I’ve never understood why Frank Sinatra was a star. Compared to many of his contemporaries, he couldn’t sing very well, starred in a lot of bad movies and was a bona fide jerk to many of those around him. He also recorded the utterly horrible “New York, New York,” another tune I need to add to the list of songs I never want to hear again. And there was also that horrible wig he wore in later years, which looked completely daft.

After someone at the United States Post Office got the bright idea to raise the price of a first-class stamp to $.42 on May 12, they also decided to pay homage to Sinatra by giving Ol’ Blue Eyes his own stamp.

On Tuesday, there’s going to be a ceremony in Midtown honoring the late singer. Sinatra’s children, Nancy and Frank Sinatra Jr., will be on hand for the dedication, as will bigwigs from the USPS and Rep. José E. Serrano (D-NY), a lifelong Sinatra fan who learned to speak English from listening to his father's Sinatra records. Another event will be held in Las Vegas featuring Tina Sinatra and stamp artist Kazuhiko Sano.

The ceremony you’ll really want to avoid will be at 3pm at Pier A Park at 1st Street and Frank Sinatra Drive near the Frank Sinatra Post Office in Hoboken. A 10-ft. image of the stamp will be unveiled with the New York City skyline in the background. It's enough to make anyone go postal.

Editors Note: Jens Carstensen is a LWMB contributor and the new bassist for Lower East Side rock band The Giraffes.

Not long ago, a Long Island singer named Joseph Linello wrote The Giraffes with an interesting opportunity. In his words:

Yo, you guys are pretty good!

I've been looking for bands that should open for me. I have major label interest, and so I'll probably start booking some really huge shows. Not sure if you guys know what it's like to have major label interest, but it's kind of cool, because you know you're going to be huge, but you just have to sort of wait.

So anyway, I just wanted to say that maybe you guys would want to open for me in New York. Also, I'm looking for a backing band. Maybe one of you guys would want to join a band that would back me. Major label interest means MAJOR MONEY!

Check out my tunes. I had to play the guitar myself on the demos. I'd rather not play guitar, even though I've been playing for 15 years and one the 1st place award in Guitar Camp when I was 13, 14, and 19 years old. I'd rather concentrate on just the singing part.

Well, let me know if you want to open for me or if anyone in the band wants to maybe join mine. I've been trying to get in touch with the bass player from Creed because he'd be PERFECT for my band. Then again, a lot of people say I sound like Scott Stapp, so no surpise there.

OK, later,
Joseph

* * * * * *

Before i could reply in my usual droll, diplomatic fashion, our guitarist Damien took it upon himself, in with his usual "NSFW" enthusiasm. Said D:

Jesus fucking H Christ are fucking for real? Man, look here. I'm gonna do you a favor and tell ya, as a fellow human who breathes the same air-

YOU FUCKIN' SUCK
YOU SOUND LIKED AN ARMY OF RETARDED HYENA'S [sic] BEING GANG RAPED WITH BARBED WIRE, ON LUDES

Someone has to tell you, straight.
I don't care how much Long Island 16 year old pussy you get, your the WORST.
Stick to Modeling banana hammocks or selling watches in AIMS catalogs
Music is not your thing...
But you know what, ALLAH be praised, you'll probably get a record contract, cause theirs plenty of pathetic nitwits out in this world that'll "Totally identify with your PAIN" and want you to blow loads on to their food before they eat it.
So good luck with that,
go die,
Damien

PS- If you pay me a 1,000 dollars a show I'll be glad to play your horrible music. Dignity always has a price, as you must already know...

* * * * * *

Obviously, this did not go unnoticed by Joey L. Here was his reply:

"Dude,

Not cool. I feel like you're insulting me. I don't think you understand how much work it's taken me to get the major label interest that I have.

First of all, I fucking spend like 5 hours at the beach a week, writing my poetry (sorry, you guys might call it "lyrics," but I call it my POETRY BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT IT IS). I don't write it at the bar, or on the subway or wherever you really cool MANHATTAN guys write it. I only write it at the beach, because that's the only place i can really connect with my pain.

Second of all, I wax my chest every week and spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on the right outfit so people know how serious I am when they watch me perform. It's not just music (or did you not know that) - it's also about appearance. You think I do that because this is a hobby? NO, IT'S NOT A HOBBY! After all, it was a hobby then how is that I have MAJOR LABEL INTEREST?!

Oh, and lastly, answer me this: If music isn't my thing, then HOW COME I HAVE MAJOR LABEL INTEREST?!

PEACE!"
Joey L

Nothing more rock and roll than a good ol' flame war. In fact, Joe even has a response song on his myspace profile named "Damien." And it RIFFS!

 

Tonight there is going to be a protest outside the new John Varvatos store on Bowery, which, not coincidently, used to be CBGB. According to Rebecca Moore, the protest’s organizer, not only does John Varvatos represent the gentrification that plagues the Lower East Side, but has co-opted the artistic community to sell high-priced luxury goods; she’s angry that John Varvatos is using the space as a marketing tool. Am I the only one who finds this hilariously ironic?

Sure, CBGB was important—essential even—in the development of American punk rock and new wave, but since 1990, it had been fueled solely by false nostalgia and reduced to the sum of its merch. It became a dive for tourists to see horrible teenaged punk bands and buy a t-shirt so their friends back home can know how “rock’n’roll” they are. I mean, before he died, Hilly Kristal was planning to rebuild the club, urinals and all, in Las Vegas! That has to be one of the least punk rock things ever.

If anything, John Varvatos is carrying on Kristal’s legacy and the precedent he set down with CBGB. Only, Varvatos is classing things up a bit. Tonight the store will host a sold out show featuring a reunited D Generation, and all the proceeds are going to VH1’s Save The Music Fund. It sucks, I guess, that East Village crust punks have one less place to hangout (those stairs outside of Search & Destroy on St. Marks are going to be a lot more crowded this summer), but anyone who laments the transformation of CBGB into a retail space should take a minute to recall what the club was really like. I’m sure there’s still a store or five on Bleecker that sell CBGB t-shirts anyway.

If it's happened to you, you know what I'm talking about. If it hasn't, just wait. Someone's gonna send you a link to the Meg White sex tape, and you'll get all excited and click it and wait with baited breath, and then all of a sudden, Rick Astley is bouncing around your computer screen, singing his beloved hit, "Never Gonna Give You Up", and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. It's happened to me twice (I am not so smart), and somehow, the second time, I managed to have a quickie mouse finger and kill the sonofabitch.

So pretend you're Rick Astley in this situation. How can it possibly feel to be the focus of one of the most heinous internet annoyances after that asinine dancing baby? Rick sez: "I think it's just one of those odd things where something gets picked up and people run with it. But that's what's brilliant about the Internet." While other icons of the Material Decade reunite right and left, Rick's gonna lay low and stay out of the Ray-Bans. "Listen, I just think it's bizarre and funny. My main consideration is that my daughter doesn't get embarrassed about it."

I find this to be a huge relief. It is entirely possible that Mr. Astley could have also had these reactions:

1. "I'M A HUGE STAR!!! GO AWAY!!! I'LL CALL THE COPS! TINA TURNER'S GONNA RIP YOUR HEAD OFF ANY SECOND! MOMMMM!!!"

2. "Journalists get the Chokey. See you in hell."

3. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THE INTERNET!?"

Gosh, it's kind of boring when 80s pop stars grow up to be all sensible and shit. I feel like Rickrolling someone just out of spite.

Yesterday’s news of the New York Philharmonic’s historic trip to North Korea was a farce. The concert didn’t help the country’s suffering people who continue to face starvation and human rights abuses at the hands of their government. All this media circus did was boost leader Kim Jong-Il's ego, and that's a damn shame. Aside from the performance’s broadcast on state run television, it was just another day of oppression for the country’s miserable citizens.

While the media was quick to reference how ping-pong warmed relations between the US and China in the Seventies, odds are good that the North Korean government will undoubtedly continue to be as cagey as ever. And while the musicians (rightfully) claimed that they play instruments and leave matters of international relations to politicians, Mr. Kim has once again thumbed his nose at the world and continues not to live up to his promise to disarm his nuclear program.

Though the Philharmonic’s trip received a lot of media attention (no doubt because over 50 journalists were flown into the typically closed-off nation for the event), a recent press report by a South Korean newspaper that documented how humanitarian aid and food supplied by South Korea has been shanghaied by the North’s elite seemed mysteriously to have slipped through the cracks. So much for fair and balanced reporting.

To add insult to injury, reports surfaced today that North Korea has invited Eric Clapton to perform. According to an AP Report, Clapton has agreed in principle to perform a 2009 gig. I say we call in Team America and say good riddance to this tyrant.

The other night I watched Larry King interview Bill Maher. I can’t take Larry too seriously; it’s not because of those silly suspenders he wears or his lizard-like appearance—it’s because he admittedly never prepares for an interview and it usually shows. At one point during their rather mundane chat (which was full of King tossing softball questions to Maher), King asked the comedian how he would rate George W. Bush’s presidency. Maher asked King how many presidents we’ve had, and King correctly responded “43.” Maher smirked and said, “Then I’d rate George Bush number 45.”

As comedians, pundits and clueless CNN hosts count down the 348 days left in Mr. Bush’s administration, it seems like everyone is joining Maher in getting their last licks in on this lame duck, including Shout! Factory Records. Arriving on the success of 2004’s Bushspeak: The Curious Wit & Wisdom Of George W. Bush comes Bushspeak Volume 2: Fore More Years, a compilation featuring some of Dubya’s best/worst distortions of the English language. A sample for your reading pleasure:

“Nobody’s accused me of being Shakespeare . . . I just hope you can understand what I’m saying.” - Cleveland, Ohio – July 10, 2007

“You work three jobs? Uniquely American, isn’t it? I mean, that is fantastic that you’re doing that. Get any sleep?” - Omaha, Nebraska – February 4, 2005

The album’s release date? April 1, of course.

In his latest New Yorker piece, pop music critic and white-indie-rock hating Sasha Frere-Jones takes on MySpace, and the horror that is young, cute 20-something women making annoying music.

While the article alerts us to how MySpace tragically forces artists into the limelight before "they've played a live show, mastered the art of songwriting, or found their voice", it also serves the more prosaic purpose of hating on Kate Nash. After listening to Nash's latest, Made of Bricks, Sasha feels sorry "not for Nash's anonymous boyfriends..but for her listeners." He goes on to call her songs "infinitely annoying", "grating", and the kind of stuff "that might have earned Nash an A in third grade." Burn!

Despite his seeming disdain, Frere-Jones is no stranger to Web 2.0: his former band Ui has a very nice MySpace page, and he routinely updates not one, but two blogs. It's okay for an intelligent, 40 year-old New Yorker critic to go online every day, just not young women who use the Internet to complain about their weight and stuff, or to post their trite little Garage Band songs.

 

But never fear, Sasha is no misogynist. He makes sure to note that Kate Nash, Lily Allen, Amy MacDonald and other 20-something female artists simply hold no candle to PJ Harvey, Tori Amos, Liz Phair and Courtney Love, women he adores. This new crop of girls is just "less political, less aggressive, and so far, less inspired" than their older contemporaries. Ah, if only people born in the 60s could keep making music and writing about it, indefinitely.

Teenage girls of the world, take note! The lyrics of Courtney Love are deep and significant, not like Kate Nash's sad little warblings about her boyfriend throwing up on her trainers. Just take this 1994 example from Hole's Live Through This:

I'm stupid
I'm smarting
I'm stupid
I'm smarting
I want my baby, where is the baby
I want my baby
Who took my baby

The pathos! Nevermind naive and earnest artists like Amy Winehouse, bring back the lipstick-smeared, baby-dolled girl-rock of yore. And for the teeny-bopper set, getting back to the 90s has never been easier. PJ Harvey, Tori Amos, Liz Phair and Courtney are all conveniently available for download on a MySpace page near you.

Thanks to my sister for the pic of Kate Nash, above.

Aside from the recent Led Zeppelin one-off, I’m a little tired of bands reuniting. To cop a line from The Who, why don’t they all just f-f-fade away? It wasn’t too long ago when a band would rise from obscurity, take the world by storm, make a zillion bucks, party like there was no tomorrow, fight, break up, overdose, blow all of their cash, go into rehab, lose their audience, appear on Behind The Music, and then inspire a new legion of bands to follow in their footsteps. But nowadays rock stars are living well past the age of 27. And with royalties drying up on albums that were released two decades ago, aging rockers are willing to bury the hatchet with their former band mates in order to make a few mortgage payments and catch up on their child support and alimony.

Why am I so pissed off about this? Well, news broke late yesterday that Marilyn Manson and Twiggy Ramirez have reunited for the U.S. portion of Manson’s Rape of the World Tour (which, incidentally, hits NYC’s Hammerstein Ballroom on Jan. 29 and 30). What, you didn’t already have a ticket?

“The two who co-wrote Antichrist Superstar, Mechanical Animals, and Holywood will be sharing the stage once again,” boasted the press release. “Expectations for the upcoming tour are best described by quoting one of Manson’s most infamous lyrics, ‘Everyone will suffer now.’ Looks like the shit is gonna hit the FANS.” I’m not sure about you, but I just vomited a little in my mouth. A full set of tour dates are under the cut.

Manson On The Road:

1/19	Hard Rock	Orlando, Florida
1/20	The Fillmore	Miami, Florida
1/22	The Tabernacle	Atlanta, Georgia
1/24	Rams Head	Baltimore, Maryland
1/26	The Orpheum	Boston, Massachusetts
1/27	Electric Factory Ballroom	Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
1/29	Hammerstein Ballroom	New York, New York
1/30	Hammerstein Ballroom	New York, New York
2/1	House of Blues	Cleveland, Ohio
2/2	LC Pavilion	Columbus, Ohio
2/4	State Theatre	Detroit, Michigan
2/5	Aragon	Chicago, Illinois
2/7	Eagles Ballroom	Milwaukee, Wisconsin
2/8	Myth	Minneapolis, Minnesota
2/10	Pageant	St. Louis, Missouri
2/11	Uptown Theater	Kansas City, Missouri
2/13	The Fillmore	Denver, Colorado
2/14	Saltair	Salt Lake City, Utah
2/16	Orpheum Theatre	Vancouver, British Columbia
2/18	Paramount Theatre	Seattle, Washington
2/20	Warfield	San Francisco, California
2/22	The Wiltern	Los Angeles, California
2/23	The Wiltern	Los Angeles, California
2/25	House of Blues	San Diego, California

Mike's recent post covering both Canada's Most Serene Republic and a certain rockin' grad-school chess playing friend of his got my gimmick-loving mind to thinking ... Indie Rock Chess! I'm kind of brainstorming out loud here. Feel free to debate these and suggest alternates; we're still in the "beta-testing" stage of this one. The sides could be US vs. Canada, and would consist of the following pieces ...

U-S-A! U-S-A! King/Queen: Mates of State (Kori Gardner/Jason Hammel) Bishops: Conor Oberst, Sam Beame Knights: Dave Grohl, Jack White Rooks: Pitchforks Pawns: 8 PBR cans

OH, CANADA King + Queen: Arcade Fire (Win Butler/Régine Chassagne) Bishops: Tegan and Sara Knights: Death From Above 1979 Rooks: The MuchMusic logo Pawns: 8 Broken Social Scene members

You can tell I'm not that fond of bishops... Still, this is some can't-miss shit. Extra points to whoever can come up with a Swedish team.

Move over, Lindsay Lohan. Take a powder, Tommy Lee. Don’t even think about getting on the one-and-twos ever again, Rosanna Arquette. Tera Patrick has caught the mixing bug (and Lord knows what else!). This shocking revelation slipped past our spam filter and arrived in our inbox a few hours after the 2007 Grammy nominations were announced. According to her flak, the adult film star is now a bonafide celebrity DJ. Should Paul Oakenfold be shaking in his Prada shoes?

When she’s not helming her “multi-million dollar adult film production company” and “high-fashion lingerie collection,” our girl has been busy DJing at joints like Tao in Las Vegas and clubs where douchebags buy $300 bottles of Stoli so they can sit behind velvet ropes in lame VIP rooms, while the staff laughs at these suckers behind their backs. Oh, and let’s not forget the pornophiles. They’ve gotta be coming out in droves to see her drop irrelevant 50 Cent tracks and watch her shake what her mama (and plastic surgeon) gave her. Ca-ching!

Thanks to YouTube, we found footage of Ms. Patrick in the mix in Hawaii. Watch her get important DJing advice from her beau Evan Seinfeld, an obvious wizard of the dance floor since his days playing bass with hardcore metal titans Biohazard, and see her spin pretty red vinyl (how old school!) for 23 seconds of a 7:58 clip. The rest of the footage (which unfortunately doesn’t allow us to hear the porn queen’s mixing skills) contains scantily clad dancers, some dreadful breakdancing and a really scary guy with a 12-pack. Sounds like the plot of one of her movies, not that we’ve ever seen one. It’s nothing short of Tera-ble!

Dear Sufjan,
I can’t take it anymore. I’ve always been honest with you and expected the same, but now all I get are these games.
You said you were going to come visit on November 28th, and then you canceled leaving me broken and lonely without a reason to hold on to. Now I hear you’re coming on December 17th and you don’t even tell me yourself, I have to hear from the Pen American Center.
I don’t even know who you are anymore. When we first met you were a young, sweet singer songwriter, self-taught from the rustbelt. But those guys at Pen told me you have an MFA from the New School in creative writing and you’ve published in the Sunday Observer (UK), Topic, and even written an introduction to the Best American Non-Required Reading 2007! I was fine with a piece for the Believer here and there, but what’s going on? Who are you?
Also, I don’t see where you get off making a film about the Brooklyn Queens Expressway? Have you forgotten about Interstate 94 from Detroit to Chicago? Or What about 75 to Toledo? And since when did you become a filmmaker? Next I’m going to hear that you went to Tisch, or that you’re actually a forty-year-old Russian spy.
I haven’t decided if I’m going to see you at the PEN American Center’s second presentation of its new literary series, PENultimate Lit at Southpaw: 125 Fifth Avenue, Park Slope, Brooklyn. Maybe in their effort to discern what makes “writing really matter…in the 21st century” you’ll have some answers for me too. I heard rumors that you won’t even be performing. That makes me very sad, please bring in the Illinois…for old times sake.

Questionably Yours,
Everett (guest blogger)

P.S. doors open at 8

Dear [club / booker / promotor],

On behalf of my band(s), i'd like to personally thank you for your latest offer to play your club / night, as well as the lengthy list of dates you have once again included. I regret i'll have to pass, once again.

No offense, but it seems strange that, in a city so overrun with bands and musicians as NYC, you would have such trouble filling your nights. This is why i feel compelled to point out a few things, from a musician to someone looking for musicians, that may aid you in your future efforts.

For starters, casting a dragnet for bands with the proviso "must be able to bring (x) amount of people" is not exactly putting your best foot forward. This is a bit equivalent to:

Schlubby guy seeks girlfriend. Must have HUGE tits.

Mind you, i could probably hold up my end of the bargain in terms of draw (or tits), if you were offering a desirable time slot and / or a bill with like-minded bands. "Tuesday Night $7 Crapshoot" though, different story. How am i supposed to get excited about this (or promote this)? What decent-drawing band would subject themselves to this?

And, most importantly, what exactly is your club or the night you book bringing to the table? Other than an open door and a willingness to pocket money? I'm a little stumped.

Now, you know this as well as i: even though it may not be right or just, BANDS ARE LAZY AND ENTITLED. Let's look at it this way:

* Bands are willing to play unpaid shows
* Bands are willing to play with bands they've never heard of that probably don't sound like them
* Bands are willing to subject their fans to inferior clubs
* Bands are willing to pay $50 for vans and schlep all of their equipment

But, bands are NOT willing to do more than one of those things. Two, in extreme exceptions such as being paired up with a major act, or trying to break in to a club much more desirable than your place. Bands that are willing to do all this crap sure as hell aren't drawing 20-25 people on a Tuesday night.

Besides, bands have the luxury of being lazy and entitled, because most bands never make money and can carry on for a good long time without it, almost like a cockroach. If your club doesn't make money, however, well, you're about to get turned into a Blimpie.

With this honest assessment of the nature of the club / band dynamic, let's instead see how you, the venue, can make yourself a little more enticing, to bands and fans alike:

1. Get a Goddamn Backline. It's my experience that a band will play absolutely anywhere, with anyone, at any time, and probably for free if all they have to bring are guitars and a snare drum. If merely filling the stage is your desire, bite the bullet and get a drum set, a bass cabinet and a decent combo guitar amp. About $1400 up front, a lifetime of bands and thirsty patrons for you and your club.
2. Offer at least one cheap drink special. Yeah, rent is a lot, paying a soundman costs money, etc. Conversely, a bottle of well vodka, wholesale, costs about $3.50. A cheap well drink special will keep people listening and dancing to bands at your club much longer, especially once it gets cold out. I mean, i love Trash, but this is probably the primary reason Trash is still in business. If drinks are expensive at your place, no one has any problem relocating to whatever bar is inevitably across or down the street, once their see-the-friend's-band obligation is carried out.
3. Consider having one free night of the week. Bands relish the opportunity to play in front of new faces. Fans relish the opportunity to spend more on booze - at your venue - now that they haven't had to pay a cover. This is exactly the sort of collective enthusiasm that can actually tear people away from the TV on a Sunday night. You know "Free Show Sunday" could be your little theme or something. Get creative!
4. "One drink ticket per band member" makes you look like an asshole. See Item 2. Plus, bands have no problem not returning to a club / booker that they perceive as being unappreciative.

So, it's simple: put a little effort into making your club desirable, and, well, actually, it's probably too late for any of that. No offense, but we'd rather play at Southpaw or Cake Shop. In fact, this note was probably just to say "i told you so" when your place finally boards up. But, disingenuous as it is, you can't say i didn't try to help.

~ jc

 

So, it's not even December, and already, the year-end list fever is in full effect. You already have your (quickly fleeting) chances to vote in the Gummy Awards, the Pluggie Awards, the Huggie Awards, Christ, you name it. And, chances are the same four or five records will rake in all the prizes too, but that's a rant for another time.

Predictably, some blogs have already gone as far as to post Best of 2007 results, including one - which i refuse to link to - that has already dropped a Top 100 list. 100??!! Who is so much of a craphound that they'll cop to liking 100 new releases in a single year? It wasn't even categorized, genres or otherwise. If you can come up with 100 titles that you deem worthwhile over an 11-month span, doesn't that mean at least another 8 or 9 will drop in December? Plus, if you're that indiscriminate (or that eager to share with the world your view on what the 72nd best CD of 2007 was), do you really have any business evaluating music in the first place? You know, what *don't* you like?

Anyway, i know that the "I was there first" mentality is what makes music blogging such a vibrant activity, but really, what a dumb thing to try and get a jump on. If you are the sort that complains about seeing Xmas decorations the day after Halloween, you hopefully find all this a little annoying. 

That said, the aforementioned list put "Boxer" at Number 1. Not much to argue there. At least as of now.

I just got done reading this. And trust me, it wasn't easy.

Late to the game? Here's the recap, thus far: Kevin Barnes, leader of indie rock band Of Montreal, in 2006, decided to sell some material to Outback Steakhouse. You, know, for a laugh. Considering his willingness, up to that point, to talk a fairly big game about the integrity of art and the artist, to turn around and take the blood money, this was a pretty big slap in the face to an insular community - the music blogosphere - not used to any genuine controversy.

And, he's about to do it again, this time with T-Mobile.

So, as a pre-emptive strike, a PSA for fellow middling-indie musicians who are considering the same gambit (Band of Horses recently got cold feet about a similar deal with Wal-Mart), or just for the hell of venting, Barnes recently submitted a lengthy, bizarre screed attempting to justify both his previous decision and his impending repeat performance. Festooned with the C- term-paper title "Selling Out is Impossible", the piece has launched Barnes past "sell-out" status into "defensive, entitled sell-out" status. Nicely done.

. . . . . .

Three things before I go much further:

1. No, I'm not a fan of Of Montreal, or the milquetoast Beach-Boy harmony pop scene at all. So, let's get that one on the table as soon as possible, but also keep in mind this: my objections to Barnes are in no way rooted in music. I'm of the mind that you can make whatever music you want, and think there is no wrong reason to branch out and experiment with your career.

2. I don't idealize art by making it mutually exclusive with commerce. That said, selling a song you wrote to a major corporation, even / especially a jingle-fication of one, is purely venal. In fact, a recent article on this very blog – about the five coolest songs in commercials, or some such – was the sort of thing i was brought up to disdain, or at least be suspicious of. We're raising them to be good consumers these days I guess.

3. Please realize, as Barnes doesn't, there is a huge chasm between the musical blogosphere and, you know, the real world. Even if I wanted to go, I don't personally know where an Outback Steakhouse even is. Alas, for every one of me, there's an entire community of people who probably eat at Outback twice a week, and briefly wonder who the fruity-voiced guy singing the jingle is.

. . . . . .

In fact, that's part of what makes this article so fascinating: Barnes is so sensitive, he inflates the opprobrium of a percentage of his own fan base into his own personal bigger-than-Jesus. Especially since, strangely enough, a lot of the response to Barnes' article has been supportive and genial. You know, because selling out is a-ok these days, remember. Hell, the fact that there was any objection at all seems to have caught Barnes completely flat-footed. Alas, considering we are talking about commercials and marketing, Barnes, over-estimating both his legacy and his intelligence, made an unthinkable misstep: He didn't account for his demographic.

People like - ick - Britney Spears or whoever can sell out and emerge unscathed because, though "recording artists", they are not "artists." We are taught that people who emotionally identify with such figures are vapid dopes; we are taught that people who emotionally identify with indie-pop bands such as Of Montreal are cool, educated, cultured (while a smidge "counterculture" too, because, you know, they wear sneakers to work and stuff), and most importantly ... DON'T EAT AT PLACES LIKE OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE. Or perhaps more accurately think eating at places like Outback Steakhouse IS BENEATH THEM. One gets the sense that Barnes' shilling for Ben Sherman or Apple or something less synonymous with Fat Middle America wouldn't have made many waves. It's not that he's a shill, it's that he's a shill for a product his fans don't identify with. How he continues to miss the vagaries of that one mystifies me.

Instead, he views his fan base as a needy cabal impeding his career growth, when he even bothers to acknowledge their existence at all. In doing so, it's clear he does not have near the emotional connection with his fan base as his fans assumed he was capable of. Because, you see, it's not that Barnes is willing to throw them (and perhaps even his bandmates) under the bus for artistic, political or even philosophical considerations. He's doing it for the money. Oh, and a laugh. Hey, if your art means that little to you, Mr. Barnes, then it means that little to us as well.

. . . . . .

So, Barnes is a sell-out. In the halls of rock history, he has plenty of company. That he's sullied the good name and nature of "indie" rock is only the cherry on that sundae. But, that's hardly the entirety of my problem with Barnes' article.

Here's what's really getting to me: What's with dragging punk rock into it? When exactly did punk rock has become the new enemy? That Barnes makes punk rock, or should i say "punk rock", his red herring, is a hilarious symptom of his feverish bout of ass-covering. You know, he's had a year to think about this, he could've come up with a better scapegoat.

Naturally, he can't resist vilifying "punk rock" in the most indie, antiquated, insider manner possible: by singling out Sandanista, a triple-disc Clash album that even most Clash fans don't like. He might as well have said Cut the Crap and *really* wowed some record store nerds. Still, it's too calculated to be dismissed as pure insanity, as he chose an album no punk enthusiast could really defend, while still coming across as some glib twerp who has "outgrown" the genre, one he probably never bothered immersing himself in to begin with. Hell, i'm surprised he didn't use the term "three-chord" in there anywhere. Punk rockers were entertainers too, Mr. Barnes, and they had to put up with a lot more crap for a lot less gain than you've ever experienced. For a much more noble cause.

Still, as much as i bristled reading these passages - i could go into an even bigger sidebar piece about how the innovations of punk rock made things like the financial tenability Of Montreal even possible - i'm gonna do us all a favor and chalk this one up to really brain-dead short-hand on Barnes' part. Sandanista, what-evs.

. . . . . .

The thing is, the piece he wrote is actually quite thought-provoking, even if for all the wrong reasons. Basically, it forces us to decide whether we are the music aficionados we fancy ourselves, or the sort of mindless consumer we claim to disdain. In the last year, a lot of Of Montreal fans have, thanks to Barnes, found themselves on the wrong side of the divide. Plus he has put us maddeningly in a position where we have to ask ourselves: would we do the same thing? As cursory as Barnes’ soul searching appears to have been, most would eventually end up making the same decision. Those of us who wouldn’t - or claim they wouldn’t - will probably never have the opportunity to prove it. To Barnes, casting objectors as sanctimonious hypocrites proves too tempting to pass up. Kinda like the money.

And hopefully he got a lot of money out of the deal, and that the whole thing continues to amuse him, although judging by the pissy tone of his piece, that one has hardly panned out. Thanks to that piece, though, one thing's for certain: in the minds of anyone who’s ever heard of Barnes, he and Outback Steakhouse are now linked more than ever.

It is my prediction - and my hope - that they remain linked for the remainder of his career.

 

1. The Fiery Furnaces

Midwestern siblings move to Brooklyn and (with their assorted friends) learn to thumb their noses at such silly and outdated musical conventions as keeping a coherent song structure, tying melody at least loosely to rhythm, and avoiding abrupt key changes, presumably for the sake of making avant-garde, challenging, "important" art. Unfortunately, IMHO, they fall terribly short, to utterly unlistenable results. It begs the question: how do you make a concept album when you can't even stick to a single musical theme within your songs for more than eight bars?

We get it, Friedbergers: nothing is cool anymore, so you're the coolest MFers in the room. And you're a bro & sis, so you've got the whole bipolar, yin-and-yang, love-hate, sibling rivalry thing down pat. Now would you please cease assaulting our ears with garbage like "Automatic Husband," and go back to fighting in the backseat of your mother's minivan?

2. Animal Collective

(See: Fiery Furnaces, The.) Also, wtf is this?! I didn't think it would be possible to give Koyaanisqatsi a worse soundtrack, but I think I may have found one. Actually, kudos to Animal Collective for making music so bad that it's an adventure to listen to it.

3. The Velvet Underground

Young chain-smokers on the LES make music that sucks very, very loudly, then ride Andy Warhol's coattails to stardom before ditching him to become "consciously anti-beauty," to quote VU co-founder John Cale. Lou Reed's droning monotone officially made him, in his day, the worst frontman in rock-and-roll history -- an honor which now, of course, belongs to Chad Kreuger. The Velvet Underground made being filthy, pasty, and addicted to heroin into an art form, twelve years before Pete Doherty was even born.

4. Okkervil River

Dear Will Sheff,

Neither acoustic strumming, nor the quotidian minutiae of your life, lend themselves well to "epic" pop music. In addition, my interest in your brood, brood, brood, YELLLLL vocal stylings really peaked at "Another Radio Song;" now I find all the baying to be just a little contrived. All in all, though, Billy Boy, it's not so much that I completely hate your band's music as much as I feel that you simply don't deserve reviews as flattering as this. Have you ever thought about snorting some Pixy Stix, putting on a Dan Deacon record, and dancing for no reason? It could change your life...

Your biggest fan,

E.J.

5. Pavement

Nonsensical lyrics AND bone-rattling atonal guitar riffs? No thank you. Props to Steve Malkmus for being so literate, but did nobody tell him that part of what makes truly classic literature perpetually relevant and enjoyable is the fact that it eschews obfuscation for frankness, introverted angst for objective lyricism? Unfortunately, though they admirably captured a certain early-1990s zeitgeist, Pavement's music today sounds to me to be forced and purposefully irritating. Pavement could have been the second coming of the Modern Lovers; but instead of Jonathan Richman's achingly straightforward lyrics, Malkmus penned such gems as "It took a giant ramrod / to raze the demon settlement." [settlement? sediment?...whatever, who gives a damn?]

Image courtesy of Rough Trade Records (www.roughtraderecords.com)

In 2002, I promoted a DJ battle at the now defunct Roxy and asked Run-DMC’s Jam Master Jay to serve as the MC for the night. Over the years, I’ve met many of my musical idols and working with Jay was a dream come true. I remember Jay rolled into the venue with his posse before the start of the show and was all smiles. He wore a SF Giants jersey and his trademark hat. All he asked for was a bottle of vodka to get the party started, and I was happy to oblige. On stage, he was funny and knew how to work the crowd. When the event was over, Jay saw me backstage, gave me a hug and said he had a lot of fun hosting the battle. I was so stressed out from dealing with the owners of the club all night, but his energy elevated my spirit. A photographer friend of mine who was backstage saw us and snapped a picture. She captured a moment I’ll never forget.

The other day I found that picture, and I was reminded of the tragic demise Jay met the following year. Five years ago today Jay was gunned down (shot in the back of the head, actually) in a recording studio in Hollis, Queens. Despite the presence of several witnesses (one account states that Jay hugged one of the assailants moments before the gun was fired), the murderers are still at large. In April a suspect was named, but the case remains unsolved.

 

Five years on Rev. Run has a successful hit “reality” show on MTV and DMC has been busy with various projects. But the pain relating to this unsolved case still affects those who knew Jay and were touched by the music he made in Run-DMC.

"I have bitterness for a lot of people, but I just keep it to myself now," Jay's sister, Bonita Jones, told the Daily News. "I really just want some closure. I want to know who did it and why they did it. Somebody out there knows."

If there's anything bloggers like to talk about more than other bloggers, I've yet to find it. And in true blog-form, here's a blog post about bloggers blogging about bloggers. Blog.

Over the last couple of weeks we've seen the anti-blog-hype movement come to something of a head. Jess at Idolator had a good (though itself a little over hosanna-ed) piece calling out the Black Kids as the victim of the hyperactive blog coverage cycle; Last Plane to Jakarta weighed in, suggesting we not throw the positive-criticism-baby out the with hype-bathwater; Pretty Goes with Pretty has been covering this topic for a little while now; hell, even the New York Times had a thing or two to say.

It seems that the conclusion is that music blogs are too uncritical and eager to break the next big thing - so much so that they/we place nascent bands in impossible situations and end up spending a lot of energy on mediocre music. I find it a bit funny that things have turned out this way in the music blogosphere, when in most other 'spheres blogs are most maligned for their over-criticism and nit-picky nature. Think Fake Steve Jobs, think Perez, think Koz. Why are indie kids - who once had a reputation for snobbery - so sycophantic when it comes to the age of blogs?

continued after the jump...

 

In my assessment of things, it all comes down to speed. Now that everyone can know everything about an obscure band without putting in too much work, the scene currency is no longer encyclopedic knowledge - but novelty. This drive to be the first kid on the block with the new toy leads bloggers to claim that their new toy is the best - even if it's a band like Black Kids or Vampire Weekend who aren't bad, but don't really deserve the hype.

Is this a bad thing? Probably, but it can't - and won't - sustain itself. We're all very used to the emperor having no clothes by now and I think we'll start to see the wheat more easily separated from the chaff before long.

But I have to agree with Ryan, when he says that it's been a while since there's been such a discussion of "The Scene". I'm afraid I've just made it a little more meta however.

I think I was scammed by a scalper last night. The Justice concert at Terminal 5 was sold out when I got there - - desperate for tickets, I stooped to buying a pair off the street. I paid a scalper for two tickets, but walked away from the transaction with only one in hand. Did I drop one of them? Did it magically find its way back to the scalper's pocket? Who knows. Leave it to me to find a magician scalper.

Anyway, once I realized my loss, I found the gentleman who sold me the ticket and asked him if there was some kind of mistake. He casually shrugged and offered to sell me another ticket. This slight concern was appreciated, but I was still not satisfied. I decided to inquire further about the lost ticket, and in the process got to know the fellow a little better.

The scalper wouldn't give me me his name, but didn't hesitate to tell me about his myspace page. Apparently, when he's not scalping, he's rapping under the alias Dre Hot. His myspace page address? myspace.com/drehot07. Whoa, sweet address man. But what will you do in January '08?

Anyway, I decided to take a listen to Dre Hot this morning. As bitter as I was from losing money, I actually really dug the songs on his page. For no budget recordings, his beats are solid and slightly addictive. His lyrics? Lucky for me I was wearing headphones. These beats are totally NSFW Mother F*%#ers. In his single "Lip Gloss," Dre Hot examines the correlation between a lady's use of lip gloss to the quality of her fellatio. Brilliant, to say the least. If you're into underground hip hop, this guy might be for you.

Oh, btw. Justice was boring.

Over the past week the music world lost three important people, and we should all take a moment to remember these pioneers.

Ministry’s bassist Paul Raven (pictured) was found dead on Sunday in a private home in a small French village on the Swiss border. According to a press release issued by his publicist, initial reports indicate Raven died of a heart attack. Raven (known also for his work with Killing Joke, Prong) was in Geneva working with French recording artists Treponem Pal on their new release, with Marco Neves, Ted Parsons (Prong) and members of The Young Gods. In addition to his work in Ministry, Raven participated in other collaborations including Prong, Murder, Inc., Pigface, Godflesh. He was nominated for a 2006 Grammy for Best Metal Performance for his work with Ministry’s Al Jourgensen, with whom he had begun working with in late 2005 on the 13th Planet release Rio Grande Blood. After a 2006 World Tour with Ministry, Raven helped Jourgensen and Prong’s Tommy Victor pen the current (and final) Ministry release, The Last Sucker.

South Africa’s biggest-selling reggae artist Lucky Dube was murdered on October 18 in a Johannesburg suburb in front of his kids in an apparent botched carjacking. A South African judge today ordered four men accused of killing the artist held without bail after they made a brief appearance in a court packed with the singer's fans. During his life, Lucky Dube recorded over 20 albums and won as many awards. For a man who stood for peace and harmony, it's hard to make sense of his murder over something as meaningless as a car.

Last Wednesday Joey Bishop, the last member of the Rat Pack, died at age 89. Bishop, along with cohorts Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis, Peter Lawford and Dean Martin, mixed music and comedy for music in an age whose quest for cool was steamrolled by the sexual revolution of the '60s.

Though these three artists hailed from different eras, countries and cultures, their collective contributions will live on forever.

Paula Neudorf makes her LWMB debut with a piece on one of Williamsburg's newest venues.

Northsix was no CBGB or Palladium, but while seeing my first-ever show at the Music Hall of Williamsburg this past week (Simian Mobile Disco: thanks CMJ!), I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for the poorly-lit club the Music Hall has effaced/replaced.

The hall is part of Bowery Presents' expanding empire, which includes Bowery Ballroom, Mercury Lounge and Terminal 5. It opened its doors for business in August to a series of sold-out shows. The beleaguered Northsix, meanwhile, had its unceremonious end back in January when ConEd shut its power down just before its farewell show was set to begin. It doesn't get more indie than that!

The space has changed dramatically: the Music Hall can definitely pay its bills! While the floor area in front of the stage is the same size, a previously non-existent basement has been carved out to make room for a bar/lounge area. There are now two balconies that provide an elevated view of the stage, and you can follow these to a second bar/lounge area. Does this sound familiar? It should! It's almost the exact same layout as the Bowery Ballroom.

(continued)

So what's the problem? I mean, a space with acoustics as great as the Bowery Ballroom and an even better look, a good lineup scheduled, at least three separate bars from which to buy alcohol, recessed lighting...

Well for one, a neighborhood venue has fought the good fight, and a Manhattan musical chain stands in its place. With serious digs comes more serious ticket prices, as facilitated by Ticketmaster, and the Music Hall makes Williamsburg and the LES ever less distinguishable. If people hate Williamsburg for its slow death/acquiescence to the corporate-capitalist/hipster-hype machine (or something like that), then count the Music Hall as a very well-designed nail in its coffin.

Guest blogger Alex Staniloff entertains us with a rant on a new fad - Nintendocore.

Some people have a penchant for old-school videogames...well, not Pong-old school, more like Mario-old school, which isn't NEW school....middle school?

An iconic element of these games were the music, composed with 8-bit devices (devices capable of storing 8 different channels/levels of sound...there was way too much science behind an Italian plumber shooting fireballs at venus fly traps) - basically, it's music that scored Nintendo games - not Super Nintendo, not even Nintendo 64.

Well good ol' irony (the molecular compound of hipsters) possessed some young souls in the past decade to create bands that would literally modify their machines, or search endlessly for devices that could recreate the classic Nintendo sound. One breed that has taken this genre to the next level are the Nintendocore bands. As you'd guess, these groups take the Nintendo 8-bit sound and implement it into a hardcore environment, much like emo-core, or Yanni-core...oh, if only there was a Yanni-core.

The staple Nintendocore group, HORSE The Band, thrashes bombastic hardcore tunes while an 8-bit-sounding device whirls and wails in the background, much like a synth would in a band like The Killers. Paying very little homage to the traditional Nintendo songs, groups like HORSE The Band are more popular amongst hardcore fans than actual Nintendo demographic, until they release "Yoshi was a punk rocker" of course.

Conversely, there are bands that take the "hey dude, watch me play Ninja Gaiden song on my guitar!" mentality to an overwhelming level by going so far as creating cover bands entirely devoted to Nintendo songs. The quintessential Minibosses does precisely that: covering a myriad of NES tunes including Contra, Double Dragon, Mega Man and all your favorite pixelated avatars..

Probably the best amalgamation of contemporary music with 8-bit is the group Bit Shifter. Most likely to be classified under the genre of "Bitpop" (mmmm....delicious hybrid genre names...), Josh Davis, the solitaire Dan Deacon of Nintendo music, recreates contemporary styled electronic songs that summon the similar sounds from Ratatat to Postal Service.

Without any vocals involved, Davis uses a Nintendo Game Boy with his own pre-programmed game cartridges to achieve this effect: songs that have a genuinely modern electronic sound, with the timbre and tone of Nintendo games. Davis is known for performing at many videogame style conferences and conventions, but also plays to music venue audiences at shows.

After he returns from Italy, Bit Shifter will be playing at the Rockland Center for the Arts in West Nyack on November 18th. Seeing something this unique live will be worth the trek.

What a day for rock at the Daily News. First, in an events section, an upcoming gig at Webster Hall with One of the Biggest Bands of the Decade, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, was run with a picture of a completely different combo. Sadly, but predictably, Gawker was much quicker with their scanner than I was, and kudos to them for correctly identifying the solemn-looking trio as local DJ team Misshapes (and kudos to me for not being able to make that distinction). I'm a die-hard News loyalist, but you can't really see the Post making this mistake, as they usually reserve such gaffes for concerns more political and / or high profile.

Back to the News: Jim Farber, The Daily's music columnist (a.k.a. the man with the easiest job in the world), raps at you on this slow summer news day about the phenomena of music blogs being the industry's newest taste makers - - a concept which may be into its third or fourth year by this point. That said, at least in the field of indie-rock, the impact is beyond debate. Farber rightly points out that labels need only read "right" blogs to get an idea who their next signing is going to be. What stumps me at least a little bit is this: who's gatekeeping the gatekeepers? Indie-heads read Stereogum and Brooklyn Vegan and the others with no small amount of dedication ... but why? The Gum's obsession with things decidedly non-indie now seems permanent. Vegan - from a content perspective - is about as engaging as C-SPAN. Perhaps these and your Gorilla Vs. Sharks or whatevers of the world are content to rehash and reap whatever benefit comes from the critical sniping of their respective comment-leaving peanut-galleries. It's borderline open-source journalism at this point, and it's gotten them this far, I suppose. Keep in mind, though: this is how things like Tapes N' Tapes happen.

That said, I was quite happy to check out Central Village for the first time, to be greeted with a lengthy article concerning the blogger's dislike of I'm From Barcelona, the only other dissenting opinion I've encountered yet on that bunch of happy-faces. Not all music bloggers have the same exact taste? Hey, I'm almost as surprised as you!