MORE BLOGS: Blurt | Stuck in VT | Mistress Maeve
It seems Parmaga's Bryan Parmelee ain't merely one hell of an indie rock songwriter. He also does a pretty good Foghorn Leghorn, as seen in this recent short depicting a pair of local citizens concerned over the recent Lockheed Martin proposal, and Parmelee as a Lockheed snake oil salesman. Enjoy …
Earlier this year, I wrote a mildly tongue-in-cheek open letter to Vermont's senior Senator, Patrick Leahy, urging him to "hotline" the Local Community Radio Act, a bill he originally co-sponsored with Sen. Maria Cantwell (D-WA) and Sen John McCain (R-AZ), among others. To refresh your memory, the bill would ease adjacency restrictions on the FM dial and allow a greater number of low power FM stations (think 105.9 FM WOMM-LP the Radiator) to operate. Theoretically, this means more variety and localism on an increasingly bland, homogenized spectrum, more community involvement in what is broadcast on our public airwaves (they're all public, BTW) and, well, hunky dory, warm fuzzy feelings all around.
A few days after that piece ran, Senator Leahy actually called me back. After I got over the initial shock of speaking to one of the most powerful men in the country, we settled into a legitimate discussion on the merits of the LCRA legislation, the hurdles the bill has faced along the way and why it had yet to pass — it was proposed in 2005. Asked for his take on the bill's fate at the end of our conversation, Leahy said, in no uncertain terms, "It will pass. Soon."
It turns out he was right. Saturday, the bill finally passed the Senate, and unanimously at that. It easily passed the House of Representatives earlier this year.
In press release sent from his office yesterday, Leahy says, “By using low power stations, community groups can access underutilized spectrum and provide content tailored to smaller communities.” He continues, saying, “This legislation is important because LPFM stations provide opportunities for local organizations to serve local communities. Vermont has LPFM stations serving local communities in Vermont from Hyde Park to Brattleboro to Warren. There is room for more.”
Pending the signature of President Obama, local airwaves could indeed see more LPFMs in communities all over the state. Christmas miracle?
Hey, folks.
Welcome to my ongoing scattershot coverage of the CMJ Music Marathon, live from balmy NYC.
I just got back from a mildly interesting panel discussion, the Curmudgeons of Rock, featuring some pretty serious names in music journalism, including Rob Harvilla of the Village Voice, Sean Fennessey of eMusic, freelancer Maura Johnston, SPIN magazine music editor Charles Aaron and the newly minted music critic at New York magazine, Nitsuh Abebe. The hour-long discussion touched on a variety of issues of particular interest to yours truly, including the changing face of music journalism in the Internet age, the relevance of "authoritative" opinions when anyone with a keyboard and a web connection can blog their thoughts, or download an album in the time takes to read a review, and whether there is any value in publishing negative criticism. I especially enjoyed that last one.
But the elephant in the room was the general decline of print media and how the music journalism industry as whole has been forced to adapt. Fennessey had some particularly poignant remarks, speaking as both a former print journalist and currently as one of the driving forces behind eMusic. His stance was essentially that sites such as his, and several others around the web serve more as curators of taste rather than arbiters of cool. Unlike Harvilla and Aaron — or myself, for that matter — writers for his site have the luxury of writing solely about music that interests them, that they have a passion for. Since they promote music — in an effort to sell it, of course — true criticism never enters into the equation. They simply write about stuff they like, and hope some other folks will too.
The flip side, and perhaps the most spirited debate of the day, centered on whether negative criticism has a place in modern music journalism. Aaron was particularly candid, all but admitting to formerly feeling at least somewhat beholden to record labels advertising in his mag. But now that major label influence has waned, he feels more emboldened to tell it like it is … to a point. He added that negative reviews rarely benefit anyone, whether it be the artist (obviously), the publication, the writer or, more importantly, said artist's fans, who often respond passionately when they feel their favorite band has been unduly skewered. He also added that a negative review can often sever relationships with artists whom you may wish to cover in the future. I can attest to the validity of all of those points. But my take is this: so what?
If I may, I'd like to borrow a line from the late, great Lester Bangs:
"My responsibility as I see it as a critic is not to help a lot of new bands sell their records. It's to help people who are buying the records to keep from making a purchase that they're going to get home and hate my guts and the band's too because it's a piece of shit."
Amen. Harvilla echoed a similar sentiment, offering that trust is a key component between a writer and his or her readership. And part of building that trust means offerring a negative opinion when it's warranted. It doesn't have to be mean-spirited or snarky — though those are often the most fun to read … and write. Ahem. But it does have to be honest. To illustrate, Harvilla pointed to the "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed" style review — read my review of the Death reunion show for an example.
Maybe I'm old fashioned, or just naive, but I believe professional music criticism is still a valid and important part of how we collectively experience music. I'm biased, of course, since I am one of a lucky — and shrinking — few who actually make a living doing this. And as Fennessey put it, it's hard to take any of it too seriously because, "We're not doing God's work. We're writing about rock and hip-hop records." Yup. But there is still a place for informed, well-reasoned discussions about music amid the shrieking blogosphere … at least I hope.
*******
A couple more notes on last night's rambling.
1. Das Racist was … disappointing. Coulda just been the poor sound, or the general difficulty of translating hip-hop to a live setting, or maybe they just haven't made the developmental adjustment from studio darlings to live act, but I left unimpressed. With a cadre of hype men and various hangers-on crowding the stage, dudes just seemed a little too comfortable letting shenanigans drive the show, instead of focusing on performing. It's too bad, since they write such clever, funny songs but you'd never know it based on last night's show.
2. The surprise of the night was … well, still a surprise, but I'm working on that. The band was an incredible art folk outfit from North Carolina. But they were a late addition, not listed in the CMJ guide and never actually told the crowd who they were. But I'll figure who they were and pass that info along, hopefully soon.
3. On the docket for tonight: a Press Mixer — not my bag, but the food and booze is free, which is key in this town. Surfer Blood, Good Old War and … well, who knows? But that's the whole point, right?
If you didn't grow up in the early 1990s, today's date may not have much significance for you. However, if you're old enough to remember "Beverly Hills 90210" — the original, not the atrocity currently airing — then September 2, 2010 is a glorious day indeed: 9/02/10. So with that in mind, I give you the one, the only, David Silver …
There's been rampant — and silly — speculation around town regarding the strange and sudden disappearance of one Neko Case from the New Pornographers' show this past Friday at Higher Ground. Did she quit the band? Did she pass out in a drug crazed stupor? Did one of her stalkers show up? (Don't look at me, I was at Nectar's.)
I wrote briefly on this in tomorrow's column. But other than noting that she was a no-show, there wasn't much left to report. The folks at Higher Ground were as baffled as the rest of us. Further inquiries to the club and the reps for both the New Pornographers and Case were not returned. That is, until just after the column went to the press. Of course. [That sound you hear is me shaking my fists skyward, cursing the rock and roll gods.]
HG's Alex Crothers writes that Case was — Are you ready? Can you feel the tension? Deep breaths, deeeep breaths — stricken with food poisoning. Yuck.
Here's hoping Ms. Case is feeling better.
A happy Thursday to you, Solid State! Feeling a little scattered today, so bear with me …
Higher Ground delighted aging hipsters (like me) around the region earlier this week by announcing that Broken Social Scene will play the Ballroom on Wednesday September 22. Tickets go on sale Friday at 11 a.m. And if it doesn't sell out by, say 11:03 a.m., I will never give Alex Crothers and Co. a hard about time about booking indie bands ever again.
-------
Speaking of Higher Ground: Li'l Kim. Wednesday, June 02. Really.
-------
I'll probably mention this in my column next week, but it never hurts to give new material a dry run, right? Anyway, earlier this week, I was minding my own business, just compiling some club listings for next week's issue when I stumbled across this listing for Thursday, June 20 Langdon Street Café website.
J.P. Harris and The Tough Choices play Country-Goddamned-Music. Period. Sick and tired of the modern Pop-Country filth broadcast shamelessly and persistently across our beautiful countrysides, The Tough Choices set out to right the wrongs done to a music so classically and quintessentially American. As we speak, Hank Williams, Buck Owens, Carl Smith, and countless other champions of Honky Tonk are rolling in their graves, groaning with disgust over the watered-down contemporary excuse that Nashville presents us for Country Music. Save a few Randy Travis gems and Alan Jackson hits, this flim-flam is pathetic, at best.
And then, I noticed this curious addition to the band's press blurb …
FREE BEER IF YOUR NAME IS DAN BOLLES.
JP, you had me "country-goddamned music."
(PS- Not that I'm above boozy bribery, ahem, but I'll actually be on my way to Philadelphia that night. Sorry, boys. Another time, perhaps?)
-------
In the last week or so, I've had three or four separate people — none of whom are not involved with the band or promoting the show, mind you — email about how much they think I would personally like The Barr Brothers. The Slip-offshoot will be at Parima this Saturday. I'm only just digging in this morning, but I'll say this, any band that effectively uses a harp and hammer dulcimer is aces in my book. Here's a clip:
-------
As it turns out, Thom Yorke is fan of Vermont's own Bill McKibben and his website 350.org. Neat-o.
-------
Apparently, my column this week stirred up some grumblings in the local comedy community. Take it away, Wacky Pete …
-------
And last but not least, this week's paper contained an enormous production goof. Long story short, my lead music feature about local hardcore punk band Unrestrained and their upcoming bicycle tour of New England — yes, bicycles — was regrettably omitted from the print edition. Or, at least the first 700-ish words were. Do the band a solid and check out the full story here. And if you really want to help me make it up to them, you could attend their farewell show tonight at 242 Main.
Word to the wise, if you ever check out a show at the new House of Blues (formerly Avalon) on Lansdowne Street in Boston, don't buy tickets for the Mezzanine. The mammoth nightclub's second floor balcony wraps around the sides and rear of room but has seriously limited sight lines. Unless you are among the first, say, fifty or so people there lucky enough to get a spot along the railing, there is literally no vantage point to actually, y'know, see the show.
So it was that I experienced Spoon at HOB this past Saturday, alternately trying to hop above the four and five deep rows of almost comically tall people in front of me for a glimpse of the stage, and craning my neck at a projection screen simulcasting the concert that was just delayed enough to be annoying. It was sort of like watching a Red Sox home game on TV at the Cask and Flagon, the famed Lansdowne Street bar that is literally twenty feet from Fenway Park — if you've never done this, imagine hearing a David Ortiz home run thirty seconds before you see it. I'm exagerrating a bit. But you get the idea. Thank God for the surprisingly reasonable Narragansett tall boys. And the sound. Good lord, the sound.
I honestly can't remember the last time I saw, er, heard a show with sound so crystalline and balanced. I've long thought that Spoon's Jim Eno (drums) and Rob Pope (bass) form rock and roll's coolest rhythm section. But I have a profound new appreciation for their work having heard them like that. It was electrifying. The same goes for keyboardist/percussionist Ed Harvey. As for lead singer Britt Daniel? Well, I still want to be him when I grow up. All in all, it was the best show I never saw.
*******
Speaking of Britt Daniel, did you know that he used to be this guy?
And speaking of assumed names, Stephen King's kid might just be, well, the next Stephen King. Or would that be the next Richard Bachman?
Are you a local musician wondering how Obamacare will affect you? Our old friend Casey Rae-Hunter at the Future of Music Coalition is here to help.
Your pledge dollars at work! NPR currently has Dr. Dog's new album, Shame, Shame — the band's first for Anti- — available for your perusal here. The record hits shelves, real and electronic, on April 6. And here's an interview I did with bassist Toby Leaman about the record in January.
Finally! The guy responsible for Battlefield Earth apologizes.
The old gray lady of rock ’n’ roll rags, Rolling Stone, unveils its list of "Best New Bands of 2010" this Thursday. Chief among them are none other than our own Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, who got their start in, um, 2002. Nice that someone is finally paying attention to them. (BTW, it's just a coincidence that Thursday is April Fools Day, right?) Anyway, here's a new video for "Tiny Songs," from their forthcoming self-titled album, which is scheduled for release on June 6.
Last but not least, the Montreal Jazz Fest has just announced another slew of concerts for this year's edition. They have also apparently adjusted the scope of the term "jazz" to include the likes of Andrew Bird, Lou Reed, Lionel Ritchie and Steve Miller. On a related note, the Burlington Discover Jazz Fest now has a Twitter feed where they are soliciting suggestions for this year's lineup. I mean seriously, who wouldn't want to see Lionel Ritchie at the Flynn?
Happy Obama Day, Solid State!
As I'm sure many of you do, I know several people who were at the festivities in DC today, including a few who are attending Inaugural Balls this evening. While I normally avoid large crowds like the plague, I have to admit, I'm a little jealous. Given the electricity just in the tiny conference room in which I watched the speech with a handful of 7D staff — via an intermittent web feed, no less — I can only imagine the feeling of being there in person. Even the most ardent naysayers would have to admit that this was a pretty remarkable day.
Anyway, a few quick, random thoughts on the Inauguration:
Aretha: Still the best pipes in soul. And what a hat!
Any combo featuring Yo Yo Ma and Itzhak Perlman is guaranteed to impress. But am I the only one who would have preferred Danny Elfman to John Williams? That's change we can believe in.
Ironic that the most eloquent President since Kennedy would fumble the swearing in.
(Note: Upon further review, totally not Obama's fault. The Chief Justice dropped that ball.)
"As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals."
If I'm President, er, ex-President Bush I'm squirming like a whore in church at that line. If only a camera had cut to his reaction.
Do you even remember the last time the man in control of the nation's nukes could actually pronounce the word "nuclear?"
". . . know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy."
Proof that the most profound sentiments are almost always the simplest.
And finally, goodbye, Dubya. Can you believe we put up with eight years of this guy?
Email Newsletters: 
Recent Comments