The other week I picked up DragonForce’s Ultra Beatdown on vinyl, and am not going to use the free mp3 download code.  If you’d like to, please contact me via email or comment.  First responder gets the album – enjoy! -h

This past week I’ve picked up the Listening Project series (pt.1 – pt. 2 – pt. 3 – pt. 4 – pt. 5 – pt. 6); to mark MFR’s fifth birthday in September 2009 (!), I’ve been listening to every release in order, making notes as I go.  It may be for the best that some time has passed between these more recent releases and listening back to them.

MFR028 – Drive-By Honky – Double Live Platinum

• The opportunity to re-release Double Live Platinum just kind of popped up in conversation between Cory and Dan Jenkins of DBH/Ideal Cleaners… I don’t really know much else about how it happened, except I suspect-slash-hope that the MFR re-release was part of the inspiration for Dan to do the excellent thebandbrokeup.com
• When we started working on this release, the only DBH I had was Thrift Americana, so I was happy to hear the tuffer riffs of Double Live Platinum pointing toward Ideal Cleaners’ sound
• “The Divine Butcher” (AKA “Loser by miles”) – Just sayin’!

MFR029 – M/S Ride – There is Something and not nothing

• First off, I’m incredibly proud of Matt for doing this record with me and for his drumming, and of the songs themselves
• The earliest seeds for not nothing were a couple of ideas (like the verse riff and chorus chords/melody/lyrics for “Heart Stops Beating”) that had hanging around for years (since 2003 or ’04), coupled with some Five Star Crush demos I wrote with Matt while the relationship with Joel was strained (and/or he was in Georgia), and we were working on new material separately by design. As I became attached to my vision for some of the songs, and it looked less and less likely that they would make it as 5*C songs (or that 5*C would make new songs at all), it came clear that I had a record on my hands
• The theme is the cross-pollination of existential crisis and questions of the meaning of meaning with my take on 80s dance music, sort of Depeche Mode stuff.  At one point I wanted to produce physical CDs through CafePress, and the inside cover was to contain these quotes, which provide some context for the record.  I had thought I’d put them on the release page, but it doesn’t look like I did.

“Science questions the common assumptions which seem to be true to everyone, to the layman as well as to the average scholar. Then the genius comes and asks for the basis of these accepted assumptions; when they are proved not to be true, an earthquake in science occurs out of the depth. Such earthquakes occurred when Copernicus asked if our sense-impressions could be the ground of astronomy, and when Einstein questioned whether there is an absolute point from which the observer could look at the motions of things. An earthquake occurred when Marx questioned the existence of an intellectual and moral history independent of its economic and social basis. It occurred in the most eruptive way when the first philosophers questioned what everybody had taken for granted from times immemorial — being itself.

“When they became conscious of the astonishing fact, underlying all facts, that there is something and not nothing, an unsurpassable depth of thought was reached.”

— Paul Tillich, from “The Shaking of the Foundations”
Chapter 7, The Depth of Existence

“Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, 0 Lord.”
— Psalm 130:1

• A rubbing of the front door and sanctuary door handles at St. Peter’s provided the main cover image. I thought it looked kind of metal with the upside-down cross, but it’s actually the sign of Saint Peter (who, according to the story, was crucified upside-down because he insisted he wasn’t fit to die in the same manner as Jesus)
• I have the first acoustic demos for “Deft” and “Can U Feel It?” somewhere in the studio. “Deft” was written in one sitting, music and lyrics (which is unusual for me), and I did the demo right then. It even has a vocal drum fill in the bridge. Co-writing credit to Joel on “Can U Feel It?” It was a jam we played once at practice, and always stuck with me; I eventually had to do *something* with the idea. The verse of “Yr Right” is a twisted-up inversion of something much poppier Danny played once at practice, too.
• Unintentionally (except for the bridge), “Deft” bears a resemblance to one of my favorite songs, U2’s “Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill Me.” It’s not the same or anything, just working with a similar palette of chords and intervals.
• This ended up being a pretty fully-realized album – it is, and does, what I meant it to be and do – with some of my most fully-realized songs as well (“Deft,” “Out,” “The Biggest Choice You Make,” “Seven”)
• Really fun to play bass all over this record, and it’s the first album I’ve done a lot of bass. Thanks again, Jill, for letting me borrow your bass! (The line on “Yr Right” is what reminded me to mention how enjoyable bass playing is.)
• Also the first time I’ve used a lot of vocal effects; echo, and distortion. Vocal echo is a Joel thing, and distortion is more Drew. Which reminds me; Matt and I cut the drums for “There is Something and not nothing” at the same time we recorded the base drum and rhythm guitar tracks for Mars Lights’ Sides 1, 2, and 3.
• “The Biggest Choice You Make” was a song I wrote top-to-bottom for Five Star Crush, and just couldn’t ever get the band interested enough in to work on. “Miami” was another where I took an instrumental jam from practice, finished it, and tried to bring it back in with no luck. If I could choose, they’d have been 5*C and not Sally M/S Ride songs, but that doesn’t diminish how I feel about “There is Something and not nothing”
• “Turning the Wheel” is one of the four seals of dharma songs on the record – one song for each seal – the others being “Heart Stops Beating,” “Seven,” and… (thinking…)
• Listening to “Can U Feel It?” reminds me how much this album deals in so many ways with the loss of faith, but also the persistence of something almost deeper than faith… something like the animating spirit of faith, if that’s a thing. It’s a bleak hopefulness, but it’s not nothing.

MFR030 – White Air – White Air

• I don’t remember quite how Greg’s first record as White Air came to MFR. Maybe Cory recommended me to him for mastering, and in the course of doing that the MFR release format came up
• This was a tricky mastering job, but it came out nicely. As you can tell from listening, the songs are all over in terms of instrumentation and intensity of the performances, so it just took a while to nudge everything into the same sonic space. “Endure” was a bear
• Love the demented children’s choir backing vocals
• I think I had a big hand in determining the track listing, so if it doesn’t work for you, please send blame this direction
• “Terrible Truth” was the first rough mix Greg sent to me to check out when we were first talking about collaborating, and I dug it immediately. When I got the whole record, it took a few listens to adjust to it all – the funk of “Am I Getting Through To You,” the weirdo-Neil Young-ness of “Making Out Like A Bandit” – which is one of the points of the record, I think
• “You’re happier than happy should be / You’re too happy to be happy here with me” is a great line

MFR031 – Songwriter Power Rangers on KZUM

• SWPR was a show series Cory helped curate for a year or two, and these tunes are from a live radio session the four artists performed on KZUM to promote the shows. (The whole Hardy Holm “Alive in Lincoln” show is available on the release post – the interviews are pretty funny)
• I’m honored – truly, that’s the right word – to have the great Manny Coon (what a songwriter!), Ember Schrag (what a performer, and contributor to the Lincoln scene!), and Lori Allison (what emotional resonance, and Millions member to boot!) on MFR
• Thanks to Hardy for hosting the show, and extra thanks to Cory for making sure we got a board recording from the studio
• I think this was one of Cory’s first performances with his (then-) new guitar
• We cobbled the cover together from several different SWPR show posters
• Seriously; Manny. “Your Momma Called.” Damn!

MFR032 – Panda Face – Panda Face

• Brandon’s music came to MFR via Greg/White Air (they’re both in Strawberry Burns) fully formed; I didn’t even master this (or his second album, either). It’s exactly as we received it
• Oh – I did add the blue background to the cover, at Brandon’s request
• Panda Face reminds me most of the BLANE stuff, but I’ve never asked Brandon about the development between the two projects, or why these songs called for a new name
• My key to the Panda Face aesthetic is the gulf-sized contrast between the computer-based instrument sounds and production and the very human vocals
• Listening back, I’m getting more and more into this. Maybe I’m slow, or maybe it’s aged better than I expected, or maybe I was overwhelmed a little at first. I’m upping the rating in iTunes song-by-song as I go along

I was working out earlier tonight, and had a couple egoless minutes thinking about meaning. (In retrospect, they were prompted by thinking about the claymation holiday episode of Community that I caught earlier. It ends with a line something like “The meaning of Christmas is the idea that Christmas has meaning, and is meaningful because we say it is,” and I’m still thinking about whether there’s even a claim hidden in there.)

The phrase “the circle of life” came to mind (with its inescapable Lion King associations – hey, I was drifting, here!) from an image of CA and I and a kid or two having a farewell-to-KC party, Jody was there (I guess I saw her earlier tonight at the food pantry), and I thought “Well, an actual circle of life is kind of bleak – we’re doomed to repeat the past and all – but life isn’t really like that; it’s a spiral of life, with its implications of a direction to history and “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time” (T S Eliot). From that image, I’ve come, for tonight, at least, to the thought that life’s meaning might be what we can do, and know, and be, that our grandparents couldn’t but wanted to, and what our grandchildren will, that we want to.

Then, in the shower, I was thinking about a conversation I had with CA a couple weeks ago, trying to explain what makes Wooden Shjips awesome. How do you explain, to someone who hasn’t felt it yet, how good ten minutes of a single psych rock riff with weirdo echo soloing and a few vocals can be? I was trying to describe how you can’t approach psych or drone music with the same expectations and critical apparatus as you would art music and get an experience that comes anywhere close to the music’s potential. She wasn’t buying it. (Yet.)

I was also thinking about The Roots’ new undun, and how I feel sure somebody, somewhere, is up in arms because its a concept album that tells a story; in some circles this is taken as self-evidently pretentious and indulgent, but I think the album is fighting trim and shows remarkable restraint and self-editing at nine songs, plus an intro and outro.

The fresh insight was in realizing how important it is to me as a listener and critic to approach music on its own terms as much as possible; I think maybe much more than most other people, such as CA in the example here. Yes, there’s also history, various canons, and a whole universe of other music to relate it to, but there should always be dialogue between what a work sets out to accomplish for itself, and its relationship with other works. (And yes, I grok that “what a work sets out to accomplish for itself” is a matter to be debated; that’s fine; simply that we’re having the debate at all carries the weight I need it to carry here.)

The point here isn’t to be heady for headiness’ sake; it’s that the best way to enjoy and get the most out of a work is to focus on experiencing it on its own terms, and letting all those relationships be secondary. I’ve said many times – without convincing many people – that I may actually be a hedonist at heart; I’m just serious about finding the most pleasure in every little thing.

Jake points me to Derek Webb’s “Giving It Away,” on how free-ish music makes good economic sense for Webb.  (I say free-ish, because Webb asks for your email address, and that of a few of your friends.)  In contrast, Ian McKaye (Fugazi) was interviewed on Pitchfork this week, talking about his band’s new live archive and why they’re recommending listeners pay $5 per show downloaded.

I buy the reasoning each artist makes for his own choice.  I’m wary of Webb’s implication – he doesn’t say it, but I read it between the lines (I could be wrong!) – that his choice is best for all, or the vast majority, of musicians.  He has a lot going for him: he’s using his own model with some success, he’s built the infrastructure for others to use it too (Noisetrade), and makes good points.

However, in his zeal for giving music away (not a bad thing!), I think the real point of both artists is lost; the relationships among artists, their recordings, listeners, listeners’ contact information, and money, have been completely shaken by the web, and the prevailing assumptions that have held since the invention of the phonograph are no longer valid.  Each artist now has to negotiate this terrain in a way that works for them and their listeners, and they’re going to do it differently.  Some will trade money for recordings, some will trade information, and some will just put out music and not worry about it, because they’re not trying to be middle-class musicians (in Webb’s terms).

As I think about MFR’s future, I’m looking much harder at Bandcamp than Noisetrade, based on The Sleepover’s experience, my own willingness to gladly pay a few dollars for an album download, and an idea I have for downloads that I haven’t seen done before.  (Not sure if Bandcamp will support it tech-wise.)

It will be interesting to see if one major “filter” emerges for digital music.  Mobile phone apps might be an indicator here; that field is dominated by the Apple app store and Droid marketplace, along with a healthy underground of other alternatives.  That hasn’t emerged in music yet.  The iTunes store just isn’t that ubiquitous, Amazon does some mp3 business (which I prefer; no DRM), Bandcamp is pretty indie/DIY, Spotify is slowly emerging in the US, but none of them have the market share of the two big app distribution sources.  There’s also piracy to contend with.

There might even be an opportunity here for an info-savvy entrepreneur to develop a meta-filter of sorts, combining streaming and purchasing data from all of these sources into a resource that does the job the Billboard charts used to do.  What we’re after is a bottom-up way to find the best music, which is what radio and the sales charts used to do in more of a top-down manner (the charts being largely based on what was playing on the radio).  The meta-filter might simply provide information and links to streaming/purchasing sources, or it might become a service or store of its own, perhaps even becoming the dominant filter in music; the New Radio.  With the web, there will always be healthy underground, out-of-the-mainstream activity (I hope!), but the curator in me would like to see, and be a part of, something that starts to tie back together the music scene that the web has fractured in a way that’s good for all involved.

Christopher Borrelli, “The trouble with the cloud,” in the Chicago Tribune.

Mom clipped this for me, and Borrelli asks a good quesion; how are iTunes, iPods, and now iCloud and Amazon’s and Google’s cloud-based music lockers changing how we value music?

Borrelli’s concerned that we value digital files less than physical albums. “Each [new digital technology] has undermined how much I actually care about watching, listening and reading … Lately, though I am no less interested in music, excited by movies or anxious to read books, I don’t know what that enthusiasm means when I can access all of those things on a few digital files: Do I appreciate my music, movies and books less when the format is digital? When there’s nothing more concrete than a binary code? If I’ve opted for convenience over shelf space, why don’t I listen to music more often, watch more movies?”

Only Borrelli can answer why he listens to less music than he used to. I listen to much more, and a wider variety, of music since I went fully to iTunes and my iPod. I love using iTunes DJ, making playlists, and running across old favorites, all things I didn’t do with CDs. I also get a huge kick out of digitizing my vinyl LPs, taking that great sound with me on my iPod, crackles and all.

“Ephemeral, that’s how I feel about the media I download … The ease of that download generally lessens its impact and makes it more disposable … ‘Something about the unavailability of stuff, music, art, books, makes me value it more’ [quoting Theaster Gates].” Quoting Gates again, “It’s just fraudulent for people to suggest that … any digital vehicles contain as much historical value or memory or meaning as my things, my books my music, whatever. It’s wrong to say my stuff is being replaced by a things I can’t touch. It isn’t being replaced, because it isn’t the same stuff anymore.”

Gates doesn’t offer a name of anyone who has suggested that digital files have the same historical value and meaning as his own physical books and albums. Perhaps they are in his imagination; it’s a pretty extreme position. It’s not a matter of intrinsically meaningful physical albums being replaced by evil, empty downloads; the questions are what are the tradeoffs between physical and digital music*, and how do we feel about what’s happening and the choices we’ve made? The burden of proof is on Borrelli to explain why so many people have made the choice to go digital that he’s concerned with.

In order to understand Borrelli, I think we should separate how we value objects from how we value music. Mom’s “Meet the Beatles” record means more to me, as a physical object, than someone else’s copy of the record would, but I value the music on the record, as music, the same no matter what source it’s played from. You could replace my “Meet the Beatles” mp3s with identitical copies from someone else’s hard drive, and the music wouldn’t mean any less to me next time I listen to it.

“My long-term fear, I suppose, is that my tastes become nothing more than a clickable line on a file; or as the novelist Zadie Smith wrote in a recent essay, about the way that Facebook undermines, ‘To (Mark) Zuckerberg, sharing your choices with everybody is being somebody.’”

Borrelli takes it as self-evident that his current tastes are something more valuable than a “clickable line on a file” (are they?) (and what kind of file is he grouching about, anyway?), and, I think, implies that sharing choices on Facebook is worthless. Sharing choices on facebook is generally less meaningful than loaning someone a physical copy of an album, but I think it’s worth *something.*

Maybe his fear is that, when everyone’s a critic, his tastes will have to compete on a more level playing field with others’ for attention, which might put him out of a job. In my view, good critics are more important now than ever before, to help us sort through the mountain of media available online. The trick is, having a column at the Tribune doesn’t automatically make someone an attention-worthy critic anymore (as it did before the web made self-publishing so easy); widely-read critics must earn their reputation for finding good media and adding to our understanding of it with their commentary, and they might come from anywhere, including Facebook. (Reputation development and management is an area where I’d like to see huge improvement on the web, but I think it’s coming. Amazon’s Real Name feature is an example of a first step in that direction.)

“The more availability there is, he said, the harder it is to find anything, digital or not, “which leads to the real problem with the Cloud, that there is a threshold to comprehension and you can only have a personal relationship with a certain number of your things anyway … To borrow from Susan Sontag’s 1977 book, ‘On Photography,’ and its prescient essay on collecting, we live in a world ‘on its way to becoming one vast quarry.’ And yet what is the value of a quarry with no bottom, inexhaustible and plundered without much effort and available for mining every day, at all hours?

“There was a time when Laurie Anderson … lamented not having recordings of her early shows … ‘Now I think I’m happy to be the medium myself, that people watch me doing whatever I do and it goes into their memories, and maybe gets lost in there.”

The meaning of physical objects is, in large part, based on scarcity. We like rare, hard-to-find, and one-of-a-kind things. There’s only one “Meet the Beatles” that was my mom’s, so it’s my favorite, but there are an unlimited number of copies available online. I love my copy of Elvis Presley’s self-titled record, because in all of my record hunting it’s the only one I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. Yet, apart from these kinds of heirlooms and boutique items, music is a microcosm of what may be coming for all physical objects, leading our way into a post-scarcity society, which will require a radical re-thinking of how we construct meaning.

Meaning will change, but i don’t think it will be lost. To use Borrelli’s metaphor, the value of an inexhaustible quarry seems obvious in musical terms; we can build anything we want, enjoy any kind of structure, experiment and play and push the boundaries of the art of sound. The value of any given stone is no longer much in its existence as a stone, but has become in what we’ve made with it, what we do there, and how we remember and continue to experience the place. The dimension of meaning that is reduced or lost in the transition to a post-scarcity context is real, but is worth trading for the new possibilities offered by digital music.

* Digital music is, of course, also physical – it’s not immaterial! – but I think you know what I mean.

…it begins. This morning, feeling inspired, I recorded new demos of all the songs for Ventura.  These are the scratch tracks I’ll start building the final recordings on, starting with drums.  So, six years later… we’re underway.  It will be a better record than I could have made six years ago, though; hard as it’s been not to have it out, I can see how it could be for the best, as the songs have continued to evolve.  -h