The Contrarian

Contraflow. . . By Jebson Interlandi

This week saw the release of The Fall's new album, Imperial Wax Solvent.  What, this must be their 50th or 60th album? I haven't heard it yet, but I hope to soon. I'm not a huge fan, but Mark Smith does manage to crack me up sometimes. He serves as another reminder of my potential future self — a reclusive, opine contrarian who can still handle his drink.

More intriguing than the album, in my view, is Smith's new rant/autobiography, Renegade: The Lives And Adventures Of Mark E. Smith. From what I understand, the book contains more heartfelt convictions than tales of mud sharks or shitting oneself on an airplane and convincing your roadie to swap pants. Here are two excerpts I'm happy to endorse:

"What gets me is the lack of lyrical effort shown by bands nowadays. Me and the wife use that thing on the telly with the subtitles to read some of the lyrics. Jesus Christ! 'I'm going up the hill, you're going to leave me, I'm going to leave you, why did you leave me?' It's pathetic: all meek and self-absorbed. I'm just not interested in hearing about some lad's break-up with some college girl. . .

. . .lads today are a bit too open like this anyway: going to the doctor's every five minutes telling them how depressed and distanced they feel. I think it's because they've got too much time and space to think about themselves. You don't get lads like that in Russia. It's not part of the culture there. It's a uniform, if you ask me: an identity. You can hear the whingeing in their music. It's stale. They should stop hiding away in their bedrooms with their computers and get out a bit."

Lastly:

"Degrees have a way of warping people  — it's not good for people to spend that amount of time at university, acting like rock stars on weekdays. They get so distanced from the real world that they haven't a fucking clue what's needed. It's a luxurious prison, almost. Once they get out, once they're released, they're good for nothing other than having weekly reunions with their old housemates, getting jobs with their old housemates, or staying on to receive more educational therapy or forming piss-poor bands. And they've all got foppy fringes."

I happen to be a student, myself, for the moment. Somehow, I managed to pull the wool over everyone's eyes. I've been an enemy of University and Academia for some time. I tend to stand on the side of Education, which I feel has detached itself from those self-contained/self-justifying islands in the sky. One of these days I expect to stumble upon a School of Comparative Irrelevancies offering courses such as "Urban Planning for Gypsies or Morse Syntax" (titles stolen from Umberto Eco). For a more brutal and honest critique of the current academic arena, check my satirical novel yet to be written. Due out in a couple years.

Just for kicks, you've got to see this '80s training montage from No Retreat, No Surrender. Hold out for the black kid eating ice cream on the guy's lap. What the fuck?:

Flame On.

The internet is a curious place. I'm equally fascinated and repulsed by the reply comments I read at various sites, mainstream and otherwise. Depending on the temperament and medication intake of those who feel obliged to mark digital territory with their grammatically-challenged offal, such comments can either provide a chuckle or make one pray for a planetary collision with a colossal meteoric object.

[An aside: Godwin's Law states, "As a Usenet discussion grows longer, the probability of a comparison involving Nazis or Hitler approaches one." I find this to be mostly irrefutable.]

I usually enjoy the comments on Idolator. This is because the readership is, by and large, comprised of snarky musical elitists, which means I'm in good company. Sometimes I go against my better judgment and chime in myself.

The other day, Idolator scribe Dan Gibson posted an out-of-the blue diatribe against The Doors. Now, I understand that for many, appreciating the band is merely an adolescent rite of passage. Others, like myself, revere them for the giant permission slip they gave to rock 'n' roll to indulge its lusty, metaphysical urges. (But if you don't find humor in the band's stylized nihilism, you're totally missing the point.) Some, including people I respect, absolutely abhor the group. This doesn't prevent me from occasionally rushing to their defense, especially when I've passed my productivity point at work. (You know, like now.)

So if you have some time to kill, you should check out this Idolator post and its attending comments. Not only did yours truly get firsties, I also managed to land a couple of zingers. If you make it through that thread, you might wanna read today's (somewhat) pro-Doors retort from Idolator's Anthony Miccio.

Or you could just skip the whole thing, and listen to this genius song from Bruce McCulloch of Kids in the Hall fame. I'm not asking here. This is an order.

In other news, my brilliant, beautiful wife and I are taking a long weekend in San Francisco in June. Well, one day will be work-related. But after that, we're gonna visit with Arthur and enjoy us some California dreamin.' Maybe we'll even have a Democratic nominee by then. We'll definitely have a house. Did I tell you we close on May 23 — my birthday?

Record Stores.

Tomorrow is Record Store Day (remember those?), so if you're lucky enough to still have one in your 'hood, be sure to swing by and say "Wow, I didn't know you guys were still here! Where do you keep your Coldplay?" Trust me, the clerks will love it.

The wackiest, most carefree years of my life were spent working in a storied indie shop. Yet I find now myself purchasing almost all of my music online. And what I don't buy, I "rent" via Rhapsody. I am the modren man, as Styx once sang. (Can't believe I just typed that.)

Yet I sometimes wish I could return to the good old days. Many of—ahem—today's generation are doing just that, by purchasing vinyl LPs like they're going out of style. Again.

I'm hoping to interview Coalition of Independent Music Sellers honcho (and FMC advisory board member) Don Van Cleave in the coming weeks. I've been talking to a lot of very smart people about the future of digital music, so I figure I should check in with the old-school record-slingers to get their take on where shit's heading.

In the meantime, here are some links about brick 'n' mortar music retailers:

Enjoy Your Local Record Store While You Can [Idolator]

Record Stores Fight To Be Long Playing [New York Times]

A Tour of DC Record Shops [Washington Post]

Thurston, McKaye & Watt in Record Store Documentary [Pitchfork]

Song Charts.

Here.

Self-Aggrandizing.

Two items in today's issue of Washington City Paper. First is my hotly anticipated (by my wife and the cats) review of the new Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds LP, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!!. Second is my micro-profile (or "One Track Mind," as WCP cleverly call it) of local band The Wayward.

On deck: a review of the long-awaited Portishead comeback for Dusted.

As you were.

Copyleft Hand Path.

Musician-reprobate Chuckles Manson is releasing his new record via Creative Commons license, according to Wired's Listening Post blog.

The article makes the usual assumptions that Manson is just a talentless crazy, which is not at all true. Back in the day, he had the ears of at least two Beach Boys, Neil Young, producer Terry Melcher and countless young STD-incubators. Personally, I'd rather listen to Manson than Devendra Banhart. What's the difference, besides multiple homicide and cleaner production? Oh yeah, Charlie is a better singer.

Haven't heard this stuff yet, but it might not be that great, considering he recorded it in 2005. How's that for music snobbery? "Dude, I don't listen to Manson after '71. He lost his edge after he was incarcerated."

But hey, the CC license means you can share it, remix it, mail it to the pigs in a bloody sack — whatever. They're also offering a CD version, which you can buy for $15. Don't worry, Charlie probably won't see a dime. If he does get paid, I suggest he spend his duckets on laser removal surgery for that horrible forehead tattoo of his.

Call Manson dangerous. Call him manipulative. But don't call him a hack. Dude is the true forefather of "New Weird America," or whatever the genre jargon is. I say let him out now and put him on a bill with Roky Erickson and Brian Wilson and package it as the American Flashback Tour.

I smell merchandising. . . or is that patchouli and paranoia?

Sick But Solid.

Got me a ferocious cold just in time for my trip to Utah tomorrow. Oh, well.

"Gypsy" is a decent late-period Fleetwood Mac song.

Talked to the incredibly brilliant (and indubitably British) Peter Jenner this morning. He was in Old Blighty; I was in my PJs. Early in his career, Peter organized the Hyde Park Free Concerts, which melted many a mind. He also managed a little act called Pink Floyd. These days, he works with Billy Bragg, while simultaneously trying to inject artist-oriented ethics into an industry not known for its moral responsibility. We recorded our conversation; it'll be over at the FMC blog once I get a chance to review and edit it.

Working at the intersection of music, technology, policy and law: fascinating. Talking to heroes and having them actually live up to your expectations: priceless.

Led Zeppelin To Tour With Reformed Nirvana!

UPDATE: April Fool's!!!!!!!

I penned this supposed story all by myself, and I'm rather proud of my work. Note how I used words like "queue" and "whilst" for extra authenticity. But seriously — did you really think ANYONE would accept Scotty Weiland as a replacement for Kurt Cobain? There'd be riots in the streets.

From the London Times:

Recent reports have put the on-again, off-again Led Zeppelin reunion tour decidedly back on, with frontman Robert Plant declaring his committment to a worldwide jaunt with the group in early fall. Perhaps most surprising is the band's choice of opening acts, which follows months of rumors and speculation about who would get the warm-up slot.

In another shocker, Zeppelin, which disbanded in 1980 following the accidental death of drummer John Bonham, has tapped defunct Seattle grunge stars Nirvana as openers. This is most surprising to music fans and observers, considering the suicide of Nirvana frontman and songwriter Kurt Cobain in 1994.

Zeppelin mouthpiece Plant explains the decision: "Many associate us with some bygone hippie era, but members of Zep have always kept abreast of modern music," he told the Times via phone whilst prepping for a tour with US bluegrass singer Allison Krauss. "Nirvana, in many ways, were the Led Zeppelin of their time. And if we can get it back together, so can they."

No comments were forthcoming from the Nirvana camp, which includes bassist Krist Novoselic and drummer Dave Grohl, also of rock act Foo Fighters. Rumors of Cobain's replacement have begun to run rampant, with ex-Stone Temple Pilots and Velvet Revolver singer Scott Weiland at the top of the queue.

"Scott is a natural choice," says one associate close to Nirvana. "Of course, he doesn't really play guitar, so they'd have to draft another player. I've heard Izzy Stradlin's [Guns 'N Roses] name kicked around, but at this point, it's just speculation."

Led Zeppelin were among the top concert grosses of their era, with some attendance records still standing. The band has not toured the US since 1977, and are expected to command a hefty ticket price for any and all dates.

Wow. I can't fucking believe it. As psyched as I am about Zep touring, I'm pretty pissed off that Nirvana would contemplate reuniting without Kurt. And especially with that douchebag Weiland. When are bands gonna learn?

Bitter Irony.

Sony/BMG Under Investigation for Software Piracy [WiredBlog]

I mean, do you even need to read it?

The Most Revolutionary Piece Of Music Production Software Ever.

If your a musician or producer, you must watch this video all the way through. Hell, even non-musicians should check it out:

I'm totally getting this the second it becomes available. I''ll never have to play but a single chord again. (I'll still do my rippin' leads the old fashioned way).