A very funny article about Mariah Carey…
The fine folks over at Whatever-Dude have posted an insightful critique of Mariah Carey’s career, boobs and personality titled, Mariah’s Theme: An Unholy Shriek of Death. Check it out.
Yet more breaking news…
According to the Chicago Sun-Times, Jay Bennett has left Wilco. What is going on with this band? Is Tweedy going to be able to keep it together, or is this the beginning of the end? Can you even call it Wilco anymore without Jay Bennett? Wow. I’m baffled. What’s going to happen to my favorite band?
I guess Jeff Tweedy is no stranger to the ever-changing band line-up scenario. The original drummer for Uncle Tupelo, Mike Heidorn, left before they recorded their fourth album, and was replaced by Ken Coomer, who played drums for Wilco until he was recently replaced by Glenn Kotche. Max Johnston played on the first two Wilco albums and then left to do his own thing. So now the only remaining member of the original Wilco line-up besides Tweedy is faithful, old John Stirratt. I’m sure Leroy Bach is an able enough musician to fill in the gaps on tour, but it was my understanding that Tweedy and Bennett had a real creative collaboration going on between them.
I guess we’ll have to just wait to see what happens…
“A rallying cry for Dodge customers—street smart people with active life-styles who are not afraid to express themselves by driving break-the-mold cars and trucks.” That’s Jim Schroer, executive vp, Global Sales & Marketing, DaimlerChrysler, who is talking about a tagline that will be part of the ads the company will be rolling, ads that are described by Schroer as “bold and uncompromising, a little edgy, and occasionally confrontational, but always fun.” (Sounds like he’s describing GloNo.)
Ready for the tagline? Have you steeled yourself for the banality that you know is forthcoming?
“Grab life by the horns.”
To which I can only proclaim with the highest level of underwhelmed faux enthusiasm:
“Isn’t that what active, street smart, expressive people who drive Dodge products are all about?” (Exit, disgusted.)
Of course, as this is a music, not marketing, site (although my whole schtick nowadays seems to be that popular music is marketing and marketing is popular music, and that’s all you need to know), I must provide the hook to grab onto, which is, as attentive readers know, Aerosmith.
If you’ve ever watched TV, you’ve seen actor Edward Herrmann either doing national Dodge ads, or playing Rory’s grandfather on “The Gilmore Girls.” Poor Edward and his “Dodge Different” spots are being punked by Steven Tyler and the boys of Aerosmith. Presumably, the “The Gilmore Girls” grandpa gig continues, but carbon dating of Tyler may put him in the running for guest appearances as the paternal pater familias.
Anyway, Schroer says, “Aerosmith will play a large role in conveying the edginess of the Dodge brand. This great brand, this great band and this great tag line will work together to yield powerful opportunities and benefits for Dodge vehicles.” [Check this out: dodgeaerosmith.com – ed.]
While all of that bombast resembles a great pile of shit, I wonder: Does anyone really care about yielding “powerful opportunities and benefits” for cars and trucks?
Just play on.
Breaking News from Glorious Noise…
The Chicago Tribune reports that Wilco has signed a deal to leave Reprise Records after the label rejected their recently finished new album, Yankee Foxtrot Hotel. Part of the deal is that Wilco gets to buy back the album and release it somewhere else. Hopefully this won’t take too long.
I have to admit that I downloaded most of the new album via Audiogalaxy, and from my initial listenings, it sounds pretty great. From what I heard, it’s not nearly as weird and “experimental” as I had been led to believe. It sounds good, like it’s continuing along the lines that Summerteeth hinted at. There are strange sounds and strange lyrics, but it doesn’t seem like a crazy enough departure to make Reprise reject it. I mean, it’s not like it’s Neil Young’s Trans. Oh well, one more major label shooting itself in the foot… Fuck ’em.
We all know how badly the record industry wants to clamp down on CD copying. But what they think of as piracy, we think of as doing what we want with something that we legally purchased. An article in the Register reaffirms just how futile the record industry’s fight really is. The article refers to a German program called CloneCD that, according to their website, “writes in RAW mode, allowing full control on the written data. Therefore, CloneCD 3 will produce real 1:1 copies of your CDs.” Sounds pretty great. I’ve always feared that my digital audio extractions were somewhat lossy, so after I try this out I’ll let you know how it works.
There’s also High Criteria’s Total Recorder, which is totally worth the $11.95 registration fee. It allows you to convert any sound file on your computer to a WAV file (which you can then burn to CDs or convert to MP3s or whatever you want to do). Yes, any sound file, even streaming media and those fucking annoying Liquid Audio files. It doesn’t make perfect, digital copies since it has to use your sound card driver, but the fidelity loss is negligible.
If you download these programs now and make backups of the installation files, as long as you have a working computer with a CD drive, the Man will never be able to keep you from listening to your music whenever, wherever and however you want to. Sock it ’em.
FRONTIER JUSTICE: Johnny’s Issue Roundup
Maybe it’s the heat, I don’ t know. But I just can’t concentrate. MTV may make Beck want to smoke crack, but it only makes me angry about 300 things at once. Luckily, there’s still live music to save me from the likes of corporate radio and Summer in the Keys. But I need to get some of this stuff off of my chest so I don’t give my favorite bartender a reason to kick my cynical ass out on the street.
Somethin’ Like a Phenomenon
Girl, you know it’s true: Boybandosity has reached critical mass. Backstreet Boy AJ Maclean’s very public breakdown (announced at a “press conference” thrown by his mates on that paragon of news journalism, TRL) and his group’s tepid stadium tour/album sales have helped make clear the fact that target markets age, too. But don’t cry for Jive Records. N*SYNC, that label’s other stable of high cheekbones and freakish haircuts, has naysayed the naysayers with Celebrity, their latest, er, effort. Roundly derided — basically because it’s really atrocious – the hourlong shitstorm of pompousity nevertheless debuted with authority. It’s first week sales were second only to No Strings Attached, the combo’s previous creative suckhole. So Jive’s still in the black. But it can’t last. Stadium tours are expensive, especially when you don’t sell them out. N*SYNC has something like 2,000 semi trucks carting around its stadium tour, and last time I looked, the Teamsters only get crazy with the hair gel when they’re getting real paid.
Celebrity’s overarching theme – Fame’s a bitch, man – suggests that Justin, et al have taken a page out of Bret Michael’s well-thumbed (in jail) handbook. Remember Native Tongue? That was Poison’s 1993 album that shit-canned CC Deville in favor of guitar savant Richie Kotzen in a quest for respectability. The non-mulleted respectfully kicked it to the curb. What Bret and the cads in N*SYNC don’t realize is that no one wants to hear a pop star complain about how many millions of dollars he makes. Especially when he sings lyrics like this:
Sick and tired of hearing all these people talk about
Whats the deal with this pop life?
And when’s it gonna play out?
Well man, hope you invested well, because there’s a Behind The Music about you in pre-production right now.
Sounding to Try Like You
Ever since “Loser,” Beck has enjoyed the kind of rep that is only written about in novels (no doubt written by failed musicians wishing for exactly that kind of rep..). A respected underground performance artist and purveyor of intelligent folk-core who records for indie stalwart (and tastemaker) K Records, and who hangs out with that label’s owner ( ex-Beat Happening Indie hero) Calvin Johnson, Beck also happens to be a quirky modern rocker who wears Prada, dates Wynona, and makes mad dollaz on Geffen. Since the days of Odelay, Beck has only solidified his credentials. The warmth of Mutations and Midnite Vultures’ sideways Prince sex jokes place him in an elite crew of artists (Bjork, Timbaland) who are thoroughly mainstream while still surfing the bleeding edge.
But a continuing argument amongst the GloNo editorial staff asks the question: Is Beck still relevant as a barometer of cool? His competing label heads seem to think so. It seems like every month something’s referred to as “the new Beck,” when the old Beck is doing just fine. They trot them out on modern rock radio, 3-minute singles of whizzing samples, snide lyrical couplets, and the random DJ scratch. Citizen King, Dynamite Hack, Scapegoat Wax – jeez, even their names are similar. Even those no-talent fucks in Better Than Ezra have jumped on the Beck party train, hiring DJ Swamp to infuse them with Beck-ness. “Extra Ordinary,” BTE’s new single, sounds like Z-grade Mr Hansen, with a little Sublime thrown in for good measure. I almost want to see Better Than Ezra on their new tour, just to see if they’re still as shitty as they were in 1995, touring with Ben Folds Five.
The real Beck please release an album toot suite, and put all these bizarre Becks back in their places? Then they’ll all just go back to impersonating Dave Matthews/Eddie Vedder (see Five For Fighting’s new album) and leave the big kids alone.
Get Your Freak On – Peaches and Taylor Savvy Make it Hot
Sucking on my titties/Like you wanted me/Callin’ me/All the time like Blondie/Check out my Chrissie be-Hynde it’s fine now all the time…
Last week in Chicago, things got a little hotter when Peaches rolled through town. The NC-17 material above comes from Peaches’ bomb track, “Fuck The Pain Away.” Never one to, ahem, beat around the bush, Peaches wears her mullet proud and promptly blows your eyeballs back through your skull with her Roland MC 505 beat box and a stable of hot, sweaty lyrics that would make Li’l Kim proud. The Teaches of Peaches, her current effort on Kitty-Yo, is chock full of the kind of shit that would make every 13-year old in the world giggle and squeal, listening to its swears and sexy beats late at night under the covers with a flashlight. That said, it also made the squad of indie rockers at Chicago’s Fireside Bowl shake their skinny hips like some kind of International Pop Underground sex show.
Arriving on stage in true flashy trash – thrift store lingerie that was boom-bada-boom stripped off during the duration of the set – Peaches was literally a one-woman sex machine. With pre-programmed MP3s laying down the beats, Peaches strutted all over the tiny stage, copping the stage moves of all our sexiest rockers, while at the same time toying with that very issue. After all, what is sexy about music, whether it be female or male, danceable or not? Is it Britney tearing off her tuxedo on an MTV award show? Or is it the one-two punch of Mick’s lips and Keith’s guitar slither? Or, is it Peaches, standing on stage, leading a crowd of stogy indie kids in a chant of “Guys, shake ya dicks, Girls shake ya tits”?
Peaches’ partner for her Chicago shows was Taylor Savvy, who quickly made R Kelly look bad in Earl’s own city. Savvy who looks like Jakob Dylan crossed with Randolph Mantooth, put together a set of sexually comedic musical numbers that featured crooning, brooding, and the kind of sweet nothings you usually hear The Onion’s B. Smoov uttering to his lady. With all of this coming from the mouth of a gangly white guy in the back bar of a converted bowling alley on a 100 degree night in Chicago, it was easy to see how Savvy quickly had the crowd eating from his hand. Leaping into off the stage to kiss the ladies’ hands, Savvy was like sexual energy incarnate. He also showed a real flair for improvisation, given that his accompaniment followed Peaches’ lead – pre-fab MP3s booming out the system while he gyrates on the stage like the Caucasian Maxwell. Try to do that in a new city every night, where no one knows you and they’re used to Gibson SGs and Marshall Stacks, and I’ll buy you a new hat.
Okay, this has nothing to do with music, rock and roll, etc. But it is important, and it’s a great read, perhaps one of the most important pieces of journalism that I have read in the past few years. And fuck it, I’ve got the power to post this here, so I’ll abuse that power. It’s the nature of power to abuse it, right? Coca Cola thinks so, anyway. And that’s what this article is about. So for something totally off topic, go to Guerrilla News and read this article.
It’s long and it’s complicated; it concerns copyright law, covert oprerations by the CIA, bribery of judges in Chicago, and about a dozen other issues, most formidably that Coke has been screwing a single artist whose pop can designs they stole in 1989. Force yourself to read through the whole thing, it’s well worth it. And finally, thanks to Pat for digging this one up and forwarding me the link.
So I got my dead tree copy of the LP News in the mail yesterday and, lo and behold, it has an article on the front page: The Top 25 Liberty Songs. It’s a pretty cool list, and more enlightened than you might expect. Check it out. Not only is the Libertarian Party “The Party of Principle,” but it has good music taste too. That should be more than enough reason to vote for Harry Brown in the next election. (And yeah, I know there are two Rush songs on the list, but what do you expect—we’re libertatians, we have to like them because they like Ayn Rand.)
Detroit’s White Stripes embark on world domination
By Phil Wise
It wasn’t so long ago that Detroit was the butt of all jokes. Everyone from Jay Leno and David Letterman to the writers of Kentucky Fried Movie were taking whacks at the Motor City. But it seems times have changed and Jack and Meg White of Motown’s own White Stripes are laughing now.
Not in recent memory has an indie band commanded so much attention as the White Stripes. With mentions in Entertainment Weekly, Time and twice in Rolling Stone, the White Stripes seem to be America’s sweethearts—or peppermint lollypops. Now the Stripes are taking their red and white fleet to the UK and finding the fickle British music press more than willing to sign on for a ride.
Last week’s NME had a one-page, full-color spread of Jack and Meg soaked in their Detroit sweat and signature red trousers. The headline screamed “White Noise, White Heat” as a double nod to Detroit’s only political/musical movement of worth, The White Panthers, and to the White Stripes’ Velvet Underground-influenced affinity for stripped-down jams. By reading the gushing write up you’d think Jack White was the second coming of Wayne Kramer, not the snotty little brother of John Spencer. But that was just a shot over the bow.
The coup de grace has this week’s NME features our heroes on the cover and declares them the “Sound of NOW!” How do they do it? I’m a fan of the Stripes and wish them all the best, but how have they seduced the media to the point of turning mild-mannered Arts & Entertainment editors into multi-national spinmasters?
The White Stripes have pulled off a major marketing coup with this media assault and the rewards could be great, but dancing with the British media can also be dangerous. If you thought the American media’s treatment of Milli Vanilla was bad, you should have seen what the NME and now defunct Melody Maker did to Johnny Marr when he left the Smiths. You’d have thought he killed Paul Weller!
So forge on, White Stripes, and find your fortune on the high seas. But beware the English congeniality, for even the great Spanish Armada met its brutal match at the hands of a British gentleman.