The Contrarian

Halloweenie.

Happy Halloween!

Although I have lots to do, none of it is particularly eeeeevil. At this exact moment, I'm watching the final FCC hearing on localism and media ownership, which is spooky in its own way. Later, I have to go pick up a newly-repaired laptop, then it's back to the office for a conference call.

Maybe I'll encounter some braineaters in my travels. I wish I'd paid more attention to Undead Molly's tips on surviving the zombie apocalype. Oh well, I guess I'll have to rely on my wits, be they what they may.

Let's talk music for a sec.

There's been a lot of hype around Brooklyn band Yeasayer [MySpace], and you know how much I love hype. I'm currently ears-deep in their debut album, All Hour Cymbals, and I do dig. The music shows some real creativity in layering and arrangement, but I'm not terribly into the David Byrne-style vocals. For some reason, Byrne has become the patron saint of modern indie-rock singers. I like the Talking Heads as much as the next hippie (actually, I pretty much stopped listening to them after junior high), but seriously — would the cool-kid bands please move on from Mr. Big Suit?

But yeah, Halloween. Perhaps you should enjoy this clip of Rockwell's creepy classic "Somebody's Watching Me":

OK, back to the hearings. Go Commissioners Copps & Adelstein!

Don't forget about our very own Halloween Podcast!

Invasion Persuasion.

Last night, the wife and I returned home from a hectic day of errand running and turned on the radio for a little background noise while unpacking our purchases. Lo and behold, we dialed in to one of the greatest radio programs of all time: the Orson Wells Mercury Theater production of "War of the Worlds."

Not sure when the last time any of you listened to this thing, but man, it's pretty amazing. I kept trying to imagine what it must've been like back on Halloween 1938, when scattered reports of a Martian invasion crackled across many a mono speaker.

The tension is astounding. Wide-eyed incredulity slowly gives way to a crescendo of paranoia, as Earth's meager forces fall to the encroaching alien invaders.

Many listeners tuned into the broadcast a little late, and missed the disclaimer at the beginning. The result was mass paranoia, exacerbated by an increasingly common piece of household technology: the telephone.

Some claim that Wells crafted the program on behalf of the US government, who wanted to assess public reaction to a mass-scale invasion. The "space alien" stuff was fabricated to create the conditions for analysis; they could later claim it was all just entertainment. Another theory posits that the broadcast was a cover-up for actual alien contact.

While the psy-op premise is interesting, I seriously doubt its legitimacy. Wells rarely anyone towed anyone's line, so why would he cooperate with Uncle Sam? I personally think he was engaging in some preliminary envelope-pushing before taking on William Randolph Hearst with his masterpiece, Citizen Kane.

The influence of this 60-minute radio play was so profound that when Pearl Harbor was attacked, some greeted the official reports with skepticism. Call it "The Boy Who Cried Martian" syndrome.

I was so thrilled to hear "War of the Worlds" again that I absolutely had to own it. I found a copy on iTunes for $5.99, which I bought begrudgingly — shouldn't this be in the public domain? I mean, I doubt my purchase benefits the Estate of Orson Wells.

So, in the spirit of semi-righteous piracy, I present to you a Halloween treat:

MP3: Orson Wells — "The War Of the Worlds"

What I Do.

Russell Senate Office Building.

There's finally been a lull in the storm that has been my past week-and-a-half, so I figured it might be a good time to explain what I've been up to lately, professionally-speaking.

As some of you may know, I recently took on the role of Communications Director for the Future of Music Coalition — a national non-profit education, research and advocacy organization that identifies, examines, interprets and translates issues at the intersection of music, law, technology and policy. Have a look at our advisory board. It's a doozy!

But what does this actually mean? Well, to put it plainly, we make sure that musicians' voices and opinions are part of the discussion on issues that most affect them. If this means dragging rock stars to Congress, we'll do just that. Here's a snippet from a recent FMC blog post:

FMC has helped bring artists' voices to the debate, with Tift Merritt, Jenny Toomey, Chuck D., Tom Morello, Ted Leo, Boots Riley of The Coup, the Indigo Girls and Mike Mills appearing as invited witnesses. Each musician talked frankly about how issues including media ownership, low power radio, payola and net neutrality affect their careers as musicians, and their access to information as citizens.

And that's just a partial list. Say, why don'tcha just bookmark the blog? It'll keep you abreast of many of the things we're up to.

On Monday, we were hurriedly prepping for a Senate Commerce Committee Hearing on "The Future of Radio." Several of the superstar speakers tentatively lined up to testify had prior commitments, but the incredible Mac McCaughan, co-owner of Merge Records, agreed to step in and talk about how community radio has impacted him both personally and professionally. I had a major hand in crafting his testimony, and got to attend the hearings. They were definitely a trip. I blogged about it here; Idolator also threw in their two cents. You can take in the full hearings on your computron.

Then it was full steam ahead for a Seattle Rock the Net event featuring a a concert from Matt Nathanson and a teleconference featuring both he and Rep. Jay Inslee (D-WA). A bit of a scheduling nightmare, but we have it set for Tuesday.

Net neutrality is the idea that all websites and services should be equally accessible on the internet. Some ISPs have proposed charging a fee to Internet content providers to make their sites load faster. Net neutrality advocates believe such a move could make it harder for fans to access the vast array of musical offerings now available through legitimate online stores and services.

Meanwhile, FCC Chairman Kevin Martin is trying to aggressively push for media ownership rule changes that would undoubtedly result in further consolidation of radio, print and television. Trust me, this is not a good thing. Our media reform partners, including Free Press and Prometheus Radio, are kicking ass to make sure that public opinion is counted. Which is tough, considering the FCC scheduled the latest open hearings in a hall that can only accommodate a hundred or so people, and with less than a week's notice. Here's a post about it, by yours truly.

We're also working to put together a DC house party to benefit New Orleans music legend Al "Carnival Time" Johnson, whose home was destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. The hope is to raise money to have Habitat for Humanity build him a new place to live. Mike Mills from R.E.M. is coming up for that. He seems like a real good guy.

And there's tons of other stuff going on, like a major website overhaul which should not only make FMC literature more accessible, but also improve the site's aesthetics.

There's been a lot of movement on issues that directly affect musicians, labels and fans — from open access on the internet to community radio. I'm frankly psyched to be advocating for my own peer group as technology and the music business continue to evolve.

Phew — I hope that at least provides an overview. More later.

Check out our latest Halloween Podcast.

Bring It On Home?

It's apparently Led Zeppelin week here at The Contrarian. Yesterday, I posted about the new Plant & Krauss album (incredibly lovely — can't stop listening) and, later that afternoon, the entire Zep catalog appeared in iTunes in the form of a $99 "digital box set." So far it's only pre-order, as is the new (and utterly redundant) best-of, Mothership. These developments are set to coincide with Zeppelin's one-off reunion concert at London's O2 stadium on November 26.

Zep and The Beatles are among the last colossal bands not to be legally downloadable. We knew a LZ deal was coming — their tunes were recently made available on certain Verizon-enabled phones. But the timing seems odd, considering yet another music biz behemoth is announcing it will switch to a month-to-month contract with Steve Jobs & co.

That's right, Warner Brothers is considering following in Universal Music's footsteps and not renewing their long-term contract. Uni owns the largest percentage of worldwide record labels; if coupled with WB's considerable share, it could result in an uncertain future for iTunes. At the moment, no music conglomerate can afford not to do business with Apple, but many of 'em seem eager to "explore other options." NBC is already doing so, having recently pulled their video product. They'll be teaming up with FOX in a new "free" content-delivery system called Hulu. According to yesterday's article in the Washington Post, this new service will be hard to ignore, due to NBC and FOX's distro deals with AOL, MSN, Yahoo! and MySpace.

Apple is still a major player in the biz, but with Amazon.com now offering MP3s (and paying out 20 percent more to labels affiliates), how much longer can the center hold? Probably as long as the iPod dominates the portable player market, is my guess. Industry experts seem to be anticipating an eventual move to a subscription model, but the mere idea raises so many tricky legal questions that it might not happen for a while. Well, until the majors start declaring bankruptcy, anyway. So maybe sometime next year.

But back to Zeppelin. There's no word on whether or not these new versions will be higher quality than iTunes' standard downloads. The literature states the tracks have been "remastered," but what does that mean? Jimmy Page has supervised at least three previous remasters of the Zep catalog — can they really get any better? I'm guessing that those who don't already own "The Cube" (only $89, with liner notes!) might be interested. The rest of us boarded the Mothership long ago.

Still, it's been a long time. A lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely. . . time.

Dept. Of Oldster Music.

Blonde on Blonde?

A handful of months ago, I heard about a Robert Plant & Alison Krauss album that was supposedly in the can. I remember being only slightly incredulous — Plant, after all, had already drifted into the Americana deep end on his last solo album Mighty Re-Arranger. (Of course, there was also the odd Arabesque number.)

I don't imagine too many Zep fans and modern rockers heard that one, but it was actually pretty good. By that time (2005), Plant had given up on high pitched squealing — which he frankly hasn't been capable of since 1978 — in favor of a mature baritone. This new "old" voice sounded pleasingly world-weary, but also betrayed a smidgen of the old mischievousness.

So what about this Alison Krauss thing? Could the queen of soft-scrubbed bluegrass and the Golden God possibly make music worth listening to?

Yeah, as it turns out. You just gotta be willing to give in to your inner middle-aged person.

The duo's new album, Raising Sand, is absolutely fucking lovely. T-Bone Burnett's sepia-toned production is certainly NPR-bait, but it sure do sound purdy. Although I'm not much for the 'grass, Krauss could sing me the phone book and I'd swoon.

But Plant is the real (re)discovery. I had assumed that his upper register had gone the way of his turquoise jewelry and too-tight dungarees. Actually, he sings the majority of these tunes in a comfortable tenor. And I mean comfortable. I haven't heard Plant sound so relaxed and confident in years. And it's nice to hear that long-submerged Everly Brothers influence bubbling up.

I went back and forth about posting a song, 'cause Rounder (say isn't that Ween's label?) is still hip on DRM. Even more reason to post this MP3, I guess. Lawyers, my e-mail is at the top left of your screen.

Robert Plant & Alison Krauss — "Killing the Blues"

Later. . .

Check out our latest Halloween Podcast.

The Perfect Utensil.

Gotta get ready to go to the Senate (can't believe I just typed that), but I wanted to write a few words about last night's Spoon show at 9:30 Club.

First up, they are a terrific live band. I like a lot of their songs and own a few of their records, but sometimes the albums leave me a bit cold. Spoon's material really heats up in performance, however, with their terse arrangements benefiting from a surging soulfulness that isn't always captured in the studio.

Their recipe is pretty simple: take some Camper Van Beethoven and Archers of Loaf, but subtract the former's hippie experimentalism and the latter's atonal tendencies. Next, stir in a liberal amount of early American rock 'n' roll . Finally, sprinkle on a bit o' English rock attitude, and you've got a tasty indie-rock flan.

This may seem wholly off the mark, but Spoon sometimes remind me of Queens of the Stone Age. "No way," you might say. "That group is for Mustang driving stoners and amphetamine freaks — Spoon are for cool dudes and cute ladies!" I'd counter that the common links are The Beatles and Led Zeppelin. A lot of QOTSA songs have a melodic bounce that seems to come from the British Invasion playbook. That band made it cool for metalheads to enjoy upbeat pop. Likewise, Spoon made it OK for indie-rock kids (and lithe young women — lots 'of em) to rock out to muscular, Zep-derived backbeats and tricky time shifts.

Front man Britt Daniels has one of the best voices in rock. His range isn't all that great, but he knows just where to push those croaky pipes of his. Also, he's got a pretty clean falsetto, which I personally think he should use a little more.

I also love Spoon's drummer — small kit, great sound, perfect touch and not at all flashy. Actually, the bassist is one smooth mofo, too.

I didn't take any pictures, sorry. What do you think this is, BrooklynVegan?

OK, crap. Gotta climb that Capitol Hill.

Mad Season.

These two do not hook up, for reasons viewers will readily comprehend.

Again, not much time for a big post today — lots of work stuff to do, including preparation for a Senate hearing on the future of radio. Which is tomorrow.

Are any of you fans of the AMC show "Mad Men?" Because we've only mentioned how much we love it, oh, a half-dozen times. The season finale was last Thursday; I finally caught it on Sunday night. Gorgeous and affecting as always. The good news is that now you don't have to complain about jumping in mid-season — you can watch it from the beginning via iTunes or just wait for the DVD (I'll be bugging you about that later). If you have one of those nifty cable DVR boxes and get AMC, you should check it out on-demand. Go ahead, spend a weekend. You know you want to.

The Onion A.V. Club published a spoiler-rich recap the other day. It won't make much sense if you haven't already seen the show, but it constitutes a ringing endorsement. Here's an excerpt about my current TV crush, the heavenly Christina Hendricks:

On-the-nose or not, Christina Hendricks’ performance as imperious office slut Joan was never less than a marvel, especially towards the end of the season, when the extent of her melancholy affair with Roger was revealed.

Appreciators of stunningly voluptuous women who can act have even more reason to watch!

No Time, No Time.

Same old pic, same old smile.

In a rush, but here's something to enjoy. The clip is from a recent performance by the "reunited" Van Halen. The band is attempting to perform their hit "Jump," but an uncooperative keyboard sample leads to a musical trainwreck. Seems the main synth part played back a few cycles higher than intended, leaving Eddie and his boy Wolfgang in a hurried attempt to transpose the song in realtime. Didn't work out too well.

Thanks to Nick for the tip.

Oh, Joy? By Jebson Interlandi

None of Ian Curtis' Mondays were happy.

Although I'm inherently a critical person, I typically focus my assessments on social behavior and religion, not music or film. But every now and again. . . why not?

Yesterday, I decided to go to the movies.

Control, for those who don't know, is Anton Corbijn's film about Joy Division's (my favorite winter-time band) deceased lead singer, Ian Curtis. (You've probably seen Corbijn's most memorable photography on U2's Joshua Tree).

The new film focuses on Ian's romantic and medical dilemmas, both of which contributed to his May, 1980 suicide — a mere 11 days after my birth. At the time, Joy Division were about to embark on a two week tour of America, their first. Although Ian hung himself, surviving members crossed the sea anyway and became New Order, a band that is melodic sensibility.

Actually, I won't attempt a proper review, for I trust my editor will eventually write a better one. [ED: Flatterer.]  But here are my personal opinions, put as tersely as possible.

I was worried that this flick would augment reality in favor of maintaining legend, as do many movies about bands. Corbijn didn't let it get out of hand.

The movie's chief strength is actor Sam Riley, who played Curtis contemporary Mark E. Smith in the far lighter 24 Hour Party People. No one else could have taken on this role. He even looks like Curtis, at times. The band scenes were my favorite, and the other actors really played the instruments. Riley sang all the Curtis parts, but it wasn't always for the best — particularly during a studio scene featuring a solo vocal on "Isolation." His voice is just way too high. Part of Curtis' uniqueness was that his mature, baritone voice sprang from such a boyish countenance.

Corbijn certainly let his photographer's instincts inform the scenes, which I enjoyed. Black and white was a particularly effective choice. 

And the soundtrack?  I was thrilled to hear Kraftwerk's Autobahn — a film first, I believe.

I feared the worst, but Control wasn't terrible. I must admit, I'm severely bored with movies about the romantic lives of music personalities: Kurt and Courtney, Sid and Nancy, Jim and Pam, Ian and Debbie. . . I just find it dull. But for those who enjoy romantic drama, this flick will be more up your alley. You don't even need to be a fan of the music. 

Curtis died young, and if anything, Control will elicit some sympathy. Its protagonist thought big, but he wasn't meant to be a star. I love the fact that Curtis never appeared to give a shit about fashion, musical or otherwise. He was sincere and original. That's why I'm a fan. And fuck, he got married when he was sixteen, and became a father at the inexperienced age of 21. Pair that with epilepsy and the remnants of adolescent angst, and you've got a recipe for trouble. And watching Werner Herzog's Stroszek on the night of his suicide might have just given him the confidence to go through with his misguided escape.

Was it really worth making a movie about Ian? I don't think so. Still, it should introduce a whole new slew of people to Joy Division. It also works as a showcase of Corbijn's newfound skill with film. . . the cremation scene alone proves he has a director's eye. 

So yeah, go see it.

I'll be back at some point, hopefully with something elaborate to say about this new U.S Embassy they're hoping to build in Iraq. 750 million dollars to construct, this slap-in-the-face to Iraqi laity is black comedy at its best. Supposedly, it's going to have an arcade, a water-park, a casino and a golf-course with lots of sand-traps. I love life.

Check out our latest Halloween Podcast.

That's Racialist.

Never Forget.

Anyone read Sasha Frere-Jones' highly polarizing article in the latest New Yorker about the "whiteness" of indie-rock ?

Idolator are really taking the piss. Failed Pilot had a few choice words, too.

While I agree with many points made in the piece, I don't like that Frere-Jones seems to define “blackness” in music as solely American rhythm & blues, funk and soul. What about the pan-globalism (and pro-Africanism) that permeated the krautrock of the ’70s, and subsequently influenced Robert Fripp, Peter Gabriel, Paul Simon and the grandpa of adenoidal indie-rock, David Byrne?

Also, the Young Lions of the ’70s jazz world were very keen on incorporating the elements of 20th century avant-classical into their improvised “beat” music. Sasha is an excellent writer, but this reductionism raises an eyebrow. Why no mention of the indie-disco-electro craze of a few years back? That shit was all about rhythm. Well, that and peg jeans and bangs.

Yo, Sash — indie-rock (whatever the heck that even means) ain't just Arcade Fire. Actually, I'm thinking of starting a swing-thrash-zydeco band. Who wants in?

Check out our latest Halloween Podcast.