Market Share Report

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But I thought EMI was history, on the brink of extinction, how could Terra Firma's company almost equal the Warner Music Group in new release market share, only half a percentage point separating the two?

HitsDailyDouble has an exhaustive market share report:

http://hitsdailydouble.com/news/newsPage.cgi?news07997m01

You may have to register first, but it's free, and you should check the site on a regular basis, there's a plethora of information. But be sure to check for biases, both positive and negative. Their vendetta against Lyor and Warner seems to be done now that they're getting paid, but I haven't quite figured out their problem with Randy Phillips. I thought the "Hits" guys were radio mavens, who moved into management as the business caved. Guess they want some of that tour money too...

Anyway, the reason EMI is doing so well is because of one album, Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now", which has sold one and a half million copies so far this year (complete chart here: http://www.hitsdailydouble.com/special/market/hits_marketshare_2010_03.htm)

And why did Sony essentially equal perennial market share winner Universal? Can you say Sade and Susan Boyle? Which sold 990,000 albums and 553,000 respectively?

And why is Jimmy Iovine's IGA second in label new release market share? Can you say Lady GaGa? Placing at number 3, with 553,000 and number 10, with 334,000?

Ain't that an interesting spread. Number one, Lady Antebelleum's album, sold 1.2 million more than GaGa's "Fame Monster", number ten.

In other words, now, more than ever, the major label game is about hits.

They don't want your single. And by this I don't mean track, rather I'm employing a baseball metaphor. You can argue they want home runs, but I'd say the major label game is really about grand slams.

I can't fault them for this, they're businesses. But what if you're an act, do you belong in this game?

If you think you can sell tonnage, if you make radio and TV-friendly music, take your chances. If you're looking to build to a solid touring base, despite lip-service, the major can't be bothered. EMI is fighting for its life, actually, it's already dead, they're just arguing in court over potential fraud in the inducement by Citibank. Do you really want to put your developing act on EMI?

Or even Sony. Sure, Susan Boyle and Sade rain down cash, but the company just wants new winners of the same stature. So maybe they'll start you, but they might finish you too. As in jumping ship to something that shows major traction, leaving you to languish in signed to the label hell.

And usually, you're signed to a 360 deal, so even if you're working on the road, you're working for the label. Which is doing exactly what for you?

It's interesting to question whether these sales numbers evidence Long Tail backlash. Whether it's about winners more than small sales for the truly obscure. But looking at the spread between the number one and ten albums on the chart shows that it's about very few winners!

The majors created their game. Blame MTV, the concomitant resurgence of Top Forty radio, media manipulation by Clive Davis and Tommy Mottola. They've been so busy swinging for the fences, that's all they know how to do.

Hell, they've fired all the little people who help you build slowly.

Sure, Kings Of Leon broke through, but how many other acts have been nurtured from obscurity to mainstream success? You need immediate action, and at least gold at the end of the sales curve in order to continue to get attention. So if you're performing anything but mainstream music, if your act and music need time to develop, run from the major label system.

You've got to be willing to slog it out until you get lucky. The major labels try to force luckiness. But the hype and the fakery end up turning people off. GaGa is so big, she's got nowhere to go but down. And there's not another GaGa stealing attention. It's kind of like the Tiger Woods crisis, it festers forever in the public consciousness, because no one that big is willing to do something that stupid. GaGa should be toning it down, reducing expectations in order to achieve longevity, instead we've got press stories about a billion video views... Shit, anything that ubiquitous is headed for overload and ultimate obscurity. Hell, ask my buddy Peter Frampton, he went for the gold after his big hit album, played to the masses with "I'm In You" and the "Sgt. Pepper" film, and still has regained neither his credibility nor sales. Who to blame? Management! Which steered him wrong.

How's the major gonna steer you?

Are they even interested in you?

Are they going to be around long enough to see you through five albums? Or, if the name remains, will the employees sustain?

Interesting times.

The Real Crisis

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The biggest crisis facing the music business isn't pricing, of either music or concerts, but the lack of a filter telling people what to listen to.

You may decry "American Idol", but at least it assembles a mass of eyeballs to pay attention to new performers. Yes, the music is well-known, but the performers are not. How can we get people to pay attention to new music?

Not via record reviews. That paradigm is shot. There are no trusted reviewers. And there's so much product. Hyped to high heaven because the purveyors want to get rich. And it costs so much to listen to it.

Yes, in time. Time is very expensive. Who wants to spend it looking for a needle in a haystack? And how much new music can one listen to anyway?

Actually, the original concept of Top Forty was not beat-infused, genre-specific mindless tripe. It was akin to what Gene Simmons says Kiss delivers, but we laugh about. What does the painted band begin its shows by saying..."You wanted the best, you got the best?" Or maybe it's "deserve the best"... The point isn't to laud Kiss, which needs no benefits, its hard core keeping the band alive, but to point out that if there was a radio station, Website or TV show that truly played/delineated/showcased the best music, people would be attracted to it and new music would flourish. Hell, that's what happened with Top Forty twice...in the sixties and early eighties.

But this would require leaving most music out. And refusing to play games with those with deep pockets, i.e. labels or rich individuals like Sam Adams. The same great cuts would have to be banged again and again. And if there was no good new music, then the old would have to be continued to be featured.

Don't tell me radio is dead. Don't tell me everyone's got their favorite Website. Don't tell me it's solely about word of mouth. I AGREE, I'm just pointing out an opportunity, for an entrepreneur who truly cares about music and wants to make a fortune.

It's not about the iPhone app. It's not about the ads on the Website. It's not about technology at all. That's what's been wrong with the past decade, it's been about science and marketing, not music. Everybody wants to get rich. From the wannabe acts to Tim Westergren and Pandora to the endless purveyors of music distribution platforms. No one's focusing on the music! And that's why we're hurting.

Sure, there's good music out there. But how do you get people to pay attention? Certainly not by allowing makers to spam, with endless unsolicited notices, and even MP3s, clogging up your inbox. It's about culling the best. And letting people know about it.

And it's got to be very good. Because few have the time.

But so many have the desire.

Ask people where they find out about new music. Baby boomers will be dumbfounded, college students will talk about friends and a small universe of acts and the prepubescent will rave about the hits on today's radio and in gossip columns, but what happens when they reach adolescence and want something meatier?

This is a huge crisis. And it's not unsolvable. But it does require a lot of thinking. And a lot of listening. The solution is less about building infrastructure than analysis. We all want great music, who's gonna serve it to us?

Winged Bull

Cover of Beauty on a Back Street

Bobby Gale tweeted about "Out Of Touch". He's got a regular routine going, Song Gem Of The Day. Follow him at: http://twitter.com/Bobby_Gale

"Out Of Touch" is off "Big Bam Boom", not a bad Hall & Oates album if you're into their later period, cut before they jumped to Arista and Clive killed their career (just ask them...) But it doesn't compare with "Winged Bull".

I visited Hall & Oates in the record store. I saw their "Abandoned Luncheonette" album. Was always interested in the band, any act produced by Todd Rundgren got my attention, but I didn't lay down my cash until "Bigger Than Both Of Us". It was "Rich Girl".

"You're a rich girl and you've gone too far 'Cause you know it don't matter anyway You can rely on the old man's money You can rely on the old man's money..."

What was so fucking great about "Rich Girl" was there was no introduction. No deejay could speak over a superfluous instrumental, Daryl Hall started singing from the VERY BEGINNING!

So intimately. Like he was sitting next to a princess on the couch, reading her the reality act. But then the guitar stuttered, the strings came in like a Barry White record and suddenly you were surfing the stratosphere, on a magic carpet that lasted another two minutes... Shit, it lasted FOREVER! Because you had to hear the song again and again and AGAIN! Some songs, some tracks are just so RIGHT that you wonder how you lived without them previously. It's like stumbling on an oasis in the desert, you sport a shiteating grin as you partake of the elixir.

I drove straight to the record store. And "Bigger Than Both Of Us" delivered. Dial up "Do What You Want, Be What You Are"...it could only be cut by denizens of Philadelphia, Hall & Oates may have been white, but they'd completely digested the black music of the metropolis, they distilled it absolutely perfectly, and like all great soul music, "Do What You Want, Be What You Are" is not dated in the least, it sounds just as fresh today as it did back in '76.

Then came "Beauty On A Back Street"... You know, the follow-up album with a wannabe hit that stiffs and takes the whole album down the toilet with it.

That wannabe hit was the opening number, entitled "Don't Change"... Whew! How to explain how much I love this number. Like stumbling into a dim basement at two in the morning and being injected with speed. You know perfect singles that are so perfect they're too good for the radio? That's "Don't Change".

And despite trying, Hall & Oates didn't break through again for years. The Hall & Oates you hate, the yacht rock band, was born years later, on another stiff album entitled "Voices" that suddenly came alive with "Kiss On My List" and "You Make My Dreams".

The band had been playing clubs. They'd even resorted to doing covers, like we needed another take of the Righteous Brothers' "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'". But "You Make My Dreams"... It was like "Rich Girl", it exploded out of the radio, from the very first note you were hooked. Instead of sounding calculated, "You Make My Dreams" seemed to be a middle finger to the business, something dashed off in an instant that made the band happy, damn the industry.

Listen to the track... What makes it so great? That incredible keyboard change, the "oohs", that incredible change two thirds of the way through or Daryl Hall's vocal...so off the cuff, so right.

Suddenly, Hall & Oates were back on the hit parade. DESERVEDLY SO!

Still, my favorite Hall & Oates number comes from further back, on that stiff album entitled "Beauty On A Back Street". "Winged Bull" is buried deep in the second side, the second to last track, but one listen was enough to stop you in your tracks.

Let's say you had a bad day. You wanted to come home and put on a record. This was 1977 not 2010, when all music is bottom-heavy and in your face. Subtlety's out the window, today you're immediately going for the balls and the tits, you want to squeeze both. But would you ever fall in love with someone who approached you this way?

Doubtful.

So, you come home from that bad day, and you want a track that soothes you, that's not wimpy, that radiates quality. An adventure, that sets your mind free.

That's "Winged Bull".

Like a cross between Jimi Hendrix and Mountain if they were trying to please a girl. There's an otherworldly caterwaul, and then Daryl comes in from the wings, singing so sweetly.

But this ain't no tender trap, a nauseatingly sweet number that makes you puke, the instrumentation evidences an ethereal quality, and as the number progresses, it build in intensity. Its four minutes and thirty six seconds are a tour de force.

And it's these tours de force that made us music fanatics, had us addicted, going to the record store each and every week on a hunt for magic. And the acts knew we were looking, so they tried to satiate us. Music wasn't cheap, it wasn't lowest common denominator, anything but... The acts were shooting for the stars, and we were boarding that rocket ship without a second thought, like the earthlings boarding the spaceship in that famous "Twilight Zone" episode, "To Serve Man".

I'm not a fan of hits, I'm a fan of music.

I don't give a shit what you say about Hall & Oates' eighties outfits, their videos, you're missing the point. These are extremely talented guys who kept experimenting, and persevered so long they could throw off Top Forty hits with no effort. And for this you criticize them?

That's a talent. To create something so ear-pleasing, something so IRRESISTIBLE! You wanna know why no one is interested in your career, why you can't get any traction, why no one gives a shit? Just spin "Rich Girl" or "You Make My Dreams" or any other one of Hall & Oates' monster hits and then play one of yours...see the difference?

But I'm not talking about the hit here. I'm talking about the album track. Because it used to be the hits were the invitation, the gold atop the surface that got you to dig, to find the subterranean gems.

"Winged Bull" is a masterpiece.

The fact that few know it is irrelevant.

The best music takes you away to a special place where nothing else matters, where you feel powerful, where you feel understood.

That's "Winged Bull".

Track 8, LISTEN!: http://music.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=music.artistalbums&albumid=8084394&friendid=192662184

WORD OF MOUTH

Image via CrunchBase

First and foremost comes a good product.

Requiring no admission fee, no college degree, no qualifications whatsoever, the music business is peopled by hucksters, who employ myriad scams to get you to pay attention to their wares.

But it doesn't work.

Used to. Back when there was limited distribution, when bribing a deejay to play your song got you a leg up. But who buys music because it's got a high iTunes chart position? Sam Adams worked the system in order to get meetings with major labels. But then what? If they sign him, they might market and promote him, but that doesn't mean his music will sell. Because only good music sells.

Sucks, I know. Makes it much more difficult for you. You can't get any traction outside your family and friends. The system's rigged against you. Bullshit. If you were actually good, you'd blow up. We've got people surfing the Web 24/7 looking for good stuff, dying to tell their peeps about it.

In Wednesday's "Wall Street Journal" there's a story about Porter Airlines. I wouldn't have bothered to read it except for the fact that in Toronto, my ear was bent constantly about the carrier.

People waxed rhapsodic. The terminal was downtown-adjacent! The planes had leather seats! The flight attendants were all decked out like the sixties! There was a brand new terminal! And you only had to check in minutes before!

If Porter does any advertising, I'm clueless. But having heard the rap so much, I started spreading the word too. When Seymour Stein told me he was having trouble flying back to New York I asked him, had he tried Porter?

Porter is triumphing with a good product. And it's being sold by its users. Kind of like Google.

I remember the turning point. A phone call with a non-tech savvy friend about a decade ago. She was telling me about some Web-activity and referenced "Googling" something.

This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I'd been ignoring the search engine, I was a fan of HotBot, but now I had to try Google out, now that the hoi polloi were employing it. Hell, the hoi polloi could barely surf the Web. If Google gave them answers...

I switched to Google overnight.

But it gets better. Not only did I become a user, but a fan. I was thrilled when Apple installed the Google search window in the Safari toolbar. Yeah! It was like my favorite team scoring a touchdown. This is what people don't realize about Steve Jobs' company. We not only buy the products, we're believers. We're interested in everything Apple does. Kick the tires on new products? Shit, sometimes we buy them without even experiencing them first. Ergo, iPad pre-orders.

But it only works if you've got a killer product.

It starts with a track. And from that track, you can build a career. Just like the iPod got people to buy iPhones and Macs. Give someone a taste of an exquisite product, and they're on board.

And it's not about speed. Hell, the twenty first century is littered with products that were hits overnight and disappeared almost instantly. You've got to let the audience discover you. You've got to let people believe it's their choice. Shit, Apple is one cold computer company. But their stores are warm, the customer service is great. And this pays dividends.

Let's focus on service. Because the initial product is not the end of the relationship. Point is, you want a relationship. Dell's lame overseas customer service ended up decimating the company. Apple's made in America customer service gets people testifying. See the difference?

The music business has been about batting people over the head to sell them a product once. You bought it. It sucks? That's your problem. Furthermore, we rip you off at every turn. Just try getting a good concert ticket...what's up with that? Hell, the experience buying an airline ticket is better!

So focus on the music. There's nothing wrong with updating your Facebook page, tweeting away. But those elements are never going to make you. It's your music that's your calling card. And if your music is good enough, it will be embraced by fans and the word will be spread. No one sits at home waiting for their favorite song to come on the radio anymore... Shit, if you like something you can e-mail a friend the MP3, point to a YouTube page, there are many entry points for exposure.

You don't stand out because of the penumbra. Shit, even J. Lo lost her Sony gig. It's no longer how good you look, who you know, who you hang with... It's about the tunes.

Don't point out the exceptions. Those acts tend to be here today and gone tomorrow. Furthermore, this is a twenty first century change. When so much is available, when marketing is abhorred and tuned out, the only people we listen to are our friends. We trust them.

Marketing is the final step these days. It's about positioning. It's about imaging. Like those iPod billboards. They don't tell you much, they just remind you how hip the product is.

So don't bother attending marketing seminars. Don't listen to the major label tell you how it used to be. Just practice, practice, practice. Make something insanely great. And post it online. Hell, give it away for free. Because if it's really good, people will ultimately clamor around you to give you their money...for concert tickets, t-shits and signed CDs, even if they only listen to MP3s. Because believers need badges of honor. They want to evidence what's close to their hearts. It's the key to logos on clothing. Shit, no one wants to sport a JCPenney or Wal-Mart logo just like no one wants to help you sell your lame music. But Louis Vuitton?

And, in case you didn't know... That LV luggage lasts FOREVER!

ALEX CHILTON

Image by ojimbo via Flickr

THE LETTER

My introduction to rock music wasn't on television, not even radio, but the jukebox, at the Nutmeg Bowl. After a couple of strings I'd find myself peering through the glass, studying the tracks, waiting for my parents to pick me up.

That's where I first heard "Dawn (Go Away)" and "I Get Around".

I heard "Pretty Woman" on the jukebox at the JCC.

And I heard "The Letter" on the jukebox at Bromley, the ski area where I spent my youth in Peru, Vermont.

The old wooden base lodge, built by Fred Pabst with his beer money long before ski areas were about real estate, featured an alcove, in the very back, where worn out at the end of the day we listened to the jukebox.

"The Letter" is one minute and fifty two minutes long. Tell that to today's artists filling up entire CDs. It was and remains solely about quality. And "The Letter" was quality. A great song, with a brilliant intro, but what put it over the top was the vocal of one Alex Chilton.

"Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane
Ain't got time to take a fast train"

This was before air travel was de rigueur. When you still dressed up to fly, were scared shitless the plane was going to crash and the ticket cost a fortune.

"I don't care how much money I gotta spend Got to get back to my baby again"

URGENCY! That's what you heard in Alex Chilton's voice. No, he didn't write the song, but he made it his own. This wasn't an "American Idol" contestant singing for a record contract, one got the idea this record was cut on a dark rainy night and leaked out by accident. In an era where so much of what was featured on the AM band was sunny, there was a darkness to "The Letter". Chalk it up to Memphis. Or Dan Penn. Or both.


CRY LIKE A BABY

Anybody can have one hit. But can you do it twice?


NEON RAINBOW

A cross between the New Vaudeville Band and Petula Clark, if the Box Tops hadn't hit before, "Neon Rainbow" would be what we call a guilty pleasure, something outside your favorite genre that you want to hear again and again, that puts a smile on your face. "Neon Rainbow" sounds like it was recorded in black and white, and that's what makes it so great, you infuse your own colors into it.


RADIO CITY

I used to go to Andy's room to listen to the Kinks' "Everybody's In Showbiz" and the Velvet Underground's "Loaded".

"Everybody's In Showbiz" is a forgettable Kinks album, but it contains "Celluloid Heroes".

Today everybody knows "Loaded", but dropping the needle on "Sweet Jane" was a revelation, especially after that ethereal intro. The Velvets were supposed to be incomprehensible.

But one day Andy told me I had to listen to a new record, a group formed by the lead singer of the Box Tops.

The songs on "Radio City" had a certain power, and a certain intimacy. Like the Box Tops records, they seemed to be made without the audience in mind.

That's rare today. That's the first thing purveyors ask, WHAT'S THE MARKET? Put it in a slot for me, make it easy. If it's like nothing that came before, I can't sell it.

And, you guessed it, "Radio City" never sold.

But I drove cross-country with that album. The explosive guitar intro of "Back Of A Car" sounded like nothing else in my cassette box. The track was cut by someone who'd listened to a hell of a lot of English records, but there was definitely an American sensibility.

And "Way Out West" went up and down the scale with power.

"And why don't you come on back from way out west"

She didn't dump him. She moved on. But he's still here. Thinking about her...

Used to be California was a completely different state of mind from the East Coast, never mind Memphis. There was no Facebook, no e-mail, no SMS...just very expensive long distance phone calls. And when this track was cut, no one even had an answering machine. Way out west was out of mind. Yet he's still here, in the same neighborhood, going to the same clubs, listening to the same radio stations. She's living, he's dying.

Then there was "September Gurls". Just like the English cats, but better. "September Gurls" was too perfect for the radio. It was made for the garage, for headphones, just for the listener. Of which there weren't many.


THIRTEEN

Big Star broke up. They had no chance. This was before the resurgence of indie labels in the nineties, people shied away from something on Ardent.

And there was no airplay.

And the bands that were succeeding were BIGGER! From Boston to Journey, it was about playing to the last row, not the first. You wanted all the money, not some.

So I found Big Star's first album in a cut-out bin at Music Plus. No one wanted it.

But on that very first early seventies record there's a gem in the league of "Walk Away Renee". It's entitled "Thirteen".

"Won't you let me walk you home from school"

That's how it starts. It appears casual, but you had to get up the gumption, screw up your courage to ask. And carrying her books you feel like you're sitting on top of the world.

"Won't you let me meet you at the pool"

This is public. She's got to let you not only into her head, but her entire world.

"Maybe Friday I can
Get tickets for the dance
And I'll take you"

Most people listening to this record had never been on a date. But it was their utmost desire. They lived vicariously through this lyric. It got them through until they too could find romance.

"Won't you tell your dad, 'Get off my back'
Tell him what we said 'bout 'Paint It Black'"

Rock and roll was ours. Our parents didn't wear designer jeans and work out at the gym. They hated the Beatles and the Stones. But to us this music was everything.

"Rock 'n roll is here to stay
Come inside where it's okay
And I'll shake you"

Can she leave behind her Barbies, her cheerleading and enter his world? Can she risk the power of emotions?

"Won't you tell me what you're thinking of Would you be an outlaw for my love If it's so, well, let me know If it's 'no', well, I can go I won't make you"

He's not about to compromise. He wants someone to enter his world. We all want someone to enter our world. We want to show off our trophies, both physical and emotional. We want to share not only our victories, but our point of view.

And that's why Big Star is so important. The band expressed emotions, both musically and lyrically, that squared exactly with ours.

This made it tough for radio. Radio plays to a theoretical everyman. And Big Star was personal.

But that's why Big Star lives on. You may not recall who scored the winning goal at the basketball game, but you can never forget with whom you shared your first kiss.


ALEX CHILTON

We have a fantasy that our heroes live on a higher plane, live a better life than us...that they're surrounded by bucks and babes.

But watching Alex Chilton perform you were struck that his life was much more difficult than yours. He had to go from town to town, playing to appreciative, but tiny audiences, who loved him, but that love won't keep you warm at night, it won't pay your bills, it won't pay your health insurance.

My internist told me heart attacks are preventable. If you get treatment. Change your diet, take the appropriate drugs, get monitored.

But I doubt that Alex Chilton had the cash, never mind the wherewithal.

And now he's gone.

Never to be forgotten by a small coterie of fans.

Is that enough?

I don't know.

But I do know that Alex Chilton did it for the rest of us, not brave enough to take the risk, we who prayed in our basements for girlfriends as we studied for the SATs to get into a good college so we could become professionals. And we love him for it.

"Thirteen": http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pte3Jg-2Ax4

Lesley Duncan

Image via Wikipedia

The best Elton John album is "Tumbleweed Connection". Released on the heels of "Elton John" and the huge success of "Your Song", "Tumbleweed Connection" had no singles and itself was soon followed by "Friends", "11/17/70" and at the end of the year, "Madman Across The Water". Casual listeners are unaware of the record, but fans hold it dear. It contains Elton's original showstopper, "Burn Down The Mission", his take of "Country Comfort", which Rod Stewart had just done, "Son Of Your Father", which Spooky Tooth was placing its ultimately failed hopes in, and...

"Where To Now St. Peter?"

The first side ended with the laconic "My Father's Gun". Well, it started out like a tale from a hayseed with a stick of straw emanating from his mouth, but eventually it devolved into the rhythm of a paddle-wheeler on the Mississippi, blend a margarita and listen on your back porch as the sun sets, as this epic unfolds.

But the second side opened with something we hadn't heard from Elton previously, an intimate piano figure, an ethereal vocal... Listening to "Where To Now St. Peter?", you truly felt like you were floating down a river.

"I took myself a blue canoe
And I floated like a leaf
Dazzling, dancing half enchanted
In my Merlin sleep"

Floating is the operative word. "Tumbleweed Connection" arrived during Christmas vacation, when I returned to Berekely, I saw the Record Club of America box over the shoulder of the mail clerk. Also included in the box were "Gasoline Alley" and the very first Rod Stewart album, eponymous in the U.S., entitled "An Old Raincoat Won't Ever Let You Down" in the U.K. And I loved them both. But when I dropped the needle on "Where To Now St. Peter?" I resonated, like this track was made just for me, it took me away from my studies, I felt like Elton lived next door and dropped by to play a tune long after dark.

And it being the winter of marijuana, and long days on the ski slopes, I'd drop the needle on the second side of "Tumbleweed Connection" to hear "Where To Now St. Peter?" and it would slide into "Love Song". This was long before CD players, long before remote controls, long before endless repeat.

There was a percussion element that sounded like a scratch, believe me, I checked. And a song unfolded which sounded like nothing else on the album. Because it wasn't written by Elton, but one Lesley Duncan, who duetted on the track with him.

There's a story here. I don't know what it is. Aspiring stars don't cede that real estate, they don't give up those royalties. Yes, unable to move from my bed, I heard "Love Song" again and again, I broke open the gatefold cover and read the credits, I knew who was responsible.

This is the genesis of album rock. It wasn't about the radio so much as the limited music we acquired and our inability to get up off our rear ends. The needle slipped into the next groove, and over time we became fans of what followed.

And what follows "Love Song" is "Amoreena", a song with such a swagger, you want to put on your guns and amble down a dusty Texas street.

Then there was the quiet "Talking Old Soldiers" and the tour de force of "Burn Down The Mission". Side two was my favorite. I'd put the play ratio of side two to one that month of January 1971 at ten or twelve to one. It took quite a while to sink in how great "Comes Down In Time" truly was...you see it was located on the first side.

"Love Song"'s key feature is its intimacy. As if it were playing in your head as you strolled through the park on a spring morning. It's not the best song on "Tumbleweed Connection", nor is it my favorite. But I know it. Like I know a member of my family. Because, believe me, these records rode shotgun with me through my life, they were right there in my saddlebags.

Lesley Duncan just died.

http://themusicsover.wordpress.com/2010/03/12/lesley-duncan/

http://www.nme.com/news/elton-john/50225

Money, Power & Fame

Image via CrunchBase

I read a story on the airplane...

Not only am I not sure what time it is, I wouldn't even bet on what DAY it is!

I got off the airplane and my BlackBerry said 3:22 AM. How could that be? My watch said an hour earlier. Took me about twenty minutes to factor in Daylight Savings Time. Fucking BlackBerry can't figure out what time zone I'm in, but it can adjust for Daylight Savings Time?

Much earlier, as it rained outside, I had lunch on the twelfth floor of the Royal York with Roger Faxon, Chairman and CEO of EMI Music Publishing. They say these guys are clueless? Can't agree with you when it comes to Mr. Faxon. His views were practical, he had a handle on the landscape and informed me that EMI's record company and publishing company were two separate entities under the same umbrella, they were already divided, it had been a condition of Terra Firma's purchase. So when the whip comes down...

Which it inevitably will.

Then I journeyed with Jake to the airport, which was a clusterfuck nonpareil. The "Wall Street Journal" said to arrive two and a half hours in advance, ever since that terrorist incident at the end of last year travel from Canada to the States has been...well, let's just say they've gotten a lot stricter at immigration.

Not that it made any difference. My plane ended up being delayed by two and a half hours.

You see there was weather. Wind shear in T.O., our plane had to stop in Chi-town for more fuel after turning back, afraid of the waiting disaster at Pearson. As for NYC... Something was blowing really hard there too, flights were fucked up all day. Seymour told me he'd considered taking the bus. He had friends in for the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, he needed to get home.

THE BUS?

I couldn't quite envision it, Seymour Stein journeying like Joe Buck from T.O. to NYC. Only eight hours he said. THE BUS? I remember my parents making me take it from Connecticut back to college in Vermont. This was before every kid in America got a car when he turned 16, so his parents didn't have to schlep him around. I was scarred for life! Shit, if you want someone to strive for economic greatness, just make them take the bus. It's a window into a low class world that you're dying to escape. Shit, did they even HAVE buses anymore? I thought the companies followed the railroads into bankruptcy.

Last I heard, the flight to New York was canceled and rescheduled for 7 AM. Last I saw Seymour, he was heading for the gate. Maybe he should have taken the highway.

And after two hours of insight with Seymour, covering the history of the music industry from Sid Nathan to Lyor Cohen, he was replaced in his seat by Vince. Who I'd seen flying in the front of the plane on the way in.

NO, Getty Images doesn't pay for business class. Vince is EXECUTIVE PLATINUM! Shit, the CEO of Getty flies in the back of the plane. At least that's the ticket he buys. At least that's what Vince said.

And like Bonnie Raitt sang, the luck of the draw got me upgraded to one of the two empty seats in business class. Which was a godsend, having already spent the length of the journey to L.A. at the airport.

And the ride was bumpy. But I read an article in "Vanity Fair"...

Did you read Michael Lewis' "Liar's Poker"? He worked at Salomon Brothers and told the story. One I've never forgotten. Of blowing up bankers all over the world. Yup, Goldman Sachs had to unload paper, and if someone in a far-flung country, or the keeper of the pension funds lost a bundle, hell, it was just business.

And it freaked Lewis out so much he quit, married Tabitha Soren and started following baseball.

Well, not exactly. He did end up marrying the MTV News queen. His most famous book is "Moneyball". But he's still an expert on Wall Street. He's one of the few writers who can make it comprehensible. Wow, you can read this story online!

http://www.vanityfair.com/business/features/2010/04/wall-street-excerpt-201004

You're never going to read it online. Hell, you're probably never even going to read it. And that's just the point. The article is about Michael Burry, who figured out the mortgage market was gonna tank and bet against it. Burry was the leading edge.

But this story isn't about money. It's about dedication.

You see Michael Burry was passionate. He was a doctor, training at the hospital, enduring those endless hours, but still he found time to pore over prospectuses, study stocks and pontificate online. To the point when he went pro, some of the most famous traders in America found him, invested in him!

Let me make this clear. This is like making music in your basement and getting a call from Doug Morris or Timbaland or David Foster. But they don't want to mold you, they don't want to change you, they don't want you to do anything different, they just want A PIECE OF YOUR ACTION!

Yup, they found Burry on the Internet.

Isn't it interesting that warhorses in the music business will pooh-pooh the Net, saying you can't break an act there, that it comes down to radio and television, but the real money men are trolling for info online?

And how did Burry get so good at picking stocks? BY STUDYING!

Yup, doing the work.

This is Gladwell time.

We live in a country where no one wants to do the work.

Oh, I know that's an overstatement. But most people want to watch television. They want to focus on their image. Is it any wonder they're left behind?

Not that you need a formal education to make it. You can't learn the stock market in school. You've got to learn it on your own, like the music business.

And Burry's returns at his Scion fund are confoundingly large. It's all about value. He bets on fundamentally sound companies that are experiencing a bit of trouble. He hangs in there during the downward spiral in order to ride the roller coaster to the top, making beaucoup bucks along the way.

This is like investing in a band that may not look great, may need to woodshed a bit, may need to make three or four albums, but when it gets it together will be a gold mine. We can call it the Kings of Leon. We can call it artist development. We can call it ANYTHING but flavor of the moment.

That's the point. Are you willing to do it differently? Are you willing to do the work and come up with your own conclusions, your own solutions? That's Steve Jobs' way. When everybody said you've got to have open standards, he promoted closed systems. And now he's the big winner.

And Burry got so deep into it, figuring out when and what mortgage bonds were gonna tank, that he bought credit default swaps and made...enough money to buy your entire neighborhood. And the one next to you. And the one next to that.

By being brilliant. Even though so many investors said his plan was lunacy and wanted no part of it.

THIS is the American story. Not making a mix tape and partying with Paris Hilton and getting a photo in TMZ... Snooki is a diversion for the masses, the losers. Do you want to be a winner?

Winners start off in the wilderness. They do it their own way. They stick to their guns. They work incessantly and they never give up.

Whew. That just does not sound like enough people in the record business, on either side of the fence, talent or businessman.

We live in a confusing, crazy world. But one thing is constant. The winners pay their dues. And it's not solely time on the chain gang. No, there's a ton of anxiety involved. Questioning yourself, taking risks, sticking to your guns when no one believes in you.

It's every man for himself out there. Shouldn't be, but it is.

There's a safety net in Canada. In Sweden. That's the socialism you decry. But in the good old United States, the game is stacked against you. Those with power, with money, have erected walls to keep you out. And if you think kissing butt is the way to get ahead, you're delusional. It's not about how you can get signed, it's about how you can beat Universal at its own game. You've got to be smarter than Lucian Grainge. Believe me, these people exist. And they're gonna be the winners. They're the ones we're gonna be reading about in "Vanity Fair" five years from now.

MADE IN AMERICA ????

Image via Wikipedia

John Smith started the day early having set his alarm clock

(MADE IN JAPAN ) for 6 am.

While his coffeepot

(MADE IN CHINA )

was perking, he shaved with his

electric razor

(MADE IN HONG KONG )

He put on a

dress shirt

(MADE IN SRI LANKA ),

designer jeans

(MADE IN SINGAPORE )

and

tennis shoes

(MADE IN KOREA)

After cooking his breakfast in his new

electric skillet

(MADE IN INDIA )

he sat down with his

calculator

(MADE IN MEXICO )

to see how much he could spend today. After setting his

watch

(MADE IN TAIWAN )

to the radio

(MADE IN INDIA )

he got in his car

(MADE IN GERMANY )

filled it with GAS

(from Saudi Arabia )

and continued his search

for a good paying AMERICAN JOB.

At the end of yet another discouraging

and fruitless day

checking his

Computer

(made in MALAYSIA ),

John decided to relax for a while.

He put on his sandals

(MADE IN BRAZIL ),

poured himself a glass of

wine

(MADE IN FRANCE )

and turned on his

TV

(MADE IN INDONESIA ),

and then wondered why he can't

find a good paying job

in AMERICA

AND NOW HE'S HOPING HE CAN GET HELP FROM A PRESIDENT

MADE IN KENYA...AND WE WONDER WHY THE UNEMPLOYMENT RATE IS OVER 10%...IT'S ACTUALLY

CLOSER TO 20% FACTUALLY, IF YOU TALK STRAIGHT AND TAKE OUT ALL THE JARGIN OF

POLITICS, NOW THERE'S SOMETHING MADE IN AMERICA...

Canada

Image via Wikipedia

DA PLANE

I do my best to fly American. Yup, that loyalty program works. If I'm Gold, which I am, I don't have to pay for bags and...I can get upgraded...which happened just last week!

But not to Toronto. The front of the plane was booked. I had to sit in the back.

Not too bad. I'm just gonna sit on the aisle and read my magazines all the way to Canada.

Then again, having priority access, being able to board the plane early, I'm in that hellacious anxiety-filled limbo, waiting to see who is going to sit next to me.

Yup, I get on the plane right away. Need to. To put all my stuff in the overhead bin! Not that I'm traveling with that much, but I want a little legroom, I don't want to put my computer underneath the seat in front of me.

So, they're loading from back to front. And I'm just behind the wall in coach... I see obese people go by... I'm losing sympathy for Kevin Smith. Or should I blame the airlines, with impossibly skinny seats and no legroom befitting a population of Lilliputians...

And finally, they're loading my zone.

And one of those guys who looks like a leaking barrel... He's towering over me.

And he's with this woman, I'm not sure it's his wife, because he's all over her, and usually years of marriage eviscerates that behavior, and they're debating whether he should sit in the middle or on the aisle and ultimately...he tells her he's gonna sit by the window.

Yay! Victory!

Then again, his significant other is a bit wide in the hips. No, that's an understatement. She's fat too, just not as fat. But then they start nookying around, as if they're going to join the Mile High Club right there in the cabin, without a blanket, and she's leaning against him, and her avoirdupois is...infringing upon my territory.

That's how you start wars. Hell, it's bad enough that the guy in front of me put his seat back all the way as soon as we leveled out.

So, feeling encroached upon, I pushed back once or twice. I mean she's leaning her ass right against mine, like I'm a cushion or something.

And she never gives me room, but ultimately gets up to pee, and goes to first class, which is a no-no, and she comes back and the guy goes to pee too and she waits in the aisle and when they come back, they switch seats!

Well, at least his hips were narrower, but all his fat is oozing over the armrest, I feel like I'm going to be crushed by the Marshmallow Man.

I get it. Fares have to be cheap or people won't fly. You've got to pack in a bunch of people to make the numbers work.

But we're a fat as hell country trying to squeeze into a skinny world. Kind of like a middle-aged matron sporting a spare tire trying to fit into a size 2. At least the fashion designers wised-up and made a size 10 the equivalent of a size 14.

So what's the answer?

I don't consider myself a member of the fat police. But either we've got to get people healthy or we need bigger airplane seats.

Then again, I read a great analysis in "Newsweek". Stating that it's not really the politicians' fault, blame the electorate, which wants tons of services for no money.

Yup, I don't want to pay any taxes, but fix my roads, give me my entitlements...

To tell you the truth, I would have rather stood up to Toronto. Like the CEO of Ryanair suggested, however facetiously.


VINCE BANNON

You know Vince, right?

Was a performer, a promoter, a record exec and now works for Getty Images.

People steal images for their Websites. So what does Getty do? It makes them available cheap, so people will go legit. Hell, they've got a whole site where the hoi polloi can post their own photos for usage, with a bunch of instructions attached, like NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY PICTURES!

If only the labels got the message...

You want to be a distributor for everyone. And you want to make music so cheap, it doesn't pay to steal. Hell, stealing takes time.

If you think a buck a track is a good deal, you're probably not buying any...

Piracy isn't a battle to be fought with lawsuits, but pricing and ease of use.

Then again, everybody knows this except the rights holders, which is why the major labels are in decline.


MUSIC MANAGERS FORUM

They had a dinner, honoring Anne Murray's deceased manager and Sam Feldman.

Sam said some interesting things.

Like how it's the same as when he started. You put up posters and you build your act in the clubs. We're starting all over.

Sam also railed about 360 deals. Managers hate 'em. At least managers who are not so eager to commission the meager monies that come in on today's new deals. Shit, you can make more money playing the slots in Vegas.

Or, as Jake said... In a 360 deal, is the manager working for the label? The labels wants you to forgo commissions while you're building the act, but the manager's starving...

The majors believe they've won, 360s are the standard. But have they really lost. Have they got a perfect world where they rule but few want to play.


BILLY CORGAN

Yup, forgot, I read "Rolling Stone" on the plane.

Yes, I still get it. But everybody I told about this story in T.O. does not. The magazine has never meant less.

Anyway, Billy knows he's a has-been. He's using spiritual techniques to try and remain optimistic, that he can break through again.

It's fascinating. Usually stars won't speak the truth. They're delusional, being ripped off again and again yet believing it's sunny when it's raining out.

But Billy knows that people made a fortune on his music... And now, he's yesterday's news. Few want to see him. Same as it ever was. Which is why you can't be on the side of the labels, who take the lion's share of the money. Athletes have brief careers too. But they pay a lot in sports, the stars bring in the cash. Used to be you could make tons on the road, now the label wants a share of that too? Ridiculous.

Meanwhile, there's a long story on Shaun White, the preeminent snowboarder, in "Rolling Stone" too. You want to know what his passion is? Music. The hip shit, beats and such? No, Shaun loves Zeppelin, he's learning the guitar. The Top Forty nitwits are the sideshow, never forget this. The mainstream and the hip merged in the MTV era, but MTV finally removed "Music Television" from its logo, those days are THROUGH!


OLIVER

Can't remember his last name, can't remember the venue, but both made an impression upon me.

First, the club. Two rooms. Comedy in the front and music in the back. ON A WEDNESDAY NIGHT! You can feel the heartbeat in Toronto. In L.A? They're bumping asses, trying to get in TMZ.

And Oliver, who made it into the Top 22 on "Canadian Idol", don't hold that against him, did an acoustic set. Shit, he could sing well, play and you could follow along, and sing along.

This is music.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Beats are music, and that alternative dreck is music too. It's just that in this post modern world in which we live, people are doing derivations of derivations that the public can't relate to. Let's go BACK to the garden. Shit, Zeppelin, et al, were influenced by the blues. A great blues number still works. Do you really have to mess it up with speed, time changes and screechy vocals? Think about it. The best cars have the simplest exterior design. Think of the classics, stop trying to be hip.


RALPH SIMON

Worth knowing. Clive Calder's old partner. But unlike Clive, Ralph's still in the game, would be even if his old partner had cut him in on his score.

Ralph flies all over the world brokering mobile deals. He cemented the deal between U2 and BlackBerry. In the lobby, Ralph introduced me to this guy from India who paid Warner a bunch of money for mobile rights. Conversations with Ralph are deep, not just statistics.

And I told Ralph that the U.K., where he resides...is completely different from America.

In the U.K., people follow music like horse-racing, they're fans of the game. No one gives a shit about the game in the U.S.

In the U.K., radio still matters.

Radio matters less than ever in the U.S. You can be a radio star and play clubs, whereas someone without radio play can live off their tour receipts.

Point being, in the U.S. we've got utter chaos. And the rest of the world is following us. Everybody's making music, potential listeners are overwhelmed, there are no filters and there's no organization.

Filters will rule. People want to be told what to listen to. Online. Shit, they're not going to listen through endless b.s. to hear their favorite song on Pandora, that radio service has the lifespan of MySpace, it's about reading about something and hearing it INSTANTLY, clicking on it! Shit, you can even do this now, with LaLa and YouTube, never mind Spotify. But what you listen to... That's where the game gets interesting.

And recommendations won't come from computer algorithms, but people. Computers will decide what we listen to when you can have sex in an orgasmatron...


LUNCH

An A&R man told me how new bands manipulate the system. They cut a radio guy in for points, get airplay and then trumpet these spins to the label. It's all fake.

Then again, this same guy didn't say all new music was bad, just ABOVE AVERAGE!

Eureka, THAT'S IT! People send me decent stuff all the time. But one listen is enough. Or, as the publisher in attendance stated, like Steve Jobs' credo, music must be INSANELY GREAT!

Make that the filter. Before you recommend something, is it INSANELY GREAT!

That leaves just about everything out. But don't complain, face the facts. The public is so overwhelmed, they've only got TIME for insanely great.

Apple releases one or two products a year that they've been working on for years. And nobody in the building was born yesterday. You've got people who've been coding since before they grew pubic hair! That's what it takes to make something insanely great. So think about it, you just learned GarageBand, cut a song and made a deal for Tunecore to put it on iTunes. THAT DOESN'T MEAN IT'S GREAT OR THAT WE CARE!

The Long Tail means everything is available, so your friends and family can buy it, not that we, the general public, care whatsoever.

Ask yourself, in an era with infinite music at your fingertips, DO YOU WANT TO PLAY IT AGAIN?

Prior to this century, music was expensive, we had little, we played it again because we had no choice.

Those days are history, gone completely. Everything's available. How do we get people to pay attention, to spend time?

By being INSANELY great!

All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)

Cover of Manassas

"Do what you do, don't bring me down"

I was driving down the San Diego Freeway, sun in my face, the interior of my car still cold from sitting outside overnight, listening to Deep Tracks.

They played that Manassas track "Right Now"... This is the quintessential Stills, not the debut which got all the hoopla. Buy this double album.

Then "Dig A Pony". "Let It Be" will never be a throwaway for me because of "I've Got A Feeling", but I can't imagine being a deejay and selecting "Dig A Pony" to play on the radio. I thought of switching the channel. But I ended up zoning out and enjoying it.

You know how driving is. You're going along at 70, checked out, almost asleep. But somehow, your synapses fire and get you to brake, swerve, in case something untoward occurs. Ah, the human body, what a machine. Not built by Toyota, but GM. Works great when you buy it, it's just as you get older it starts falling apart. The mind says yes, but the limbs say no.

But I'm still functioning. Old age has not yet caught up with me. And I hear something... It's an intro. A couple of strums of an electric guitar, a whistle and a few drumbeats. I'm drawn in, like they're giving away a million dollars in the dashboard. But this is better than money, this is quite clearly "All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)".

We played these records so much we know every nuance. We can name them BEFORE the tune begins. But then Mike Kellie hits the drums and Peter Frampton begins to wail.

Yes, I looked it up. I've still got my original 1972 vinyl album. I bought it because I was so impressed with Peter at the Fillmore East, on Humble Pie's farewell tour (at least with Peter). I saw it in a bin in London. But didn't buy it until I got back to the U.S. that fall. And I seemed to be the only one. Oh, other people bought "Wind Of Change", but I didn't know them. There was no Facebook, no social networking. We didn't find other fans of the band until we went to the gig.

At first my favorite was the opener, "Fig Tree Bay", slow and enticing.

I didn't understand the cover of "Jumping Jack Flash". It seemed superfluous, especially since Frampton had no problem writing his own material.

But it was the second side opus that entranced me, that made me a fan.

Yes, "All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)" opens side two. The second side opener was never the single. Unless an album contained two. It was always a statement. Of where the artist was coming from. The first side opener was for the label, the manager, the second side opener was for the artist.

"All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)" is six minutes and twenty five seconds long. But it plays like 3:30. It starts with the verses, then drifts into instrumental territory and builds and builds. Kind of like "Layla", if the second half of that Clapton classic wasn't blissed out. Yes, both halves of "All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)" definitely hung together, were of a piece. As if you went to dinner with someone and found yourself drifting in a boat down a river thereafter. There might not be tangerine trees and marmalade skies, but the feeling of euphoria was the same.

And I'm listening to "All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)" in the car just now and I hear something, that I've never noticed before. The way the guitar notes have this funny way of sticking together, they're not separate, they're fluid, not drops, but an endless pour with staccato elements. The track is almost forty years old, yet brand new.

And then it starts accelerating towards the end. That ride on the river is going to end. We're going to tie up the boat. Please no, NO! But Frampton and his buddies are not done, for the final thirty seconds they flourish, like your love winking at you before she walks up the dock and evaporates.