience. And convenience is for amateurs.

It's a stance I don't get. Often the response to "why not dispense with jewel cases (or, ultimately, go digital altogether)?" is "because I love the tactile experience of having a collection of CDs lined up on a shelf." But then you never get an answer to the question "why do you love the tactile experience of having a collection of CDs lined up on a shelf?" Does it, like, make the music sound better?

(The psych-enthusiast in me suspects that the underlying reason for the "tactile" argument actually has more to do with questions of social display and identity -- sort of like the books you leave on your coffee table -- than with the music itself.)

Of course, you'll be hard-pressed to find a music fan (yours truly is no exception) who doesn't appreciate a carefully-crafted context (of visual art and words) for the albums they buy. But can't we continue to get a great liner notes / album art experience while simultaneously tempering the materiality of the situation somewhat? An artist can fit some basic eye-catching art and textual details on a well-designed jacket (even of the 2-panel variety). And he or she can then use that initial frame to point a fan to something much more powerful and interactive -- something like a website with in-depth liner notes, interviews, tons of pix, videos, downloadable extras... the sky's the limit. If we can agree that everyone likes a frame for their art, why not choose a frame like that?

In fact, the only serious drawback I can see with the jacket idea is that there would be no spine (or perhaps only a very thin one), which I suspect might discourage brick and mortar retailers from wanting to carry a disc that was so packaged (although indie mainstay CD Baby will indeed sell discs without a spine, as long as there is art and shrinkwrap). Beyond that, I worry too that people are basically conservative when it comes to media, and that the possibility of having to deal with a newfangled packaging format would be enough to frighten them away from a purchase.

Of course, that may just be my paranoia talking. If a music fan is afraid of the newfangled, the chances of them being drawn to an IJG record in the first place are pretty slim.

Anyway, I'm wondering... where do you fall on this question, dear reader? Would the idea that something was being released as a CD-in-a-jacket deter you as a consumer? Would it excite you? Would it matter at all (i.e., am I overthinking this)?

Fair is fair

In response to this CL ad:

Beaverton Town Square Starbucks is reaching out to musicians and bands alike to come play for us. Gigs would be Fridays and Saturdays at 9pm, sorry but we can't offer reinbursment of any kind, but you can sell cd's and put out a tip jar. We don't provide equipment, and we don't comp drinks. If interested E-mail Paul at "blackbox098@gmail.com" for more information.

Thank you and we hope to hear from you.

There was this:

Come make coffee for me at my home!

I am reaching out to all Starbucks to come to my home and make coffee for me. The gig would be Fridays and Saturdays and sorry, I can't offer reimbursement of any kind, but you can put out your tip jar. I don't provide equipment, and I don't comp donuts. If interested email me for more information.

Thank you and I hope to hear from you.

It's all here.

I can see your house from here...

The new web trend map is out.

(For those who like superimposition.)

(Or practical jokes?)

Some commentary.

Who are you?

Alright. I'm going to be very picky for a moment.

A pox upon the individual who started the conceit by which bands are described (or describe themselves) in terms of other musical artists confabbing in some kind of hypothetical scenario, all of which is supposed to convince a reader how good the music in question is.

Here's an example that I came across in a recent Entertainment Weekly. The subject is Vampire Weekend, but since they didn't actually write the sentence, I don't feel bad quoting it here:

Imagine New Order sitting down with Paul Simon and talking about the first Talking Heads record, while Pavement plays over the cafeteria loudspeakers.

For one thing, I'm a little confused re: the analogy. The author (Randall Poster, a well-known music supervisor for film) is comparing the music to -- what? A conversation in a cafeteria?

(A cafeteria?)

Like I said, I'm being picky. Maybe grouchy too. But to my ear, this trope (it's a popular one) fails every time. It's what George Orwell would probably have called a "prefabricated henhouse" solution to the (admittedly boring) task of listing an artist's influences and the (admittedly challenging) task of trying to describe an artist's sound.

This is not to downplay the sad truth (for those of us in the "music is the part that matters" camp) that most people are more likely to read (or, probably more accurately, to see) something about a band before they ever hear the actual music. Obviously, the words have to tell.

But why not play with the limitations of language vis a vis music? Make the influences clear, but then come up with something more creative to get the point across? Invent a genre, say?

Hell, VW does this themselves, right on the front page of their freakin' website, when they write

We are specialists in the following styles: "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa", "Upper West Side Soweto", "Campus", and "Oxford Comma Riddim."

That made me laugh. And call me crazy, but it made me far more interested in actually checking out the band.

(Which I just did. Alas, the music is not taking my grouchiness away, but maybe it's just one of those days...)

A late-night tertiary primary post

Larry Lessig has been doing some brilliant blogging about the horse race (a development that has apparently been in line with a re-focusing of his intellectual efforts -- from copyright issues to corruption in politics).

Here's a recent post (pre-South Carolina) that makes a number of insightful points. F'r'instance:

Let's start with the disappointment: Debates are not Obama's forte. If he were running for Prime Minister, I'd have second thoughts. I can't understand why he isn't better prepared for the obvious exchange that was going to happen. It took way too long to get to (w/r/t the Reagan absurdity): "I obviously don't agree with his ideas and never said I did, and indeed, I worked against them." It took way too long to get to (w/r/t the "present vote" issue): "In the US Senate, voting present would be bad Senatoring. In the Illinois Senate, it is how the system works. My 180 votes out of 4000 is just the same as ...." And w/r/t health care, he never got to "my plan IS universal because it is made available, in an affordable way, to everyone. I just don't believe in fining poor people. I believe in helping them." Again and again, the echo of Obama's message was "it's legitimate for us to disagree about ..." What good is that line doing -- especially given the completely illegitimate charges raised against him by HRC? Someone has go sit him down and force him to spit back 10 second responses to these questions. It isn't rocket science. It is practice and training.

Who better to pick up on this sort of thing than a lawyer? (Oh, wait, Obama was a lawyer too...)

Anyway, after further explicating a few of last week's more astounding Clinton fibs, Lessig wraps things up with these observations:

We've heard this about the Clintons from the start: they would do anything. But watching her utter words she knows are false, or words which even if technically true, create a plainly false impression, was, again, disgusting. Just how small is this person now apparently leading the Democrats? Just how small have we become?

Now of course I am totally open to the charge of naivete. But I don't think it just naivete. When you think about all the virtues that Obama plainly has over HRC -- indeed, in some ways, the Reaganesque ability to inspire, set a vision, speak across divides, etc. -- this cheapness feels different. The loss seems greater.

I might quibble with the word "naivete" here -- as someone who has argued before the Supreme Court, and helped to spearhead a movement that routinely challenges the assumptions (if not the actions) of some of the most powerful forces on earth -- Lessig has probably had to wrestle with more than his share of ugly realities. Doing so does not require naivete, but something more like "passionate idealism."

What a strange concept, that! Especially for a cynic like me. And especially in the early years of a century like this.

Yet I too find myself entertaining the possibility of cultural and political optimism when I consider the Obama candidacy. It's not quite a "last fifteen minutes of Return of the Jedi" moment -- but I find myself imagining that we may actually make it out of this mess yet.

Why? Could it be desperation? Perhaps. In any case, it's deeper than the buzzwords of "change" or "hope" or "political outsider" -- though those are relevant. For me, it comes down to the question of tone.

In music -- as in many other areas of expression -- tone is crucial. Of course, "getting the notes right" is important too, regardless of whether they are "your" notes (in an improvisation, say) or you're reading them off somebody else's page. But tone is the sine qua non of personality, emotion, individuality, narrative. Tone is what makes sound sing. (Of course, it's also frustratingly difficult to quantify.)

Is it naive (or delusional) to try and imagine a new mood for this fucking country? Doesn't everything start with the imagination?

Like rats on a sinking ship...

For anyone who is still of the opinion that the RIAA's fight against illegal downloading (and piracy in general) has anything to do with a sense of responsibility to the artists (as opposed to the big institutions that live off the artists), there is this.

A long-ish excerpt (the italics are mine):

On Monday, January 28, the Copyright Royalty Board (CRB) begins the hearing that will determine mechanical rates for every songwriter and music publisher in America. It will be the most important rate hearing in the history of the music industry because in addition to setting rates for physical products, rates will be set for the first time ever for digital products such as digital downloads, subscription services and ringtones.

The National Music Publishers' Association (NMPA) will be representing the interests of songwriters and music publishers and will be fighting vigorously to protect those interests to ensure that musical compositions are compensated fairly.

On the other side of this fight stands the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and the Digital Music Association (DiMA). Both the RIAA and DiMA have proposed significant reductions in mechanical royalty rates that would be disastrous for songwriters and music publishers. This is literally a fight for the survival of our industry.

To give you an example of what is at stake, the current rate for physical phonorecords is 9.1 cents. The NMPA is proposing an increase to 12.5 cents per song. The RIAA, however, has proposed slashing the rate to approximately 6 cents a song - a cut of more than one-third the current rate!

For permanent digital downloads, NMPA is proposing a rate of 15 cents per track because the costs involved are much less than for physical products. The RIAA has proposed the outrageous rate of approximately 5 - 5.5 cents per track, and DiMA is proposing even less.

If you find that troubling, it gets worse. For interactive streaming services, which some analysts believe will be the future of the music industry, NMPA is proposing a rate of the greater of 12.5% of revenue, 27.5% of content costs, or a micro-penny calculation based on usage. The RIAA actually proposed that songwriters and music publishers should get the equivalent of .58% of revenue. This isn't a typo - less than 1%. And DiMA is taking the shocking and offensive position that songwriters' and music publishers' mechanical rights should be zero, because DiMA does not believe we have any such rights!

And here's the "official notice" of the hearing, with an extensive list of all the documents submitted in the case.

The couple who follows the horse race together...

...well, let's just say it's a good thing we share the same political affiliation. (Though she is a bit more of an Edwards fan than I.)

Anyhow, we recently got some discursive mileage out of the following topical items:

First: Eugene Robinson in the Washington Post. How wonderful to see a progressively-oriented journalist who finally had the cajones to not only point out the aggressiveness of the Clinton campaign, but to contextualize Obama's controversial comments on the asshole-in-chief who helped make my adolescence so unpleasant (you know the one):

Obama's candidacy not only threatens to obliterate the dream of a Clinton Restoration. It also fundamentally calls into question Bill Clinton's legacy by making it seem . . . not really such a big deal.

That, I believe, is the unforgivable insult. The Clintons picked up on this slight well before Obama made it explicit with his observation that Ronald Reagan had "changed the trajectory of America in a way that Richard Nixon did not and in a way that Bill Clinton did not."

Let's take a moment to consider that remark. Whether it was advisable for Obama to play the role of presidential historian in the midst of a no-holds-barred contest for the Democratic nomination, it's hard to argue with what he said. I think Bill Clinton was a good president, at times very good. And I wouldn't have voted for Reagan if you'd held a gun to my head. But even I have to recognize that Reagan -- like Margaret Thatcher in Britain and Mikhail Gorbachev in the Soviet Union -- was a transformational figure, for better or worse.

Bill Clinton's brilliance was in the way he surveyed the post-Reagan landscape and figured out how to redefine and reposition the Democratic Party so that it became viable again. All the Democratic candidates who are running this year, including Obama, owe him their gratitude.

But Obama has set his sights higher, and implicit in his campaign is a promise, or a threat, to eclipse Clinton's accomplishments. Obama doesn't just want to piece together a 50-plus-1 coalition; he wants to forge a new post-partisan consensus that includes "Obama Republicans" -- the equivalent of the Gipper's "Reagan Democrats." You can call that overly ambitious or even naive, but you can't call it timid. Or deferential.

I was completely in earnest with my above characterization of Reagan -- I found it very tedious (and often miserable) growing up amid the cookie-cutter dreariness of not only his political leadership, but also the cultural tone he set for the country. So I understand why even the mention of his name inspires wrath in the progressive community. But even my second-favorite living newcaster, Keith Olbermann -- my first favorite is Bill Moyers -- was basically unfair to Obama in the aftermath of the Reagan comments, framing the story with a downright scolding tone, and utterly failing to contextualize it (as Eric Zorn rightly points out, Obama never spoke approvingly of the actual content of Reagan's ideas). Up until that point, it seemed very much that there had been a kind of hunger building in the mainstream media, a sense of anticipation that could only be fulfilled when Obama finally tripped up somehow. And if he didn't trip up? Well, at the time it almost felt like somebody wanted to push him.

How interesting, incidentally, that this has become the close-reading, new critical election! (Thank heavens for transcripts, eh?) Silly me, thinking that a PhD in English Literature was worthless.

Item number two is this hilarious item from that paragon of quality journalism: C-N-fucking-N. Interestingly, it's a self-critique (I suppose when it comes down to it, CNN doesn't care whether you love or hate them, as long as you watch / read what they publish). The flap is essentially over the cable station's somewhat simplistic argument that black women will have a hard time choosing their candidate in this year's democratic primaries, because they will be conflicted over going with a racial choice (Obama) vs. a gender choice (Clinton).

Daphne's favorite part is also mine:

An e-mailer named Tiffany responded sarcastically [to the original CNN report]: "Duh, I'm a black woman and here I am at the voting booth. Duh, since I'm illiterate I'll pull down the lever for someone. Hm... Well, he black so I may vote for him... oh wait she a woman I may vote for her... What Ise gon' do? Oh lordy!"

* * * * *
And how 'bout them campaign theme songs?

Romney has used Elvis Presley's "A Little Less Conversation" as his entrance music to convey his can-do style -- in other words, less talk, more action. But Romney's supporters might just want to ignore the part of the song where Elvis tells his paramour to "close your mouth and . . . satisfy me, baby."

Now that's going to give me nightmares for sure.

Popping the balloon, no. 2

I just realized something: a little way into the Led Zeppelin tune "Hey Hey What Can I Do," the lyric goes like this:

Sunday morning when we go down to church
See the menfolk standin' in line

And I ask you, Robert Plant: "menfolk"?

Really?

Is that the word you wanted there, no foolin'?

Speaking of jobs...

How would you like to be one of the drones at the Blue Ball Machine?

I have actually worked in factories that seemed very much like this -- a long time ago, of course.

My favorite bit is the pair of stick figures, one expressing surprise, one expressing a query of some sort. See 'em?

Also fun: opening four or five windows of this simultaneously -- so that you have four or five soundtracks running slightly out of phase. (I just discovered that this drives my cats crazy.)

Ah, modernity.

LEEF trax: "The Job Song"

Those of you who have been checking the IJG MySpace site (and considering the clunky functionality of MySpace, why the fuck would you?!) may have noticed that I recently started sneaking in a few close-to-final mixes from the upcoming IJG album (which will indeed be called LEEF).

I'll have more to say about the album in a bit (I'm taking a pass at mastering it this weekend), but for now I just wanted to alert everyone to the fact that I have "released" a "digital single" of sorts, via one of the (seemingly) millions of new music / networking websites out there. To wit: "The Job Song" (in a higher quality version than that found on MySpace) is now available at the new music site Amie Street.

Amie Street is based on a pretty good idea, actually. For one thing it incentivizes musical curiosity -- "early adopters" of a particular song or album are "rewarded" by not having to pay top dollar for it (actually, on Amie Street there is no such thing as top dollar: the highest price any track can attain is 98 cents). The price rises with the track's popularity -- the more it is downloaded, the more it costs. As of this writing, "The Job Song" is up to a whopping 9 cents! (Hey, I just posted it on Monday.)

It seems to me that the motivation to listen works the other way as well... once a track has made it to the 98 cent mark, that might suggest (to a casual observer) that it has passed an early test of likeablity. (Not that the tracks who don't make it to the 98 cent mark are no good. From the artist's perspective, there is still a certain amount of luck involved here: one can only roll the dice and hope that the music will reach the sort of people who can enjoy it).

I dunno, it's all too new for me to be sure of the longer-term implications. But I sure do like any model that seems to be about empowering music fans.

* * * * *

And now: more than you can possibly want to know about the tune in question.



"The Job Song" was the first thing I wrote for the Evelyn Situation, the NJ-based spastic vocal ensemble I headed up back in the early nineties (this group also featured IJG singer Jill Knapp: for those of you who don't recognize her without the bee costume, she's the left-most head in the above promo shot). If I recall correctly, I brought it to the Evelyns sans title, and it was vocalist Donna Van Der Gaag (the middle head) who started calling it "The Job Song" -- a generic-but-quirky title that somehow stuck.

Since 1995, when Evelyn broke up and I moved to California, I have re-worked this fucker probably more than anything else I've written. The Evelyn arrangement was basically a full-on polka affair, of which a recording was made but never released. "Never," that is, until that group morphed into a studio project called Jay's Booming Hat. And when that studio project briefly morphed into a live JBH project, I arranged two other versions. So in all, there are four versions of this tune: the pure polka (circa 1993-1998), the moody acoustic version (1998), the arty jazz version (1999-2000), and the wacky jazz (IJG) version (2005-now). The latter is the version that will be released on LEEF, and which you can hear on Amie Street.

(Still following this?)

The IJG-ified version of "The Job Song" is characterized by some of the same tactics I have been bringing to bear in a lot of our other music. For one thing, it features two judiciously-placed musical quotes. There is the "Pomp and Circumstance" march that gets layered over the third verse (the verse that begins: "Having just finished school"), which results in all kinds of groovy harmonic tension. (BTW, am I the only one who feels that "P & C," though associated with graduation ceremonies, is actually more like a funeral dirge? I know, I know, it's in a major key, but if you've ever performed it, doesn't it always... seem... just... destined... to... slow... way... the... fuck... down...? Hard to imagine that the thing got two encores at its premiere.)

The other quote, which kicks in during the closing chaos, is from Beck's slacker anthem "Loser." I actually improvised this quote at the piano during a performance in San Francisco in 2006, and then edited it into the soprano parts shortly afterward (cuz no one can really hear the piano at the end of this tune). Aside from the Beck song's thematic parallels with the lyrical content of "The Job Song" (in different ways, they both express dissatisfaction with "the system," yeah?), the former (and all of Mellow Gold, actually) was one of those recordings that helped me mark my transition from New Jersey to LA in the mid 90s -- so quoting it helps to bridge the NJ and LA versions of "The Job Song," at least in my own mind.

And speaking of bridges: if you compare the IJG "Job Song" with the original, you may notice that the jazz waltz that kicks in at around 1:18 (in the IJG version) actually splits the song's "bridge" section in half. The bridge is the part that begins

Well don't you want to be like the people on TV
So bored and jaded and doing something that you have always hated?

After those lines, the bridge is cut off by the waltz. And only after the waltz is over do we get to hear the second half of the bridge:

Just give in -- how could it be a sin?
The big machine must keep on rolling on.

In part, this is me making fun of my own penchant for tightly-constructed bridges (tightly-constructed bridges were an obsession of mine during the Evelyn years). But the waltz is also logically placed, because it is meant to be an example of "something you have always hated." There's a certain amount of (affectionate) kidding going on here, but the idea is that the waltz is supposed to sound a bit corny, a bit too much like commercial, library jazz. This may make more sense if you consider that I wrote the waltz much earlier, sometime around 1988, when I was at Berklee (getting my first taste of what commercial/library jazz actually is). That piece was originally called "Waltz for Wanda," but when I played it with Jill in one of our pre-Evelyn bands, she dubbed it "Waltz for Weather," because of the way it sounded like background music for the Weather Channel. All of these seemed to me to be great reasons to resurrect the thing for a second (ironic) life within an IJG arrangement.

I guess underlying all this stuff is the question of humor. After the various jazz blogosphere threads on this subject over the last year or so, I'm still stuck thinking about what exactly constitutes musical humor for me. In this tune, some of it is obvious -- the lyrics, for instance -- or programmatic (the descending horn part just before each chorus is meant to sound like wicked laughter). Some of the humor is derived from things I have already mentioned, like the quotes (which are supposed to be surprising the first few times around). However, I suspect that these things are all "funny" (to the extent that they are) in relation to the "real world," or more specifically, in the case of the quotations, in relation to the associations that go along with already-existing music, and the ways those associations are juxtaposed with the thematic content of this tune.

But there is also the question of the ways in which music can be in and of itself funny, without reference to extra-musical concerns like satire or social context. To me, this sort of "inherently musical humor" (which I hear done so beautifully in the music of Zappa, Satie, Monk, Raymond Scott, Carla Bley) might have to do with (for instance) something as simple as the unexpected or (at first glance) "illogical" shape of a melody. In "The Job Song," forcing Jill to jump a full octave (and higher) on the word "job" in the chorus is, to me, fairly comical for exactly this reason (though I don't suppose Jill finds it too funny because it ain't the easiest thing in the world to sing). But there are better examples from my own music -- I'll get to them whenever I'm able to write about the other cuts on the new album (i.e., soon).

Another example of "inherent musical humor": introducing a simple idea and taking it to some absurd extreme, like the descent into noise at the end of this track, which probably doesn't really need to go on for as long as it does.

And speaking of going on too long, I'll shut up now.

A: 100

Q: How many pieces were in the floor puzzle that Thandie did (entirely by herself) the other day?

(Here's the one.)

There are still a few months left until she turns four.

So I've decided: to hell with Obama, I'm going to write this kid in for president.

(Sorry: I'll try to keep Annoyingly Proud Dad (aka APD) away from this computer keyboard from now on...)