======================== FINLEY BREEZE Issue #6 Don't Believe The Hype November 20, 1995 ======================== Compiler's note... So, yeah, this is a month later than I had expected. Take it out of my paycheck (if you can find it). The past 6 weeks have been insane in many ways, from driving across most of the eastern US for 10 days to becoming a corporate webmaster to acquiring a kitten to realizing that I'm basically doomed to never have a coherent interpersonal/romantic relationship. All this, of course, has been superimposed on a never-ending work schedule which has enjoyable elements but has started to take its toll both physically and mentally (emotions are irrelevant and therefore null and void). In any event, this project isn't ending yet. We made it through 6 issues in a year - that's not bad. This issue even features the return of some long-lost writers from the beginning of this little project. Can we keep the pace up for another year? It's worth a shot... keep your eyes peeled for an announcement re. Finley #7 in a couple weeks, once I take the requisite 2 week breather and watch my life further disintegrate (would you believe I'm actually about to apply to law schools again? what am I thinking?). Sean Murphy grumpy@access.digex.net grumpykin@aol.com (yeah, I broke down and got an AOL account... I wanted some visual/graphic capabilities without the hassles of SLIP accounts... and being able to buy the Styrenes' _It's Artastic_ from the convenience of my computer [via an incredibly flexible, searchable Tower Records database] almost makes up for the inanity of most AOL activities and functions...) =============== The Articles =============== 1. Indie Culture - Dave Malathion 2. Music is a Virus - Mark Cornick 3. You're Just a Radio - Adam Boc 4. Over, Under, Sideways, Down - Matt Maxwell 5. From the "Sound of Young Scotland..." - Sean Murphy 6. Please Pass the Butter... - Dann Medinn 7. What Does It All Mean? - Russell Hall 8. Promotion, or Something... - Jodi Shapiro 9. Why Bother? - Steve Silverstein ============== Indie Culture (a response to Finley #5) Dave Excuse me if I tend to ramble, a writer I'm not. To me, indie-culture (or INDIE-CULTURE) has been a somewhat loose knit community of folks who simply live for the enjoyment of music and, for one reason or another, have been shunned or ignored by the mainstream. Sure, some of it crosses over into the "big business" end of things, just as much as "big business" touches some of our culture whether we want it to or not. I'm not going to ignore a band that I like just because they've got distribution by Sony or whoever anymore than I'm going to buy a record by a band I don't like just because it's on Drag City. When all those little labels became viable enterprises, the amount of good bands that I got to see increased greatly. people realized that they could take this show on the road and it would work. I never got into the "punk" thing, but I'm sure this is where it had its roots. I'm a little older now, and most of the people on the indie-scene are much younger than me, but I've felt a certain energy that I never really felt in the music before. Because of indie-culture, I've met a ton of nice people, seen a fair amount of great bands, waded through my share of crap, and still came out smelling like a rose. My indie-culture has consisted not only of labels and bands, but also zines, and people I've met on this bIg electronic network thing and people I've met that have nothing more to do with music than just hanging out by it. It all seems to be a lot more complicated than it needs to be. relationships are complicated. Hanging out with a bunch of music-heads shouldn't be. ---------- Music Is A Virus Mark Cornick (cornicms@jmu.edu) Yup, it's me, the long-departed, long-out-of-touch guy that allegedly started something big. (What, I don't know.) What follows is my first piece of writing on the topic of "indie rock" in a long time, and probably the last thing I'll write on it for an even longer time. As you might have noticed if you've been reading for a long time, I haven't contributed much of anything to the assorted activities of the Indie-Junta for several months (starting shortly after I dismantled _Telegraph_, which showed some promise but needed a more concerned caretaker - _Finley Breeze_ has proven a formidable successor). During that time I've done a lot of things musically. I hosted a jazz radio show. I recorded an LP with Gospel Midgets, a band which makes noise so uncommercial it makes the Dead C sound like Mariah Carey (or so I've been told). I reviewed techno records. I became a radio program director for a summer, submitted a dialogue to _CMJ_ berating DGC for not sending us anything, and got a nice big "we're sorry" package in return. (Power. Oh yeah. Wow.) I watched a bunch of MTV. Basically, I listened to, watched, played, and performed a bunch of stuff that had nothing to do with "indie rock." And I ended up right back here, with Drive Like Jehu playing on the CD deck and a brand-spanking-new Pelt double LP lying on the desk. Music is one of those things that you pick up on early and never quite let go of (Wow, my grammar sucks!). It's very fashionable among this particular community to deny your past. I did it for a long time. But the recent wave of 80s nostalgia (ugh) challenged me to confront the past which I'd buried under stacks of indie 45s. I can now actually say with a straight face that, yes, I like Prince. (Thank you. Thank you, and thank YOU.) My point here is not to glorify the 80s (the 80s were a bleak and dismal time which should never be repeated) but to show that music buries itself in your subconscious, to a point where it can never quite be removed (except possibly with the use of powerful explosives). When you really like some form of music, it installs itself in your head and you can't shake it out. Such is the case with me and the music of Sonic Youth. Ever since I bought _Daydream Nation_ back in 1990, I've always owned at least one Sonic Youth record or CD (often that one). I've gone through periods of liking music that has little or nothing to do with Sonic Youth. And yet, there's this love of screechy guitar distortion that never goes away. And, as it turns out, it's the case with some other "popular" "indie" bands... like Slint, Jawbox, Tar, the Jesus Lizard, and others. I spent a long time consciously not listening to this sort of thing, in an attempt to expand my horizons beyond a limited scope (a scope, which I realize, in retrospect, that I forced upon myself). It worked - I like a lot more music now - but those noisy guitar guys never went away, they torment me still. So, the question becomes: Why do I have Slint stuck in my head and not, say, Judas Priest? The answer is that I listened to a bunch of Rodan, and almost none of Duh Priest. (By the way, I found a CD in WXJM's library by a really lame-looking metal band called D'Priest.) That, in essence, is the only reason. If I had gone through a period of listening to heavy metal, I'd probably be singing Kiss songs in my sleep or something. As it stands, though, the song running through my head isn't "Strutter," but "Glenn." You, gentle reader, probably have a thing for some facet of "indie rock" because you listened to a bunch of it and it got stuck in your head, too. One day, you may decide that you're tired of, say, Shellac and that you really grok that Kenny G stuff. (PLEASE DON'T. IF YOU DO DECIDE THIS, I'M AFRAID THERE IS NO HOPE FOR YOU WHATSOEVER.) So, you'll be sitting at home listening to Kenny G on the hi-fi, and you'll see the word "shellac" in the paper or something. The odds are pretty good that within a couple of minutes, you'll be singing (insert Shellac song here - we'll use "In A Minute" as an example) to yourself. You might suddenly come to a realization that Kenny G is about as interesting as a cardboard box, and put on your time-worn copy of _At Action Park_ and go "DA-duh, duh-DA-duh, duh-DA-duh, in a minute" along with it. Or maybe you'll temporarily dismiss thoughts of Albini & friends from your head and turn up the M*ch**l B*lt*n. I can't predict that, but I do predict that you will never fully erase Shellac from your head. (I'm just using Shellac as an example; you could subsititute any of your favorite bands.) Ten years from now, I might be listening to some VH-1 mellow adult type garbage. But I'll bet you a pint of Guinness that I'll still own some Sonic Youth records too. ---------- You're just a radio. Adam Boc In the big business picture, there's really nothing but radio. I run into people all the time who say they're way into music, ravenous for new sounds. I am forever seeking converts to music that I like, so I offer to make compilation tapes for people that express this level of interest. I usually compile selections by 20-30 different bands and focus on those who don't stray far from the pop genre, have been around for years, get tons of press, have toured multiple continents, and have easy-to-find records out. I think of myself as a promoter, thinking I can help sell a good record or two. Yet, invariably, the recipients of these little labors of love haven't heard of the bands, have no comment on the music, and ask me "what's a zine?" Typically, these folks listen to modern rock radio and name Live as their favorite act. These are hungry music lovers? This scenario suggests that the chasm between what is on commercial radio, and what isn't, is as great as ever. There's no middle ground and not enough interested people to support musicians who'd like to earn a middle-class wage. Finley Breeze readers probably hear hundreds of new records every year, and have a perspective from which it's difficult to realize that a pop artist is either on the radio, making it big, or not. To leap the chasm from obscurity to fame, there is no promotion like radio. Come on, there is no promotion BUT radio. Let's face it, most people don't read. Music nuts don't read music publications. They don't even know they exist. I've auditioned musicians that haven't heard of any of my dozen latest favorites and who admit they don't even go to see shows. People listen to the radio in the background and gradually come to like whatever it's playing. This explains why someone bombarded with repetetive radio doesn't respond to my compilation tape, no matter how similar it is to what they already listen to. Hits are made, almost predesignated by the time radio gets involved. How do other kinds of promotion work? How does a pop act actually get to the radio? I don't know. I used to think there was a logical path that indie bands could follow. They play clubs, make a record, go on tour, accumulate press, and eventually get a big recording deal when their name is all over the underground and their appeal can no longer be denied. But aberrations abound. On a purely relative scale, Green Day wasn't much written or talked about. They seemed okay, but primitive and even anachronistic in style. They sold a few thousand records but remained a footnote. Then they seemed to be chosen for success, and without even changing what they do, their sales increased roughly 100,000% (just try conceiving of that). Good for them, but where were all those music fans before? How come 18-month old bands appear in Rolling Stone? Did they follow the long and arduous path to fame? As a pop fanatic, I'm sad that some of my favorite records are never written or talked about. I presume it's because they're on micro-indie labels without money for promotion. College radio seems to be saying, "the music itself is not enough. We're inundated with records and need direction from promotional sources to help us decide what we'll play." For instance, more attention is guaranteed to be paid to a record on Sub Pop than one that's on Sunday Driver. Sure, an act has to be talented, but it also has to be "chosen" at each successive career stage by people with the means to promote it. ---------- Over, Under, Sideways, and Down Matt Maxwell "In the spirit of this issue's focus on distribution, I want to testify, brothers and sisters! I want to testify as to how I was drawn into the world of 'that other stuff,' the music that you don't hear over in the polite salons of society, the music that has not received the stamp of approval from the high merchants of culture! I want others to hear my testimonial and know that they are not alone! That even a once-slave of AM radio can see the light, and hear the music from the other side!" I was going to continue along with that conceit, but decided that it was a little too much. Besides, I never went through a conversion experience when it came to music. There wasn't any single day that I looked at my record collection and decided that it should all be melted down and converted into 7" singles for some worthy band that nobody's ever heard of. Like a lot of things, it just sorta happened. And I won't bore you with long diversions about how high school was one barren wasteland punctuated with whatever made it worthwhile. Suffice it to say that only a handful of people ever appealed to me on any kind of level where I would talk with them after classes were over. Not surprisingly, they were the guys I had known since elementary school. I was mister whitebread suburban guy with above-average grades, who listened to whatever was on the AM radio (in the late seventies and early eighties, when there wasn't much of substance on either side of the dial) and didn't think much of it. Oh, sure, i'd buy the occasional ELO album (well, all of them, actually... I can say this and still retain my dignity, right?) because I liked one of their songs that I heard once ("Turn to Stone," in the almighty summer of '77, sandwiched between the Star Wars theme redone by Meco and some song by Molly Hatchet). Beyond that, I never really thought about it. I had all of five records to my name. I was hopeless. My radio never deviated from KFI-AM (though my sister had hers tuned to their rival, the evil Mighty 690). It was to be a lifetime of Barry Manilow and lite hits (with the odd nod to this stuff called "New Wave", which seemed to be comprised _in toto_ of "Whip It" and "Rock Lobster"). Give it up, man. Lost cause. I didn't even watch Saturday Night Live when it was cool. There were, however, my friends. One of them was an expatriate Englishman who had been raised in Canada before settling down behind the Orange Curtain. One of them had been raised in Germany. So, the two of them had something of an odd outlook when it came to music - odd to suburbanite me, anyways. They listened to this stuff by bands like the Kingbees and the Buzzcocks and the Sex Pistols and things like that. I never really understood it, but some of it was catchy enough (though it didn't match the cool synth effects on _Out of the Blue_). Some time passes. Another guy drifts into our "microclique," and he's really into the big rock thing that was all over the place in the early eighties. But he grooves on some of the stuff that we end up listening to - historians would call it punk, though purists would call it "precursors to hardcore". And it's not too long before he's really crazy into this stuff. Pretty soon, bands like X and Black Flag and the whole host of the SoCal DIY/Punk/Hardcore/whatever scene are parading through the upstairs room where we would sit around and listen to records after coming back from Tower in El Toro. Then a couple of things happened. One: KFI-640 wasn't cutting it anymore. Two: I got myself a turntable one Christmas. And while flipping through the dial one day, I heard something kinda intriguing. Loud, punchy rock type stuff that sounded pretty cool, English (and therefore still kinda exotic and strange... this is Orange County, CA, cut me some slack, okay?). Turns out that it was Elvis Costello doing "Peace Love and Understanding" on 91X (which at one time was a dinosaur rock station that made the jump to modern rock sometime in 1983.) I ended up getting the album that the song came from, and proceeded to play it to death while in my last year in high school. Perfect songs about teen angst, with a little dash of fascism thrown in for taste. But I was still little better off than I was before. I never bought a lot of that punk stuff, though I didn't mind it when it was on in the upstairs room where we did all our listening (likely to be followed by Pink Floyd's _Final Cut_ or something by the Scorpions in those days). And then one of my friends brought back this record called _Murmur_ by some band called R.E.M. I asked if they were from someplace like Australia, since i hadn't heard anything so murky or urgent before in my life, especially coming from the US. I was pretty much hooked from the getgo. (Say what you will about R.E.M. now, but the first handful of albums by them are still outstanding and I still pull them from the shelf from time to time.) By the time college rolled around, I was becoming a music snob and didn't even really know it. I'd already branched out to the edgy acid-punk of the Dream Syndicate and the etheral whispering of This Mortal Coil to a hundred others (even if it took a while to get that _Bad Moon Rising_ album by those Sonic Youth weirdos), again, thanks to repeated dousings by my once-stalwart-punk friend (about the only friend from high school that I have any regular contact with, and that says something). By the time I left college, i was well-versed in the local musical history (everything from the Minutemen to the melodic hardcore of Youth Brigade to the twitchings of the paisley underground - love that gratuitous name/scene dropping, eh?). This musical vocabulary in some ways defined a lot of my friends in college. Music was a kind of touchstone, a group of shared experiences. Even though many of my friends had grown up hundreds or thousands of miles apart, we were able to recognize that we were listening to the same wavelength. And let me tell you, when you're behind the Orange Curtain, you've got a lot of fratboys and jocks to wade through; it's reassuring to find another social misfit like yourself from time to time. Eclecticism became the name of the game, whether it was early Pink Floyd or the Blues Brothers (which led to a long infatuation with Atlantic/Stax soul/r&b) or the Butthole Surfers and Foetus, so long as it was distinctive and had perceived "quality" (subject for another wandering recollection), it was on the listening board. Many late night roadtrips, fueled by coffee and random tapes (never have the same artist twice, and keep some kind of thematic/atmospheric continuity) exposed me to a lot more music than I thought possible. Not just new stuff, but a lot of old stuff, from my father's time and before came to my ears, sounding as fresh and new as the day it was cut. By this time, music had become an entity unto itself. I knew enough about the other music, the stuff that HAD to be hunted down, to make a lot more strange selections, to push the limits further. I've noticed that a lot of people settle down after college, and I've done the same to a large extent. But not the music beast. And this is a good thing. I've made discoveries and had music thrust into my face that has expanded the base of choices that I might make. Take, for instance, Spacemen 3. Were it not for them (and the sources that they appropriated/ripped off - depending on how charitable I'm feeling), I wouldn't be listening to a lot of stuff that shows up in my collection now. (Exception: i really just can't get into the Stooges. Maybe it's over my head.) But now I'm to the point where I'm actively reading what I can in fan circles (both 'mainstream' and 'independent') about music. This is good to get some kind of sense of the history and dynamic of what you're listening to, but not always the best way to make your choices (what is it with everyone slavering over Shellac? I don't get it). The indie world is just as wracked by flavor o' the month syndrome as the real world, and bullshit filters still need to be kept in place. Music, now that I look back at my exposure to it, has largely been a social thing. And not social as in "hey, that guy's a hessian," or "gee, your hair is awfully long, are you a doom-rocker?" but that in some ways it was a glue between myself and the small circle of friends I had. I tend not to buy a record on the recommendation of a faceless reviewer, or even reviewers that I recognize and sometimes agree with. However, I will drop cash on the recommendations of a handful of friends, especially if more than one of them mentions it. And I'm happy to say that I've made some discoveries that I've been able to pass along to other friends. It is a two-way street, after all. One other factor does come into play these days. It's the reason that you're reading these words right now. Not this mailing list specifically, but the Internet in general. Usenet, to some extent, makes for interesting reading on various subjects (though it really is a better experiment in human behavior). Mailing lists are where the real action is, though. I've started a few in the last couple of years, mostly so that I could get people together talking about music (duh) and sharing what they know (though the bullshit filter and flavor of the month comments apply here just as much as any other media... except when the folks pushing the flavor are right.) Of course, there have been all kinds of unforseen results of this, one of them being direct contact with a lot of folks in various facets of the industry (which, god help me, I'm being sucked into). This gives me a new perspective on a lot of what I listened to. Talk to someone who has been in the independent side of things for more than twenty years, and you're likely to be pointed in a bunch of directions in terms of music. You will never have free cash again. And I've made a couple of friends along the way (via mailing lists, etc.), all of whom are more than happy to bombard me with suggestions as to what I should spend that twenty bucks on (Dadamah or Bailter Space?) or say "You like Band X, well, here's the guys that they stole their sound from," and that can take you down a completely different avenue. Promotion for me is word of mouth. I flip through a lot of magazines, but the ads are useless (though sometimes you get a great example of inspired design) in terms of making your imformed music purchase. The only thing that I can get from a print ad is notification that a particular album is out. That's about it. I have been known to tune into emptyvee from time to time, but i can't remember the last video that made me buy an album. Sometimes I hear something on the radio that's interesting, but I tend not to stay on any given station for any longer than it takes for them to run a commercial break. I don't really care about big or small labels (while observing that a lot more interesting music happens to come out on smaller labels these days) or about whether they have a billion dollar ad/tour campaign behind them - sorry, but the new Pink Floyd is still _boring_, and REM puts out some cool singles but hasn't done a great album in years. What matters to me is whether I can pick out something individual, or honest, or at least get a "goddamn, that's a great song" out of it. Not all the promotion in the world can convince me that a piece of shit doesn't stink, or that a piece of gold does not shine (though between you and me and the four walls, my friends haven't always been right, either.) ---------- From the "Sound of Young Scotland" to the NFL Today and the House of Style... Sean Murphy Thinking about promotions, I wandered in a few directions at first. I thought back to Indie-List battles over the esteemed Beck and the feverish promotional push he got when "Loser" first broke, to the scads of shitty CD singles clogging the arteries of college music directors searching for good music in the mail, and finally to the oddest piece of promotion I've seen in some time - Edwyn Collins. Mind you, I'm not about to knock Orange Juice, or Edwyn's new LP, _Gorgeous George_, released in the US on Bar/None, UK on Setanta. I like the LP, I think it's a really interesting inspection of musical styles, and I don't think anyone will buy it... not when they can hear their big hit song on the _Empire Records_ soundtrack or some cassingle. That big hit? "A Girl Like You," the second song on the LP, a song which takes 60s soul/pop and 70s guitars and weds them in the 90s. It's a great song, it fits well on the album, and I HEAR IT EVERYWHERE! On "alternative" radio, as background for NFL Today highlight films, as background on MTV's House of Style, as its own feature video (slugged as appearing on the _Empire Records_ soundtrack, a movie which came and went faster than the time it takes to listen to all of "Gorgeous George"). The question quickly becomes - who the hell picked that song to be a big hit? Who decided that one song would become part of a movie soundtrack and sampled out to the networks? I guess it's some part of the promotional beast that used to forcefeed me with Beck CD singles and novelty 10"s and whatever else it could get its grimy hands on. ("Loser" was entertaining in its stupidity, but I'd prefer to listen to Bob Dylan directly, thanks.) The worst part of it - Bar/None and Setanta can't really be profitting from this - people aren't looking for the whole LP just 'cause of one song. I hope Edwyn holds the publishing rights to his songs... he'll get something before the wave subsides, between the synchs and mechanicals and publishing... I certainly wish no ill will upon Edwyn Collins... far from it. I just can't understand the world which grabs his one little song but ignores everything else associated with that song. In some ways, that makes this situation worse than Beck, who eventually exerted control over the hype machine by withdrawing from it... ---------- please pass the butter, mr. buntley. dann medin Promotions generate so many possibilities to focus on that IÕm left indefinite & clueless as to which part to write about (especially when expending a certain amount of effort in trying to say something that hasnt been said a thousand times before). I'm sure that if I went back & leafed through the last 7 or so articles I've written, it would be entirely possible to edit & reword an array of different personal opinions on the various facets of promoting (I remember both the "radio" & "punk" volumes at the least). The summer I spent working a music director slot at the radio station gave me a corporate perspective of promotions that I had always known (re: we are a business) but never experienced. I've spent a few years doing various projects (radio, zine, putting on shows, indie-list, etc.) on a volunteer basis which has run on primarily two roots of motivation: one being music meaning enough to me to do more for it than individual financial support (like going to a show by myself or buying a cd); the other in response to the assumption that there are others in the world that feel likewise towards music and would be as appreciative about being exposed to new bands they'd like as I am. The basic surface level is just as significant (though perhaps more obvious). Putting on a show gives me a chance to see (often, not always) a band that I'd want to see anyways. Despite preliminary stress & consumption of time that such an activity requires, when, for instance, syrup u.s.a. or ida was playing a few weeks ago (the women in indie music fest thing I worked on), such frustrations typically dissolve and the additional effort generates some satisfacton. Besides, who would have heard of Falco if it wasn't for us peons slaving our hearts away for so many years? ---------- What does it all mean? Russell Hall The thing that I wonder about, as my fingers freeze to my staple gun at the hundredth telephone pole in a row, is whether postering for a show does any good. You gotta wonder how much influence some stupid flyer on a kiosk exerts on the punters in this town. After all, you can just open the damn Isthmus [or your town's favorite free/cheap alternative weekly] on Thursday. I suspect that postering for a single show has very little direct correlation with the turnout at the club. I'd say an Isthmus Critic's Choice goes a helluva lot further. Not that inclusion in those hallowed columns means youÕre anything to write home about. (Well... maybe -- "Dear Mom, I saw an appallingly bad band last night... love, jr.") Actually, I did see an appallingly bad band last night. I never cease to be amazed at the effluence that passes for music in this town. Don't get me wrong; I can name half a dozen bands worth spending your hard-earned beans on. It's just that you got to discriminate. (I took this off my web page: http://www.ssec.wisc.edu/~russellh/lbpage.html, which in turn came from a column I wrote for a little Madison, WI music rag.) ---------- Promotion, or something. Jodi Shapiro Back when I was a young'un, the only "promotion" punk rock records got was my stoner cousin Scott's approval. He was older, weirder and cooler than anyone I knew and that was all the convincing I needed. This article isn't really about punk records, though, it's about promoting punk rock shows. Now, I'm no expert on the subject, but I have had some experience doing just that; albeit in two very different situations. The first was when I went to college in Albany, NY. Working at the radio station meant having a hand in booking the musical acts that played on campus. It wasn't because we were that powerful, it was merely because radio staffers were the only people interested in taking on the challenge of finding and booking bands. The biggest show I was involved with was booking the "Amok in America" tour of Mojo Nixon, Cavedogs and the Dead Milkmen. At the time I liked 2/3 of the bill quite a lot, and was more than happy to spend many late nights making posters, carts and generally spreading the word to other area schools. Money was abundant and we actually had enough to buy the bands dinner and beverages. Everything seemed easy with these type of shows because *somebody else* was always paying. I recently made the foray into "real" show promotion, and had a blast doing it. The bands involved were three acts I felt really strongly about (still do), and thought that I could make their New York stop an enjoyable one, not one to be dreaded. Two of the bands had been here previously; one had experienced *two* awful shows (low attendance, late starts) and the other had been ripped off at their last show. The third had never been to NYC before. With all of this "history" (for want of a better word), I felt a little bit of self-imposed pressure to make this one as fault-free as possible. It wasn't as easy as I thought it would be: the single biggest problem was finding a suitable venue. Nothing was as cheap as I would have liked; and once I found a place that was big enough, the costs started to accumulate. Besides rental, the PA was going to cost $200 extra, plus I had to pay a guy to run it. Since I had never done a show where I had to hire outside help, I wasn't sure if this was a fair price or not. To top it off, the venue wanted to take a percentage of the door money. I wasn't too happy with this, but I was too chicken to say anything. I was also too chicken to tell the bands involved that I really didn't feel like risking my own money for this. Thankfully, in the throes of my cowardice, another venue offered to host the show at a price 1/3 of the other venue. I jumped at it, and the biggest hurdle was dealt with. The smaller amount of "risk" money made me feel a lot better. It was to come out of the door money, so technically it wasn't a risk for me, which made me a little less nervous. Before I go further, I'd like to say that this policy seems to be one adopted by a lot of venues. I find it encouraging because it allows people like me who have little or no cash to put up a little leeway. When I first offered/was asked to do this (it was a little of both), I wasn't sure that it would go off as smoothly as I had planned. One of the bands involved are dear friends of mine and I really wanted them to have a good show. The other two are people I respect and admire, and I didn't want to screw up. Members of all the bands were very helpful, gave me advice and were very patient. I think that this, above all else, was the key to the show's success. So here's what I learned from my experience; I hope passing it on to you will encourage some of you to put on shows of your own someday (or help those of you who already do to have more success in the future). 1. Have a good rapport with the bands. This is probably the most crucial thing, because if you can't deal with them on a friendly level, business is going to be a strain. In effect, these people are _hiring_ you to make sure their show goes well. Make yourself available to them. Find out when it's convenient to discuss business. Be as accommodating as you can under your circumstances. 2. Ask lots of questions. Of everyone involved. One of the first things I asked was the specific power needs of the bands, because I know that they like to play loud and that their past PA systems weren't up to snuff. If someone you're dealing with (whether they're a band member, venue person or sound guy) doesn't like to answer your questions, or discourages them, then talk to someone else who will. It's better to ask a "stupid" question then to be surprised on the night of the show when the sound guy asks for $300. 3. Keep everyone involved abreast of the situation. You don't have to call them every day, but once every so often is a good idea. That way, if problems do arise, you'll be prepared, or at least aware of the possibilities that might happen (such as, "we like to sleep late, so missing soundcheck is a possibility"). 4. Be as helpful as you can in terms of travel. This means give the clearest directions to your show as you can, and maybe a route to the next town if possible. 5. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. I was a little too nervous to really enjoy my show until the very end, about midway through the last band's set. I figured that nothing could ruin it then. Some of this may sound really obvious, but when you're caught up in all the excitement it's easy to forget the details. ---------- Why bother? Steve Silverstein This was conceived as a story about how one person (an eccentric and talkative one, of course) can cause an entire city (albeit Providence, a small one) to discuss and see a band (they were called The Golden Touch, and didn't exist for very long, but do have a solid though unamazingly-recorded 7" on Load Records) that he'd seen at a party. But, since moving to Chicago, I've realized that this is really not very interesting to people living in big cities, who can't understand living in a place where people actually know and even want to talk to one another! So, it will instead be a series of disconnected thoughts about publicity. The first point I wanted to make is how publicity has to be geared to an audience. In Providence, it seemed the object with an indie show was just to make the people who typically go to indie shows aware that the show was happening. But, in Chicago, this is clearly not the case. Reasons, as far as I can see: first, college students who would go to such shows are at U. of Chicago or Northwestern, neither of which is particularly accessible to the relevant clubs without a car. Second, the Lounge Ax and Empty Bottle are 21+, meaning a lot of college students can't easily get into shows. After this it gets kind of complicated. A lot of people (musicians, people with music-related jobs) seem to get in for free; while it happened in Providence, I think it happens even more in Chicago. Also, since there are a lot more shows, the indie community, while bigger, gets a lot more dispersed and don't all show up in force at any one show the way this would obviously happen in Providence. So, the clubs need to draw someone who will pay. This leaves two groups. The general public seem, for reasons I've yet to learn, to show up like lemmings at shows which receive critical praise in the local press. Yet clubs have to cater to this process in order to make money. The second crowd is in some ways worse. I don't know how the "hipsters" hear about shows, because it doesn't seem to have as clear a source as the press, but it's pretty reliable that certain shows will pull them in large numbers. I haven't really lived here long enough to fully understand this process, except knowing that certain shows, which I can sometimes predict in advance, will result in rooms full of well-dressed people who smoke a lot and stand right near the stage and really work hard at looking like they're excited about the band playing. If anyone wants to help explain this process, and why it happens in Chicago but not in Providence, feel free. In all, it's a really frustrating situation, which results in many (most?) shows either being overpopulated with people who are hopefully only apathetic (not antipathetic) about the band and (in many cases) talk through their set, or shows that have almost no one there and even fewer paid. Both are pretty bad atmospheres to see shows. The worst part of the process, though, is that it drives clubs to need to produce the former, resulting in a pretty awful circle of hype. The better questions, though, are why does this happen, and is there hope? I think the answer to the first question is, again, sadly, publicity. When you have people like Bill Wyman, whose basic tone of his writing is "I know these people and you don't", it makes people feel excluded. When you have such a clearly defined and highly publicized (by people like Bill Wyman, even when they're being critical) set of insiders, it makes everyone else feel like an outsider. In smaller cities, it's much easier for the friendliness of the creative and productive people bring new folks in. In Chicago, there are so many outsiders, and so many people who want to keep them outsiders (for many, many reasons) that it results in this awful dichotomy. I feel like I'm on the inside (sort of), and while it beats being on the outside, I still find a real wall around myself that's kind of painful. And I really don't know what to do about it. Maybe there's a way to use publicity, in a city so dependent on much more formal publicity and not just word of mouth, to get around it. But, I don't really know how. The second question I want to address is the notion of publicizing a record or tape or CD. The most obvious way people try to gain publicity is, of course, giving away free copies. The questions again are numerous. The biggest one, I guess, is who do you give the release to? Labels whom you want to put out future releases? Press? Radio? Friends? What sort of hype do you seek, and with whom? Why? Are you trying to sell a lot of copies of this record, build a long-term following, or locate someone else who is willing to do work that you're too lazy/inept to do? Why? Why do you want a following? To make friends? To get rich? To look important? To feel famous? To have a big press kit ("my press kit is bigger than your press kit")? To seem cool to your friends by having something to give them for free? In reality, I don't think most people think about these questions before sending away free copies of things. Or before releasing things. Why release a record at all? Why charge money for things? Why not just copy tapes and give them away? It ain't expensive to do. Do musicians have a right to make money off of their music? To even charge anything? If so, who should they or shouldn't they charge money, and why? I guess, in the end, people seek "publicity" through all of these ways, but again, to what end? No, I'm not arguing against any of these practices, so much as asking a question few people ask: Why? And I thought my last piece was cynical... =============================== Coursing Through The Wires... =============================== Dave here at malathion risk headquarters: o ass ponys - mr. superlove - re-issue of 1st lp o moviola - frantic 10" - as twisted as anything the west coast has turned out, but from columbus, ohio o the apples - fun trick noisemaker - pure psych-pop just how i like 'em o billie holiday - music for torching with... - THE soundtrack for depression o the silly pillows - up in the air - the coolest bedroom pop finally made available for the masses o radiolaria, live and ep - the most fun band i've seen since i made the move from Green Bay to Cincinnati. i'm gonna miss em when i move to Chicago. o chris knox - songs of you and me - i should have listed this first!!! ---------- Mark Cornick : o Sonic Youth, "Washing Machine" - the song, not the album; I don't have the album yet (DGC) o Foetus, _Gash_ (Sony... yep, Foetus on a major label... nothing shocks me any more) o David S. Ware Quartet, _Cryptology_ (Homestead) o Various Artists, _Just Another Asshole #5_ (Atavistic reissue) o June Of 44, _Engine Takes To The Water_ (T&G) o Dirty Three, _Dirty Three_ (T&G) o Negativland, "Car Bomb" - don't ask why, I don't know (originally on some evil label which shall remain nameless, though its initials are "s-s-t"...) o old Krapper Keeper stuff on tape given to me by a friend. I think this stuff was originally released on the fine WiffleFist label. In any case, I think I just like the name. ---------- Sean Murphy : o driving - 3600+ miles in under 10 days, no co-pilot, still a total blast o Brian Wilson's production skills o excerpts and loops of songs which use pet words in the lyrics (dogs, cats, bunnies, etc.) o Long Fin Killie, _Houdini_ (Too Pure) - burbles with a dark intensity, and having a guest appearance by Mark E. Smith can't hurt anyone o Spacemen 3, _Singles_ (Taang!/Fire) - for all the fucked up children of the world who didn't find the 12"s or the bonus tracks on import CDs o Dirty Three live at Lounge Ax, Chicago, IL o Modelo Negro - made by the same brewery as lame-ass Corona piss-water, but it's actually a damn good beer o developing a completely Hegelian (dialectic) theory of existence at my workplace, coupled with spurious references to mindless collectives (like the Borg) - not necessarily "fun" but often "necessary for basic survival" o rediscovering old mix tapes and remembering how certain songs used to affect me in ways they no longer can, through no fault of my own o Spike, my wonderful gray-and-white cat-sized-kitten ---------- Dann Medinn : happiness (circa charles schultz) has been... o drinking a 40 of old english & jumping up & down on the bouncing sculpture w/jo o curbstone press & some of the outstanding books they produce (jack agueros's "dominoes & other stories of the puerto rican," claribel alegria's "luisa in realityland," & edger silex's "through all the displacements" being a few of them) o quitting a job o evenings of relaxing w/friends, smoking & listening to music o unwound live for half a week o secret stars tapes & 7" o crank! a recording company records o archers of loaf, syrup usa, ida, rex, pitchblende in recent shows o the karate song ("cherry coke") on their split single w/crown hate ruin o seeing long distance friends o eating bad food (like cool ranch doritos) w/josh o garden of light (based somewhere near hartford)'s greek salads topped w/annie's goddess dressing o stickers o playing spit (the card game) drunk o albums by elliott smith, ravi shankar, yusef lateef, & anything w/eric dolphy on it o reading bell hooks & elizabeth spelman o autumn leaves all over new england ---------- Jodi Shapiro : o Tarnation _Gentle Creatures_ CD: Has the same feeling as those Patsy Cline records, or that Ricky Nelson song that they used in the Pepsi commercial (I forget the name). Not a tearjerker like Palace or AMC, but just as moving. Especially "Yellow Birds". o Eric Matthews _It's Heavy In Here_: Another quiet and beautiful album. Sometimes you just want to hear something nice, and this does the job more than adequately. o Kai's Power Tools 2.1 and 3.0: The reason I stay up until 4 AM playing with Photoshop. o _Young Men and Fire_ by Norman MacLean: He also wrote _A River Runs Through It and Other Stories_, but this is a much better example of his clear and concise literary style. This is in the curriculum I teach my Intro to Lit. class, and for good reason: some people find historical narrative boring, but the story here is so riveting that it doesn't seem like you're reading a "school" book. It's about the kind of heroes you don't see much of anymore. What does that tell you about American society? Quiz on Monday. ---------- Steve Silverstein : I had no exciting thoughts for coursing this month, so I figured be boring and list what I've been listening to (like in Chicago's fine zines Wind Up [Frat-Boy Mutilator] and the Ajax mail-order catalog--yes, I do like both of these, and I'm not being sarcastic here). 20 records in alphabetical order, full-lengths unless noted otherwise... o The American Breed--Bend Me, Shape Me (Acta, 1967) o B. Flower--Strings 7" (Sugarfrost, 1994) o The Band--Music from Big Pink (Capitol, 1968) o Bugskull--Phantasies and Senseitions (Road Cone, 1995) o Bush League All-Stars--Old Numbers (Pop Narcotic, 1995) o D. A. F.--Die Kleinen und Die Bosen (Mute, 1980) o dis- --Nicolae 7Ó (South East, 1993) o Eno--Here Come the Warm Jets (Editions EG, 1973) o Fugazi--Red Medicine (Dischord, 1995) o Grifters--Stream 7" (Derivative, 1995) o The Jayhawks--My Only Darling 7" (Flash, 1956) o Labradford--A Stable Reference (Kranky, 1995) o Love--Forever Changes (Elektra, 1968) o Martha and the Muffins--This is the Ice Age (Dindisc, 1981) o The Make-Up/The Meta-Matics split 7" (Gemini Star, 1995) o The Meters--Funky Miracle (Charly, 1991 re-issue double CD) o the Mountain Goats and Alistair Galbraith--Orange Raja, Blood Royal 7" (Walt, 1995) o O. M. D.--Dazzle Ships (Virgin, 1983) o James White and the Blacks--Off White (Ze, 1979) o The Who--The Who By Numbers (MCA, 1975) ================= In Closing... ================= Thanks to all who offered their hospitality and friendship during my psychotic road trip, especially those with floor-space and/or couches - Anne and Eric, Liz, and Reb. 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