Just heard about this on the radio… literally, just at this moment. I thought maybe I’d misunderstood. Double-checked by Googling the story.

All true.

How strange is it that I actually called him just yesterday with an idea I had, wanting his feedback. I left a voicemail on his home answering machine, not knowing.

Loss for words.

An iconic talent who by luck became my neighbor (or I, his) and by grace, became my friend.

Deeply sad. Also deeply blessed that I had a chance to know him.

Thank you Artie for your ever-bright support and wisdom. And of course, your music.

www.artietraum.com

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Ageism is what it is.  And I’m not talking about teenage-backlash or a twentysomething’s glib naïveté.  Most of it comes from within; sabotaged by our own kind.

Think about it.

It’s not that we grown-ups ever lost interest in music.  Music (as dictated by industry mafiosi, radio, media, etc.) lost interest in US.

The result being that now, our once exalted status of “fans” has turned, less desirably, to “old.”

These days, age alone apparently predicates a biological incapability to rock.  Don’t believe me?  Check out what was supposed to be the AARP’s dedicated music site.  Sadly, looks like they had to pull the plug as it’s now MIA.  Although if you browse the archives, it’s clear that even the flagship of grown-up clubs is musically clueless.

Um, AARP?  That oft-referred to “generation” defined by music?  Yeah.  Those are YOUR members.

What’s more is that occasionally when “fans” and “old” coexist, it’s all tiptoes around the proverbial elephant: we are NOT young.  Hence the term “late adopter” (whispered like Woody Allen would “cancer”).  Or  “fans of a certain age” (thank you, Wall Street Journal— whose median age, ironically is 50 — for additionally going so far as to celebrate how stupid we look when rocking in public).  Is it me or does anyone else notice a slight bit of negative connotation here?

At least there is always “aging hippie,” right?  Not exactly an insult but really, is this a compliment?

All I’m saying is I prefer “fan.”  Whether I’m in the mosh pit or sidelined sucking wind, I’m still, and most importantly, a fan.

Although today, after hearing this:

“tree-hugger” works too.

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More or less the same deal as before: a list of music/music-related whatnot worth mentioning.  Some of it new.  Some of it new-ish.  Some of it just plain new to me.  And then there’s the old and the just because….

Lay It Down, Al Green
So good to have the Reverend getting his sexy-self back on… the man is smoooooooooooth.  Duets with Anthony Hamilton (title track) and John Legend (”Stay with Me”) are faves but it’s nearly impossible to choose.  You NEED to own this.  And then invite someone sweet over for dinner.

Revolution, Eric Avery
Moby meets Baz Luhrmann.  What a ridiculously steady, catchy groove.

High Society, The Silver Seas/The Bees (U.S.)
Formerly The Bees (U.S.), currently The Silver Seas (some annoying legal-issue-forced name change).  A go-to album on par with any number of classics.  In fact, it’s hard for me to choose between this one and Starry Gazey Pie (their first)… HS just happened to be on top of the stack.  Thanks to the smart-pop mastery of main-Sea/Bee, Daniel Tashian, these are the kind of records you can leave on replay.

Weeds, Various
Quite possibly the best TV soundtrack ever.  Apparently you can buy actual compilations but they’re not complete (don’t you hate that?).  Click the “various” link above which takes you to the Showtime site for a full list of songs as balls-to-the-walls as the show.  And no, this isn’t music that necessarily stands alone.  Which is why it’s called a SOUNDTRACK, i.e., visuals required.  I can’t Netflix episodes fast enough.

Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs, Derek and the Dominos
I finally got around to reading Pattie Boyd’s autobiography which naturally, put me in the mood.  Decent read, by the way.  Not sure though that we’re any closer to knowing the secret to her clearly magnetic, inspiring power.

Submarine Symphonika, The Submarines
How excellent to hear this while trying on flip-flops in Old Navy!  Meet my friends Blake (Vermont rules!) and John, a.k.a. The Subs.  Glistening, intelli-pop that makes you feel infectiously happy.  If you’re just discovering them now, Honeysuckle Weeks is their latest, Declare a New State, their first.  Buy both.

Santogold, Santogold
Yep, still loving it.  Read this if you haven’t already.

Grandmaster Flash, Fresh Air
Terry’s interview originally aired July of 2002.  That bit where she asks him to run down a play-by-play of the Quick Mix Theory an action?  Word!  It’d stopped me dead back in 2002 so having just read Flash’s recent autobiography (phenomenal) it was time hear the Grandmaster lay it out once again.  Real-life fucking magic.  Goosebumps even.  Had to listen to it twice.

Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson, Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson
Whoa.  I loved him the moment I saw he’d posted covers of “Spirit in the Sky” and “Drive” on his MySpace page.  And let me tell you, the sound quality on both is downright awful, nearly unlistenable… but it doesn’t matter.  There’s just something about this guy, something genuinely new.  In truly the strangest of ways, he reminds me of Jeff Tweedy… it’s that kind of suck-you-in.  “Written Over” for one.  Wicked.

The Good Ones, KaiserCartel
LOVE this song.  Feels very new-wave, which I have a thing for.

Oldies, Cruisin’ 93.5
In the grand scheme of things, there is absolutely nothing special about this radio station.  However, it’s the only oldies channel we can get on our porch.  And since all self-respecting BBQ should be accompanied by The Beach Boys, etc., sometimes even bad radio —Gold Bond “Itch” Powder commercials included — is just the thing.

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My favorite band is old and ugly.

Or at least that’s the case for my favorite member. Harsh, I know. But compared to today’s annoyingly skinny, nubile poster-boys of rock, I could care less… in my minds’ eye, he’s hot, hot, HOT. Oh, and also one HELL OF A GUITAR PLAYER. Call me smitten.

In a recent Harvard commencement speech, J.K. Rowling (not surprisingly) exalted the “importance of imagination,” the distinctly unique human quality which serves as a precursor to all kick-ass achievement; in order to save the planet, compose a timeless guitar lick or write a novel, you must dream of the possibility first.

Which is why, when it comes to Andy, visually speaking, I simply invoke Rowling’s “power to imagine better” or at least to remember younger. Call me shallow. But it’s more than that.

Certainly, music isn’t about what we see… nor is it simply about what we hear. What we DREAM of while a song is playing, that’s how we engage with music — mentally, emotionally, and most importantly, as FANS.

Moreover, as Rowling suggests, not only is this our gift but our charge.

So sure, I like me some YouTube. But WATCHING the song is not the same thing as LISTENING.

Listening requires participation; it’s up to us as fans to fill in the blanks and thereby interact with the music intellectually as opposed to just visually, passively. Participation then requires us to draw upon the aforementioned distinctly unique human quality… imagination. After all, imagination magically allows us to identify with music, to give it new meaning, to transform it into timeless sound, and to feel as though the song is for us alone, i.e.: “They’re playing our song!”

All of which is a roundabout way of revisiting the Buggles; video, although at times unbelievably wonderful and informative, makes us LAZY. And similar to reading a novel as opposed to watching the DVD, somehow the sound of a song by itself is almost always superior.

As fans then — especially grown-up fans — it’s our duty not only “to imagine better” but to also DEMAND it. That is unless, like last year, we truly believe Josh Groban is as good as it can get.

I for one, am for dreaming bigger.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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As an industry insider, whining, while overrated, is mandatory. So here goes: radio sucks, labels are greedy, people have no taste, musicians are short on talent, and yes, Ticketmaster is demonic. Wah, wah, wah.

That’s the gig.

Certainly, it can be exhausting to read (I too get the Lefsetz Letter — often what seems like 10 times a week).

Part of it is because when you’re trying to perpetuate an idea, you have to hit people over the head again and again. Repetition breeds recognition, right? Advertising 101.

And not to get all freaky-deaky on you but I’ve also read The Secret. It’s true. Constantly complaining? That shit is toxic.

Admittedly, Lord knows I can hem and haw with the best of them. Today, I just don’t feel like it.

Instead, two things:

1. For Artists/CEOs

Why Bigger Goals = Less Competition. I’ve mentioned Tim Ferris’ book before. Entrepreneurial enlightenment in roughly 300 pages.

2. For Fans

What do Fat Boy Slim, David Byrne, Dizzee Rascal, and Atari have in common?

Cathartic.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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When the June issue of Real Simple arrived, I tore through it, my inner (and hopefully hipper and better dressed) Martha Stewart unfettered by the wistful yet impractical thoughts that such magazines inspire: a busy girl CAN transform her backyard into a “Summer Oasis,” master “No-Cook Summer Meals,” AND institute “10 Smart Uses for Old Plastic Bags”. Eureka.

But when I read their list of “No. 1 Summer Hits From the Past 16 Years,” it seemed that it was RS in dire need of a musical makeover.

2007: “Umbrella,” Rhianna featuring Jay-Z
2006: “Me & U,” Cassie
2005: “We Belong Together,” Mariah Carey
2004: “The Reason,” Hoobastank
2003: “Crazy in Love,” Beyoncé
2002: “Hot in Herre,” Nelly
2001: “Hanging by a Moment,” Lifehouse
2000: “Bent,” Matchbox Twenty
1999: “All Star,” Smash Mouth
1998: “Iris,”The Goo Goo Dolls
1997: “Semi-Charmed Life,” Third Eye Blind
1996: “You Learn,” Alanis Morissette
1995: “Water Runs Dry,” Boyz II Men
1994: “I Swear,” All-4-One
1993: “That’s the Way Love Goes,” Janet Jackson
1992: “Baby-Baby-Baby,” TLC

Granted, an arbitrary list, simply “based on radio airplay.” And I’d stopped listening to pop radio a long time ago. But still, I felt excluded. After all, this was a club I supposedly belonged to: women aged 25 to 54, college-educated, middle-class, employed. Am I alone among Real Simple’s 7.3 million readers as a gal who gets her “5-Minute Morning Beauty Regimen” summer groove on to something other than vapid-pop?

Even box-store radio plays Phish’ “Heavy Things” and the Damnwells’ “Golden Days.” Not the kind of songs I would expect to be on a pop radio airplay list but for a magazine which prides itself on appealing to do-it-yourself, pink toolkit-slinging “changemakers” musically, Home Depot has them beat.

So ladies. If, like me, you rock but yet you also aspire to cleanliness, godliness, and the idea of homemade ice cream (although, let’s face it, Ben & Jerry’s does a damn fine job), let me suggest a summer pop soundtrack that’s well, a little less vanilla:

Meet the new girl of summer, Santogold and her self-titled, solo debut. Punk + Ska + Rock + Hip-Hop + Pop all wrapped up in a sort of new New-Wave — complete with nonsense-word choruses and feral screams. FUN! I can’t remember the last time I wanted to actually DANCE to music. And I don’t mean head-bob.

You wanna feel 14 again? Buy the whole thing.

However, if iPod-a-few-at-a-time you must, a Santogold-inspired sampler… 16 Songs That Beat the Crap Out of Real Simple’s Lame List:

01: “L.E.S. Artistes” Santogold
02: “Words,” Missing Persons
03: “Mirror in the Bathroom” The English Beat
04: “This is Radio Clash” The Clash
05: “Say Aha” Santogold
06: “Private Idaho” B-52’s
07: “Spiderwebs” No Doubt
08: “You’ll Find a Way” Santogold
09: “Informer,” Snow
10: “Cities in Dust” Siouxsie and the Banshees
11: “Running up That Hill” Kate Bush
12: “Anne” Santogold
13: “Small Town Boy” Bronski Beat
14: “Voices Carry” ‘Til Tuesday
15: “Lights Out” Santogold
16: “Lorelei” Cocteau Twins

Pop-friggin’-tastic.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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While the whole Music 2.0 blame-game bread-and butter has largely centered around the usual gundyguts (labels, radio, etc.) — barring McGuinness’ ISP/fan-as-thief bandwagon — it would seem as though the culprits are clear: the rich guys are the bad guys. Easy enough.However, there are also the little guys. And as much as I hate to say it, by little guys/girls, I mean the artists themselves.

Don’t get me wrong, I like sinking my teeth into a good industry-bully finger-wagging just as much as the next blogger. Lord knows, I WANT the underdog to win. And badly. I’m a Red Sox fan, for Christ’s sake.

But you’ve got to admit that there is a whole LOT of really AWFUL music out there, thanks in large part to the anyone-can-do-it nowstalgia of Pro Tools, Reality TV, etc., along with what seems to be a flagrant disregard of quality in general.

Which brings me to my old college English professor who, while scoffing at subpar novels (those of empty-calorie summertime reading list ilk), would affectionately refer to them as “Fritos of the Mind;” the idea being that indulging in thoughtless art invariably leads to the creation of thoughtless art, thereby breeding a contagious, “junk-food” mediocrity. You can see how this might also apply to music… hence, this week’s Billboard stats touting songs like Bleeding Love and Viva la Vida. Muncha Bunch.

For sure, it’s by no means entirely the artists’ fault. With the music industry relentlessly spoon-feeding us sub-standard songs (so sub-standard as to now be presumed free) it’s no wonder that gobs of enthusiastic, somewhat self-indulgent, off-the-couch fledglings have been able to handily over-saturate the market.

But still.

We’re talking about a little accountability here. Because an endless Long Tail eventually devalues talent. Which is bad for everyone. Most importantly, the FANS.

So I’m not saying that we don’t all have an inalienable right to own a guitar… but don’t we also have a duty to then use it responsibly? To make mindful art?

Perhaps making GREAT music should still be the goal, no matter what the market exigencies, no matter how ridiculous your mustache…

Hot diggety.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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Indelicately put but I can’t think of a better way to say it.

I was watching Gray’s Anatomy online this weekend (oh how I do love my mindless TV) and after the seventh or eighth cut of yet another meek and moaning fade-up — painstakingly cultivated by the supposed zeitgeist of Music Supervision 2.0 — I’m telling you, I wanted to rip my eyeballs out.

Has everyone lost their edge, lost their taste for edge? Is this even ROCK?

Cue Cracker now (God bless Lowery, Hickman, et al.).

For the most part, it’s all one end of the spectrum or the other, Idol Pop or Anti-Folk. Blech.

And I know, there’s a few bands out there who are managing it. But by my tally, not nearly enough.

Quoting the fine folks at the Air Guitar World Championships: “It is time to release your inner cock of rock.” Can I get a Hell Yeah?

I’m not saying I don’t like me some mellow plucking paired with a sweet, lilting voice. But have we learned nothing from Guitar Hero, the aforementioned inner “spirit” in action? It rules for a reason.

That said, weeping weenies, time to take up a diary. Tender, angelic-voiced, piano-accompanied muses, gazing out through overlong bangs, etc., kindly… step aside. Your brand of sensitive, confessional drivel, frankly, has me bored and longing for, well, cojones.

Everyone else, kindly bring the blessed guitar solo out from underneath what seems to be an epidemically over-dense assault of sound which has all but rendered it moot; its voice indistinguishable as the maelstrom of sound it once was. Those notes are meant to be heard, dammit. Blisteringly loud, front and center.

Even Rolling Stone Magazine has got it right (for a change):

“This is what makes a great rock & roll guitar sound: an irresistible riff; a solo or jam that takes you higher every time you hear it; the final power chord that pins you to the wall and makes you hit “play” again and again. Every song here has those thrills. But these are rock’s greatest guitar moments because of what’s inside the notes: hunger, fury, despair and joy, often all at once. You hear the blues, gospel and rockabilly that came before, transformed by the need to say something new and loud, right away. Rock & roll has been the sound of independence for half a century. The guitar is still its essential, liberating voice. These are the 100 reasons why.”

Amen.

You can see RS’s 100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time all on one page, thanks to Stereogum, here.

Now all they need to do is compile a monster box set. Ballsy.

RIP Bo Diddley.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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It’s a question I hate answering. Mostly because the response, whatever it is, somehow is never as cool as my inner-high school self thinks it should be. There’s a pressure to be wildly cutting-edge. To make a statement. To out-new the next guy. To stun with the unfamiliar, thereby provoking a sort of know-it-all garboil.

Yawn.

So when someone asks me the definitive “what have you been listening to lately?” I usually flounder. A long recall-pause, some stuttering… it’s a tough one. The reason being that frankly, there’s just so MUCH music — oppressively so; an over-saturated, unintelligible wash of noise that you’ve got to constantly wade through, ever-patient… because it is NOT easy and most of the time, FAR from fun. What’s worse is that almost all of it is shit — sorry to say, no gettin’ around it. Hence the bane of the human filter… the time-honored, guilt-laden, self-torturous ritual: a willing covenant to listen to absolutely ALL of it. A bit obsessive-compulsive but that’s the job.

What’s more is, you’ve got to spend time with the music, let it dig in a you, get a hold on you. There’s a relationship there, one that requires patience. Great music isn’t always obvious.

A question I hate answering. But here it is. A list of albums and songs over the past few months that I couldn’t stop listening to, for whatever reason… humor, familiar comfort, je ne sais quoi. Some of it new. Some of the new-ish. Some of it old. Some of it just because.

Under the Waves, Pete Droge
Pete was nice enough to send me his entire back-catalogue recently (including The Thorns, who I’d somehow completely forgot about, shame, shame) and while it was great to be reminded of old faves like “Eyes on the Ceiling,” etc. I kept returning to this one from 2006. I’d played it over and over again then and it still grabs me by the knees! “Electric Green” is my ringer, but really, it’s hard to choose.

What’s So Funny ‘Bout Peace, Love and Understanding (Acoustic), Nick Lowe
Got to see him a few weeks ago in Albany. And even though I’ve heard the song a million times, this acoustic version has the kind of yearning that escaped me before. Hear it here. Buy it here.

The Odd Couple, Gnarls Barkley
I can’t believe I’m saying this… but this record is phenomenal. Outkast meets Fine Young Cannibals. Excellent for cleaning the house to. “Going On.” Uh-huh.

Tattoo You, The Rolling Stones

Altered States, Robin Danar
What a great freaking record. I can’t tell you how many times friends have come over and I’ve literally forced them to listen to Rachel Yamagata doing The Stones’ “2000 Light Years from Home.” And “Yell” is perfect for summer, which I’ve been in the mood for since January.

An Spéirbhéan, Gael Sli
Instrumental. Honestly, not a fan of the other songs but this one, otherworldly — in a Lord of the Rings kind of way.

Momofuku, Elvis Costello
Fantastic album. All those idiot critics…. It’s fun. It rocks. It sounds like the Costello we know and love. What more do you want?

Pretzel Logic, Steely Dan

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, Various
Currently, my favorite record of the year, no kidding. And not just because it’s funny. The songs are actually great. Parodies, of course… but still. Mike Andrews (a.k.a. Elgin Park, Greyboy Allstars) is a total genius. Not to mention Dan Bern and Mike Viola (The Candy Butchers). Everything these guys touch is gold. “Darling” really gets me. “Let’s Duet” makes me pee my pants. And even though it cost me a solid $20 (I did wince) it was worth every cent.

Are You Gonna Go My Way, Lenny Kravitz
Lenny gets a bad rap. His new stuff, not interested. But the older stuff, hell yes. I like my rock sexy.

The Alchemist Manifesto, Ocote Soul Sounds and Adrian Quesada
Groovy, spacey, spicy. Good for after the barbecue when you’re still sitting on the porch in the twilight.

Blackbird, One Day International
I’ve had the precursor to this record for a while (a demo of sorts) and Blackbird is most of the same songs… superb. Coldplay (as in back to Parachutes) meets Thom Yorke plus a cello. “Little Death” is a damned good one.

Soap and Water, Chuck Prophet
Sexy, sexy, sexy. Chuck always comes through. Especially digging “Would You Love Me?” and “Small-Town Girl.”

Playback, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
I’ve been wanting this box set for a long time and simply forgot to buy it. There is no bad song. Checkout Disc 6, “You Come through” with Lenny Kravitz. Oh mama.

Yael Naim & David Donatien, Yael Naim & David Donatien
I realize I’m a bit johnny-come-lately to this but really, the whole pared-down, delicate singer-songwriter thing pretty much nauseates me at this point… however I loved this. “Paris,” “Too Long,” “New Soul,” “Far Far,” and of course “Toxic.”

Nothings Wrong, Andy Zipf
See him live.

You asked.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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Stop with the single already. Make me an ALBUM. Not 11 shit-songs and an earworm. I want art. I want flow. I want craft. And I WANT to pay for it.

Singles are for casual listeners… a watered-down, comehither billboard, intent on not only getting your attention but manipulating it.

Paraphrasing/quoting Oliver Sacks:

Science dictates that music (a.k.a. singles) specifically designed to hook you in — an “endless repetition” regardless of “the fact that the music in question may be irrelevant or trivial, not to one’s taste, or even hateful — suggests a coercive process,” where music “enter[s] and subvert[s] a part of the brain, forcing it to fire repetitively and autonomously (as may happen with a tic or a seizure).”

Is this what we now require of every song, a calculated brainwash of sound, a “defenseless engraving of music on the brain” (Sacks again) that we literally can’t get out of our minds?

Creepy. And the sure way to mass-produced homogeny.

Oh wait. Kind of like the way radio is now?

Lord knows the last thing I want to hear is a string of singles. Even of my favorite songs. Talk about mentally exhausting.

Think of it like this. The single is a teaser, an aperitif, a taste… a free sample. The ALBUM is the main event, the SUBSTANCE. And albums are for FANS — INVESTORS in music, who stick with you long after the single has wormed its way out. Can you imagine Tattoo You without “Slave?” “Start Me Up” may have gotten you to the table but “Little T & A,” “Black Limousine,” etc. that’s the meat. Yum.

And that’s the model I’m talking about. The model of making ART and selling it because it has VALUE. That’s the model that works because it works for FANS.

Fans GET the album… they embrace the collective idea that music is dynamic; its impact relies on time, place, emotion, mood, memory, presentation, etc., i.e. CONTEXT.

Just think about how many times when you first heard a song, you didn’t like it… but another time, you did. Not exactly accidental. Contextual. And not the kind of thing that happens if you simply play the same single over and over again on YouTube.

But if you put an entire album on replay… you spend time with the songs, you give them room to breathe, you grow to love them. They take on MEANING.

Music surrounded by music that informs it has MORE meaning… the kind of meaning that only a group of songs, purposely arranged and comprising a greater product can create: an all-encompassing audio art-form that is, by its very essence, the bare-bones magnificence of music: a wondrous, sonically shared experience — exactly the kind of thing that fans are willing to pay for.

Because in a world where singles are incessantly everywhere and also free (thereby, inherently valueless) true, artful albums are RARE (thereby, somewhat priceless). And I don’t know about you but I don’t want what everyone else has for free… kind of the same way I feel about extra large, logo-emblazoned T-shirts. Keep ‘em.

But a compendium of great, interesting songs… dead-ringer singles, sleeper hits, introspective soundscapes, covers turned inside-out, indulgent guitar solos (please, bring those back)… that’s what I want. I want to actually hold it in my hand, open up the liner notes and rub my nose in them, inhaling that new-ink-on-paper-smell.

Limited copies. Frame-worthy artwork.

Raise the standard.

Charge me double the price.

© Outlandos Music^TM 2008

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