8Sided Blog

the scene celebrates itself

Bandcamp’s ‘Imperialism’

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There’s a solid profile of Bandcamp in The Guardian with insight into the company and its founder Ethan Diamond. The piece also features quotes from former Galaxie 500 drummer and present digital music critic Damon Krukowski about how an essential element of fandom is the exercising of agency:

The direct connection between fans, artists and labels, whether it’s leaving a positive review or paying an extra few pounds because it’s your favourite artist, is about “being an agent, rather than a passive participant,” [Krukowski] says. “When you have not surrendered your agency, it makes perfectly natural sense to think, ‘What can I do with that agency to take some action?'”

But then the piece strikes a strange note when it reaches for criticism of the Bandcamp platform. There’s so much love for the service — especially right now — that it was probably tough to find someone to give a negative quote or two. In the end, it’s an unnamed ambient artist (not sure if anonymity is warranted here but okay) and his comments are head-scratchers: 

“As a non-American,” he says in an email, “I object to the idea that my music is used by Bandcamp to push what are essentially American political messages, regardless of whether I agree with the spirit of the message. I view it as a form of American cultural imperialism that is ignorant of the international user base.”

I believe it’s a desirable quality for a company to focus concern on where it’s based. It shows that, for one thing, you’re not dealing with a global behemoth (or one currently with those aspirations). And we’re also getting the voice (and, sure, brand) of the people in charge — they’re addressing problems affecting them and their community. Oakland is Bandcamp’s home, and Diamond has Oakland (and American) concerns. I consider that a feature, not a bug.

Many artists donated their Bandcamp sales to charitable causes on June 5th and June 19th. It was good to see some artists pledge to causes addressing their communities — such as M. Sage’s Cattails & Scrap Tactics, which donated to Chicago’s My Block My Hood My City. I have no ties to Chicago, but I was happy for the artist to use the proceeds in this way upon my purchase of the album. And it gives a personal brush-stroke to the artist — knowing what he cares about adds to my appreciation and connection.

Besides, it will do us all good to think locally more often. The internet is good at conditioning us to ignore the things — and injustices — happening right in front of us.

As for imperialism (?), is it the same if a Hungarian company I bought from gave donations to a Hungarian charity? I’m for supporting any company or individual improving their vicinity and encouraging good deeds. The countries that make positive changes influence us all and set examples for others to follow. That’s important, no matter who does it. 

There’s also the Barry Crimmons joke (often recounted by Bill Hicks) about people who ask why, if he’s so critical of the US, he doesn’t move elsewhere: “What, and become a victim of our foreign policy?” That’s a vintage quote but now, more than ever, local change is global.

The mystery artist has more thoughts:

The artist has set up a separate webstore to underline what he sees as an unhealthy dominance of the underground music market. “Bandcamp should be a tool to help artists and labels achieve an end, not the cultural statement in itself. What began as a liberating force is starting to fester into a rigid dead end, stifling the creative freedom of artists by indirectly and facelessly demanding they comply with the cultural standards they dictate to us.”

This opinion sounds like more tiring ‘musicians should just shut up and make music‘ talk. For one thing, Bandcamp’s donations come out of their take, so it’s not like anyone’s forcing the artists to ‘comply.’ And, in my opinion, we should treasure companies that take stands1And, yes, that includes causes that I disagree with. Discerning the owner’s predilections makes it easier to know where to spend my cash. Understandably, this is scary for many companies and their owners, and it’s a form of bravery we should welcome. It tells us they still have a foothold in their communities and aren’t obsessed with scale and the ‘please everyone’ mindset that comes with scale. From a tech company, that’s refreshing. It’s the opposite of Facebook’s refusal to moderate inciting and misleading content for fear of appearing to take sides. Inadvertently, that’s become a ‘stand’ of its own and look where it’s gotten them.

I do agree with one action taken by the unnamed artist. “The artist has set up a separate webstore …” That’s an excellent move. As terrific as Bandcamp is, it’s a mistake to solely rely on the platform — or any third party platform — as an artist’s sole window to her audience and potential fanbase. One should think of Bandcamp as merely a tool and not the hub, the same as Facebook and all the others. An artist’s own website is always the preferable destination.

An In-Store Music Mystery

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Last month, an episode of the podcast Reply All aired that included a music mystery. Brian, the protagonist, recorded a jazzy version of a Christmas song with his friends, burned a few CDs, and uploaded it to YouTube. After views (and listens) never broke double-digits, he forgot about the song. And then, months later, he hears his song playing over the speakers as he shops in a major grocery store chain.

It’s a fun episode, and you should listen to it before reading any further into this post. I’ll end up spoiling it for you. Here you go:

Interesting, eh? The mystery is unsolved. The first question is: how would anyone get ahold of the song? It’s verified that Brian or his friends did not distribute the song through a service like CD Baby. Someone would need the CD or, more likely, the ability to rip music from YouTube. Next: How did the song get into the grocery store? At first, it’s naïvely thought that an employee played the music, but major stores all use music services like Mood Media (who now own Muzak, which you’ve heard of). This is mostly for licensing and rights purposes — it saves the stores from having to individually clear the rights to play music in a commercial establishment.1This leads to a fascinating discussion in the podcast about how the services select music for in-store play. For example, a song’s tempo should resemble the rate a shopper is pushing a cart down an aisle. Seriously, listen to the podcast if you haven’t. But a service like Mood Media would only acquire music submitted to them. This submission could happen directly or through a distributor like CD Baby.

There’s also an Occam’s razor theory that Brian misheard the music in the store and mistook it for his song. He’s given some entertaining tests to find out how well he can identify music. Brian passes with flying colors — he’s got an exceptional ear.

There are other theories thrown about, like the unlikely idea that the music service is pirating Christmas songs to avoid paying royalties. When you think about it, that’s more trouble than it’s worth — a large company isn’t going to spend time trawling YouTube and ripping songs, and if caught, the penalties and reputational harm would be enormous.

The episode ends with a big shrug. The case of the errant Christmas song remains a mystery. The hosts thought through every possible theory, and each is flat-out wrong or unverifiable. 

But I have a theory. It’s a theory that’s not touched on in the episode. And, if Brian did hear his song, I bet I’m on to something. I wrote the Reply All team to let them know my idea. Here’s what I told them:

My guess is the song was indeed unscrupulously downloaded and put into circulation. But it wasn’t the music supplier who did this. The clue was when the representative asked if the song could be available from an aggregator like CD Baby.

Let me now give you two examples that will help illustrate my theory:

Check out this article about a ‘music artist’ grabbing songs that don’t have many plays, downloading them, and then releasing them as his own (via 5 Magazine). 

And on my blog, I wrote about Kevin MacLeod, who makes music and lets people use it for free in their YouTube videos in exchange for credit. But then someone downloaded his songs and, claiming to be him, registered them with YouTube’s Content ID. This unsavory person was able to monetize the videos that are using Kevin’s music.

So, here’s my theory: Someone is searching YouTube looking for Xmas songs with very low play counts. I’m sure there’s a lot of unreleased, amateur Christmas music on YouTube. And, the lower the play count, the less likely anyone uncovers this scheme. This individual then downloads the songs using a stream-ripper and then collects them into a Christmas ‘album.’ Then this ‘album’ is sent to a service like CD Baby or directly to an in-store music service. The ‘album’ is released under this individual’s name — not Brian’s — to get royalties and payments from places like major grocery store chains for plays.

That said, two factors do *not* support this theory. First, I played the song off the YouTube video for Shazam. A distributor like CD Baby would usually give the music to Shazam’s database. When I tried Shazam, it either could not identify the song or misidentified it. (There was one version of the same song that Shazam suggested that had a very similar piano style, but no drums or sax.)

Another factor is YouTube’s Content ID, as mentioned above. Like Shazam, most distributors would make their aggregated music available to Content ID. If that were the case, Brian’s original video would get flagged.

But we could be dealing with someone who does this kind of thing *a lot* and knows what they are doing. Some distributors will let the artist tell them which outlets to supply music to and which to exclude. I would guess CD Baby and Distrokid offer this option. So, if the individual who ripped this music is explicitly targeting in-store play outlets and the royalties from those, the distributor could be told only to give the music to in-store play music suppliers. In other words, no Spotify, no Shazam, no Content ID. Thus, there’s even less chance to discover this scheme.

The individual could also have a direct account with the in-store music supplier, bypassing normal distribution channels (and thus also Shazam and Content ID). If that’s the case, this person does this a lot — the in-store music services will only deal directly with labels and artists submitting content regularly. 

This secret person could be a ‘professional’ — supplying lots of unreleased holiday music ripped from YouTube, repeatedly played over the season (which, as noted in the podcast episode, is getting longer and longer), and collecting royalties. 

That’s my theory, but I suppose we’ll never know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What Am I Doing Now? (June 2020)

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I kept the /now page stuck in January 2020 for months. I was reluctant to update things as that January time capsule quickly transformed into novelty. Have you seen those videos where the woman talks to her future self, visiting the past from only two months ahead? It feels like that when I look at the plans I laid out last January. If my past self only knew what was in store and how those bold plans went right in the bin.

Rather than give an overview of the past six months (which would be daunting), I’ll keep this in the present. I believe that’s what /now is about, anyway. So here’s what is happening now:

Work:
• I was hired by a pair of businesses to create original theme music and audio logos for their content marketing. That’s what we call a ‘side gig,’ and I happily accept those in this time of professional challenges. It would be cool to do more of this, and I created a simple landing page explaining what I offer.
• I was a featured speaker for the Giants of Video online summit. I gave an hour-long presentation on sourcing music for video and the various legal considerations that appear when syncing music with visual content.
• I also guested on the Spot Lyte On… podcast. Host Lawrence Peryer and I intended to talk about music business matters but instead quickly veered into a fun and casual conversation about fandom and loving music. I got somewhat nostalgic, which is rare for me.
• There were two new 8D Industries releases over the past couple of months: San Mateo’s Deepstaria and Monta At Odds’ Zen Diagram. Both are excellent (OK, I’m biased, but I wouldn’t put them out if I didn’t believe they were) and available as ‘name your price’ on Bandcamp.
• Newsletters are tough. I’ve shipped 17 ‘episodes’ of Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care and took my first break this past weekend. I wasn’t happy about skipping the weekend, but now I’m glad I did it. It’s a reset — what do I want this newsletter to be, and where do I want it to go? I have ideas. Subscribe here if you’re curious. 
• The licensing and sync industry joined the rest of the music world in slowing down for COVID-time. Things are revving back up as we all get (kinda) used to how things will be functioning for at least the rest of the year. I’m focusing on 8DSync through the summer, making up for lost time and aggressively pushing our current roster. I look forward to immersing myself in music publishing once again.

Personal:
• I spent the last month helping my mom buy a house. She closed yesterday. It’s next door. That’s a good thing — quite wonderful, really. She’s going to love lake life, especially if we keep having sunrises like this one.
• Caroline got another memoir offer and hasn’t even finished the one she’s presently co-writing. That’s amazing — she’s well on her way to a career as a professional memoir co-writer (if she’s not there already). I’m super-proud of her.
• I saw a tornado. And we were visited by coyotes.
• I’m experimenting with increasing my effectiveness (not productivity, thanks). Following Twitter advice from Craig Mod (now deleted, as I guess he deletes tweets after a couple of weeks), I’m no longer checking email or looking at any websites until the morning passes. That includes any news. For the most part, I don’t look at any news sites throughout the day. It’s interesting how the most essential and meaningful news stories still find their way to me while the outrage-of-the-day stories are invisible. And I’m removing myself from Facebook sometime soon — I can’t take that company anymore, and I’m embarrassed I didn’t make this move before. I’m currently figuring out how to go about it — instant cold turkey or gradual retreat. I’m open to any advice.
• I’m all in on Roam Research. Finding a way to digitally replicate Ryan Holiday’s index card system was my ‘white whale’ for the past two years. After trying many different apps and techniques — Notion, DevonThink, Ulysses, many others — and getting almost there but not entirely, I stumbled upon Roam. Immediately I realized Roam is the perfect tool for this digital commonplace book/index card system. Huzzah! Bonus: I’m also using Roam as my task manager and daily journal and starting to implement it as a CRM tool. I will soon be able to eliminate 3 or 4 other apps (including a couple that have subscription plans) and get the same functionality in a single app. (This seems like it should go under ‘Work,’ but this change has more dramatically improved my personal life.)

Consumption:
• As a form of de-stress, before bed, I’m catching up on the fiction — mostly science fiction — that I probably should have read when I was younger. I read the Foundation trilogy (just in time for this, I guess), which I enjoyed, but not blown away like some famous people were. I’m checking out Philip K. Dick — reading Time Out of Joint right now, which is amusing and good. I finished Consider Phlebus and had a lot of fun with it. I’ll continue that series. I also read some non-science fiction from a sci-fi author: Ray Bradbury’s Green Shadows, White Whale. It’s excellent and hilarious. 
• In the mornings, I am concurrently reading non-fiction: Tiny Habits, The Longing For Less, and Stillness Is The Key are recent ones. Right now, I’m into So You Want To Talk About Race and plan to follow that with other recommended books about this mess we’re in (and that we’ve been in since the country’s founding).
• I can’t believe I didn’t see Wild Strawberries until last week. Fantastic — I can’t stop thinking about it. I recently rewatched Long Day’s Journey Into Night, and it’s still my favorite film of the last couple of years. And we started The Bureau and just finished the second season. The series has us completely hooked. Other than those, there’s not a whole lot on the TV and film list. I’m reading a lot more these days, and the 8:30 PM sunsets have us enjoying lake life rather than watching TV in the evenings.

Connect:
• Right now, you can follow and message me on Twitter, LinkedIn, or micro.blog. Or you can reach out through this page. I’m always happy to hear from others floating around in this convoluted world. 

Incendiary and Extraordinary

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• Tomorrow is Juneteenth, and it’s the first Juneteenth that Bandcamp is donating all of its 15% sales take to the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. They’ll also allocate “an additional $30,000 per year to partner with organizations that fight for racial justice and create opportunities for people of color.” I say it’s the first as Bandcamp pledges to make this an annual thing. Many artists and labels are following suit, promising their sales shares to civil rights organizations, too. So, hey — let’s grab some music. This event is an excellent opportunity to revisit this Reddit discussion on Black ambient and experimental artists to support and this searchable site of Bandcamp’s Black-owned labels and artists. 

• Here are a couple of quick links to incendiary and extraordinary examples of Black art: the 1986 film Handsworth Songs is experimental documentary filmmaking at its best, via John Akomfrah and the Black Audio Film Collective; and this NY Times article from Marcus J. Moore compiling ’15 Essential Black Liberation Jazz Tracks.’ [LINK] + [LINK]

• Twenty Thousand Hertz is an informative podcast that delves into the “world’s most recognizable and interesting sounds.” The latest episode is about a topic near-and-dear to my heart: music copyright lawsuits. The host, Dallas Taylor, examines the ‘theft or inspiration?’ dilemma and lucidly explains the legalities. The podcast episode serves as a good explainer for those who want to know more about the topic and has a few interesting new perspectives for been-down-that-road folks like me. For what it’s worth, I don’t think any of the cases brought up in the episode should have gone to court. I do understand the potential dangers of broadly loosening our parameters on copyright, but letting experts decide on music theft disputes rather than a jury is a better idea. I wrote more about this topic here. [LINK]

• As you know from previous ramblings, I’m thinking a lot these days about how I use the online medium and the digital footprint I’m leaving. I’m playing around more with micro.blog and this site’s connected ‘micro-8sided’ blog. I’m trying out an idea of the microsite as an idea repository — a placeholder for things I’m reading, listening to, and thinking. It looks like this: short ideas and notes jotted down in the microblog, longer and better thought-out pieces on this ‘main’ blog and the email newsletter. I can use the micro to access things that grabbed my interest, expanding on some of those topics here and in the newsletter. That means the microblog provides a peek at what I’m thinking about as a preview to topics appearing here. At least, that’s how it works in theory. I may chuck it all later this week, depending on how time-consuming a labyrinth of thought this turns out to be. Oh, and as I’m lessening my presence on targeted-ad-fueled social media, micro.blog now crossposts to Twitter, and I’ll aim to visit that place less and less. Bye-bye to Facebook, too.

• Here’s a gorgeous ambient track from Dedekind Cut, an artist (and song) recommended in the Reddit thread I mentioned above.

• Lake Holden held a surprise this morning at dawn. Spot the moon. [LINK]

#Worktones: Ralph Kinsella, epic45, M. Sage

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It’s been a while since I rounded up some #Worktones that are inhabiting the home office via a pair of strategically placed desk-top speakers. Here are three albums that provide a calming concentration in these frazzling times.

Ralph Kinsella is a Scottish guitarist hailing from Dumfries and Galloway, a region primarily known to some (me) as the filming location of The Wicker Man. He reached out to the blog with a ‘check out my music’ email. I do listen when emailed (unless I’ve been bcc’ed, in which case I don’t), but I rarely receive delightful surprises like what Ralph had in store. His Abstraction EP is a gorgeous 5-tracker filled with soft, layered tones and subtle shoegaze moments. The guitar is front-and-center but awash in reverb and delay and accompanied by electronics and atmospherics. I’d describe Ralph’s EP as bright, gentle, and optimistic — as if Sarah Records released ambient music. I’m especially welcoming this sort of music into my life right now, and I can’t wait to hear Ralph’s future efforts. The Abstraction EP is a free download on Bandcamp, so there’s nothing to stop you from grabbing it. [LINK]

Continuing with more UK-based guitar ambiance, I was happy to discover We Were Never Here, the latest release from epic45. Rob Glover and Benjamin Holton, who make up the core of the band, started this project in 1995 while still in their early teens. epic45’s discography is a dozen-plus strong, and, sadly, I’m not familiar with any of it. But I take it this beatless and vocal-free album is a slight departure. A limited compact disc version of the album came with a booklet of photos of “familiar suburban and semi-rural ‘nowhere places’ that exist between large towns and cities.” The music matches this description, as these songs evoke vast, stumbled-upon locations — not the intended destination but compelling nonetheless. The sound is lush and memory-inducing, and, in addition to the occasional guitar, a menagerie of instruments, textures, and field recordings float from track-to-track. We Were Never Here is music for movies you watch with your eyes closed. [LINK]

M. Sage is a #Worktones veteran, and I previously remarked on the ‘happy accident’ spirit and sense of emergence I picked up from his music. Cattails & Scrap Tactics is his “collection of fragments, sketches, environments, and atmospheres,” compiled for Bandcamp’s June 5 artist-appreciation day, with all proceeds donated to Chicago’s My Block My Hood My City organization. I can hear the sound of an artist experimenting and wandering, but these are hardly rescued discards. It’s an album of thought bursts, welcoming attention and standing still as a complete document of the creative question. And it’s often beautiful and filled with exciting ideas. You’ll spot a guitar here, too, alongside a bevy of unidentifiable and mostly peaceful sounds to tickle the eardrums. If you’d like a download, you might be too late — the album was only available for purchase on June 5 as a special one-off. But it’s still streaming on the site — and that might be only temporary, too, so listen while you can. [LINK]

🔗→ Follow me on Bandcamp

Brightening the Forest

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I’m testing out the platform micro.blog. At first glance, this looks like a Twitter alternative, as Twitter falls under the same ‘micro-blogging’ genre. The user types in a short update — 280 characters on micro.blog, links and Markdown code not included — and followers will see it. But on micro.blog you can go over the character limit. Then your full post moves over to a personal blog while a truncated version — linking to your post — appears in the feed. So, it’s like a combination of Twitter and a blogging platform.

The differences are more substantial than that. There are no targeted ads, or any advertising, on micro.blog. Instead, users pay $5 a month for an account. This fee not only means the platform doesn’t need ads but also keeps out the bots and most of the trouble-makers. This factor gives micro.blog a different feel than other social media places we’re used to. And as you may have guessed, the downside (?) is that there are also a lot fewer people there.

I haven’t touched on the most remarkable thing about micro.blog yet. When you post, there’s not a lot of opportunity for adrenaline-rush feedback. There are no ‘likes’ or hearts to click — you won’t receive the warm fuzzies of a tweet that’s hearted dozens of times. And, even more alien, you don’t know who follows you. You don’t even know how many people follow you. No one could be following you. Or hundreds. No way to know. You can see who other people are following — this helps with discovering who is on micro.blog. But if they follow you? That’s a mystery.

The only tap on the wall you’ll get from the cell next door is when someone responds to your post. And, being the only option, this seems to encourage people to interact. So far, in my limited experience, the users on this platform are friendly as can be. I’ve peeped in on a couple of disagreements, which were some of the nicest, most civil disputes I’ve seen. That’s jarring when you’re used to the discourse on Facebook or Twitter.

I signed up to experience a subscription-supported social media platform. That is, one that doesn’t do things like suck up personal data, use algorithms to hide posts, tolerate bots and unsavories to strengthen user numbers, or amplify contentious posts to increase angered engagement. I intended to give it a go for a couple of weeks solely for research and then move on. It’s educational, and I’m enjoying myself. It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate timeline (no pun intended). I might stay.

Sometimes I wonder why I even need social media or an outlet like micro.blog. There is the ‘social’ in social media — keeping touch with friends. I would hope we could stay in touch with each other regardless. Then there’s the town-crier aspect. We want to tell others about the cool things we’ve found, like that hilarious video or the article that totally captures how we feel. I also like using social platforms as a notepad to keep track of things I might want to remember later (like those hilarious videos and spot-on articles).

——————

The cry to ‘delete Facebook’ is particularly loud at the moment. It’s always been in the background — remember six years ago when everyone was going to ditch Facebook for Ello? But with all the recent infuriating activities of Zuckcorp, many have reached a tipping point. And rather than a threat of ‘we’re leaving for someone else,’ the voices are simply saying, “We’re leaving.”

Here are one blogger’s reasons for leaving. And here’s a zeitgeist-y piece in Wired with instructions for deleting social media accounts. Writer and investor Om Malik is vocal about this, too, writing, “If you believe that Facebook is causing long-term damage to our society, and you don’t agree with their values or their approach to doing business, you can choose to leave.” But it’s author Alan Jacobs who really speaks to the punk rock kid living inside my brain:

When you use the big social media platforms you contribute to their power and influence, and you deplete the energy and value of the open web. You make things worse for everyone. I truly believe that. Which is why I’m so obnoxiously repetitive on this point.

——————

Kickstarter founder Yancey Strickler has written about what he calls The Dark Forest Theory of the Internet. He bases his thesis on the metaphor of wandering through a forest at night, which seems quiet and empty. But the forest is teeming with life — everything’s just hiding.

Strickler believes this is what the internet will become as people go off into their private groups and corners of the ‘indie web.’ Then Facebook, Twitter, and corporate social media will get left with the users who are screaming, antagonizing, and spreading untruths. Strickler fears that rather than isolating ugly voices, the ‘dark forest’ might increase their influence:

It’s possible, I suppose, that a shift away from the mainstream internet and into the dark forests could permanently limit the mainstream’s influence. It could delegitimize it. In some ways that’s the story of the internet’s effect on broadcast television. But we forget how powerful television still is. And those of us building dark forests risk underestimating how powerful the mainstream channels will continue to be, and how minor our havens are compared to their immensity.

I’m doubtful. I think there’s a difference between what Strickler calls ‘the mainstream internet’ and the manipulative, corporate, and closed internet we’re escaping. The screamers and the antagonizers are already doing a great job influencing powerful media, and they do it partly by influencing us. We talk about this ugliness on social media, we argue and engage with it, we even ‘retweet’ or share its messages with or without commentary. Then our reactions are amplified by an algorithm that feeds on conflict and anger. Often we spread the awfulness by merely being alongside it.

I don’t think it’s their forest we’re hiding in. If any part of the internet is ‘mainstream’, then it’s the part that’s not closed-off, disagreeable to our values, and sucking our personal data like mosquitos in a rank swamp. Inverting Strickler’s analogy, we should aspire for a forest where we can walk freely in the daylight. Let’s push the screamers to hide in the darkness.

This post was adapted from Ringo Dreams of Lawn Care, a weekly newsletter loosely about music-making, music-listening, and how technology changes the culture around those things. Click here to check out the latest issue and subscribe.

Isolation Is Their Preferred Place

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It might add comfort in our continuing isolation to watch the stories of people who are isolated by where they choose to live. ‘Choose’ is the key word here — these folks wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.

I watched the documentary Children of the Arctic, described as “a portrait of five Native Alaskan teenagers growing up in Barrow – the northernmost community in the United States.” The town (since renamed Utqiagvik) has unique challenges, including the all-too-apparent effect of climate change on its way of life, a loosening of revered traditions, the months of total darkness, and the depression that overtakes its residents. A couple of the teenagers do leave for a bigger city — but then they come back. What we see as isolation is their preferred place, a home they won’t give up. [LINK]

The next night I watched Darwin, which profiles the 35-strong population of the dying town in Death Valley, California, that gives the film its title. It’s a place where people go to hide, though not necessarily from the law. The mines are long-closed, as is the Black Metal Saloon, but the residents love living in Darwin and sing its praises throughout the documentary’s run-time. [LINK]

The musical score in Children of the Arctic is remarkable — gorgeous and droning and fitting the views of northern lights and snowy vistas. I noticed, in the credits, that Michael Brook is responsible. Then Darwin‘s score also grabbed me, with lonely, far-away guitar riffing and desert-toned passages. I watched the credits and — again! — Michael Brook. What a coincidence, right? Not really, as I realized the same director is responsible for both films: Nick Brandestini. This double-feature was not intentional, and I wasn’t familiar with Brandestini beforehand. But now I’m looking forward to seeing his latest documentary, Sapelo. From the IMDb description — the film takes place on “a unique American island” — it appears to also involve isolation by choice.

Not As Many Yesterdays

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• Over the past several months, I’ve been reading not-so-heavy fiction before bed to help clear my head of news-trauma before sleep. I’m using the opportunity to check out books I probably should have read in my teens and college years but didn’t. At the time, I was mainly reading music fanzines1It’s fair to say that music fanzines made up 85% of what I read between the ages of 17 and 25 and Stephen King novels (with the occasional Vonnegut and beat writer interlude), so there’s a lot of catching up to do.

I just finished Isaac Asimov’s The Foundation Trilogy. A lot of people enthusiastically recommended the series, but it didn’t blow me away as I expected.2I guess I really should have read this when I was younger, as that’s when all the people who recommended it did. I’m glad I read the trilogy, though. There are many thought-provoking concepts, and that’s the least one can want from a book. Also, the storyline of The Mule captivated me. The Mule is a mutant conqueror who can mentally bend people’s emotions to become subservient, effectively enamored by him. What’s most interesting is that these people are aware of their manipulation, but they press on in their devotion. Here’s a passage from Second Foundation:

What kept him from action? What deadened him? There was a time when he was a rebellious and unpromoted captain of the First Foundation’s commercial empire, when it would have been himself rather than Channis who would have taken prompt and daring action such as that. Was the Mule right? Was his controlled mind so concerned with obedience as to lose initiative? He felt a thickening despondency drive him down into a strange lassitude. […]

Pritcher nodded mutely, and cogitated in the sudden loneliness on the evils of approaching fifty. The visiplate was sparsely starred. The main body of the Galaxy misted one end. What if he were free of the Mule’s influence—

But he recoiled in horror at the thought.

I can’t help but equate this to our struggles with social media and the internet in general. Not to mention, how we ‘lose initiative’ through our internet interactions (see: slacktivism). We know we should turn away, but we can’t — it feels too good to persist. File this alongside Wednesday’s ‘Siren’s song’ metaphor.

• Often this blog gets ‘meta,’ and I talk about the joys and processes of blogging. There are many things that I wish I had started earlier (like reading something meatier than music fanzines). I like to think blogging is one of those things. But, I was blogging as soon as the late ’90s. Astralwerks set up a site for me, and I had a ‘dispatches’ page where I could post a tour diary or studio updates. My Q-BAM site had a blog, too. And I’m embarrassed to admit I semi-regularly blogged on MySpace — most of those posts disappeared into the ether.

The problem was that I didn’t blog consistently. If I did post, the content was usually related to promoting an upcoming gig or release, or a tracklist and link to the latest Invisible Airwaves radio show. Occasionally the writer within appeared — here’s a piece I wrote on Tony Wilson from 2007 that I still enjoy seeing — but those pieces were rare. 

I’m thinking about this because I ran across a blog post by ex-Google programmer Steve Yegge from 2005. It’s called You Should Write Blogs, and I wish I had read it at the time. Steve is encouraging everyone to blog, and he lays out compelling reasons. Early on in the piece, he writes:

This is certainly the most important thing I’ll ever say in my blogs: YOU should write blogs.

Even if nobody reads them, you should write them. It’s become pretty clear to me that blogging is a source of both innovation and clarity. I have many of my best ideas and insights while blogging. Struggling to express things that you’re thinking or feeling helps you understand them better.

I don’t know if this article would have inspired a blogging (or writing) practice in those years. I certainly didn’t understand how writing in public sharpens the mind, hones opinions, and feels fantastic. No one told me. Or, more likely, I wasn’t listening — I was too busy slurping vodka and playing records in dark rooms. 

What’s the cliché? The best time to start something is yesterday, and the second-best time is right now. I’m thankful I started this blog a few yesterdays ago, even if it’s not as many yesterdays as I’d like. For the rest of you, the time is now. Get blogging. Here’s some encouragement of my own.

• This video of David Bowie turning the interview tables on MTV’s Mark Goodman is making the rounds. And with good reason. How cool.

• I’m just putting this here: State Moves Into Unannounced Goth Phase of Reopening

• The news has come over the wire that Jon Hassell is releasing the second installment of his ‘pentimento’ series on July 24. The first one, from 2018, was excellent, so I’m excited to hear its follow-up, Seeing Through Sound. The lead track — “Fearless” — is live, and it’s no surprise that it’s a stunner. Pre-ordered!

I should also mention that there’s a GoFundMe page for Jon Hassell. He’s not in the best of health right now, and the present COVID-19 dangers have made his situation direr. The page was set up by friends and family to help Hassell get financial assistance so he can receive the care he requires. [LINK]

• Lake Holden was looking particularly serene this morning = [LINK]

Starting Points

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• As a former niche record store owner, I can’t wait to see Other Music, the documentary on New York City’s much-loved and much-missed outsider music shop. Writer and investor Om Malik beat me to it, giving the film an enthusiastic thumbs up. He found a profound message about how the discovery of music we love attaches to a moment in time. There are people, memories, and places forever associated with songs and albums. Unfortunately, algorithmic discovery doesn’t connect itself to our memories, and the music becomes dissociated from personal meaning. Malik writes:

While the film is about a record store, it is really about serendipity and the emotion of discovery. We need a story to make something a memory. I watched the documentary and instantly remembered every single salesperson, their quirks, and even their snobbery. […] This is the missing piece of Spotify as we know of it today. The faceless algorithm does nothing to cement the moment of musical revelation in our memories. I am currently tripping on Oceanvs Orientalis, but I have no idea how I ended up finding them and liking their music. By comparison, a friend’s beau introduced me to El Jazzy Chavo. Every time I play his music, I think of the two of them and our bumpy car ride together.

Even if algorithms are efficient at providing basic “if you like this, then you might like this” music recommendations, they deprive us of the joy of discovery.

This sentiment is on point now more than ever. We’re living sequestered thanks to COVID-19, and opportunities to hear songs for the first time in clubs, restaurants, or in cars with friends are rare. That said, I wonder how much the music we’re finding now will live on in our emotions as the ‘songs of lockdown.’ [LINK]

• Shawn Reynaldo’s latest First Floor newsletter is remarkable. He asks himself, “What does ‘doing better’ actually look like?” Shawn refers to his desire to confront systemic racism, especially as part of the electronic dance music industry. His piece starts with a lay of the land and what others are doing — or are trying to do. Then Shawn leads into a self-examination:

Looking back at my own career, I’d like to say that I had avoided these traps, but the truth is that I’m just as guilty as most other music professionals I know. I admit that before last week, I hadn’t really considered some of these issues, as I was complacent in the fact that because I had written about and booked countless black artists over the years, I was doing my part to help. After all, even though my colleagues and I had been mostly all white, we were also “progressive” people with good intentions and the right politics, which placed us on the right side of this struggle. It almost feels ridiculous to be writing these things now, but after doing a lot of reading, reflecting and listening in recent days, it’s now obvious to me that I wasn’t doing enough.

Shawn goes on to list how he plans to start ‘doing better.’ These suggestions are thought-out and I’m making note, adopting them as well. And, as Shawn knows, these serve as a starting point. The changes we need to make go deep — both outside and within — and they will evolve as addressing lingering issues will reveal new challenges. Be sure to read Shawn’s full article — it’s powerful, and I can’t stop thinking about it. [LINK]

• Related to ‘doing better,’ One Little Indian Records has been using that name since 1985, releasing seminal records from Bjork, The Shamen, Chumbawamba, and others. As of yesterday, the label has renamed itself One Little Independent Records.

• I’m learning about Czech performance artist Milan Knizak, a ‘member of Fluxus behind the Iron Curtain.’ Like Christian Marclay, who followed him, Knizak broke, burned, soiled, and tormented records. Then he put them back together with glue, tape, and who knows what else. Much to the chagrin and detriment of his turntable and needle, he played these reassembled records. If you’re curious about what that sounded like, then hold on to your hat … here you go:

• Today’s Lake Holden photo at dawn is a pretty one = [LINK]

The Promise of Unending Knowledge

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• Here are two audio snapshots of recent protests. First, Radiolab offers a short meditation on Nina Simone’s sad, unbroken thread line to today’s injustices, profiling a remarkable concert she gave three days after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. And via his S/FJ newsletter, Sasha Frere-Jones shares a recording titled ‘Five Minutes June 3 2020.’ The audio — taken from the streets of New York City — is both exhilarating and terrifying. It’s also sound-as-art, a collage of moods and voices that rings in every feeling part of you. [LINK] + [LINK]

• HBO Max shows why escaping to the indie web is looking better with each passing day. It’s about time for a federal version of the CCPA. [LINK]

• I stumbled across this excellent NY Times piece by Peggy Orenstein from 2009. She writes eloquently about her struggles with the addictive qualities of the internet. I’m charmed by this mythological metaphor for our shared dilemma:

Not long ago, I started an experiment in self-binding: intentionally creating an obstacle to behavior I was helpless to control, much the way Ulysses lashed himself to his ship’s mast to avoid succumbing to the Sirens’ song. In my case, though, the irresistible temptation was the Internet. […] Those mythical bird-women (look it up) didn’t seduce with beauty or carnality — not with petty diversions — but with the promise of unending knowledge. “Over all the generous earth we know everything that happens,” they crooned to passing ships, vowing that any sailor who heeded their voices would emerge a “wiser man.” That is precisely the draw of the Internet. [LINK]

• There’s a nice profile of my friend Craig Snyder in the latest edition of Byta’s #HowWeListen series. Yes, he talks about how he listens (and what he’s listening to) and gives a lovely shout-out to yours truly and my weekly newsletter. But my favorite part is Craig talking about how records and the spaces they’re in (‘the room’) should fit each other:

I used to have a big vinyl collection but I’ve now slimmed my collection down to a case that holds 200 records. I remember going into one of my favorite bars called Tubby’s in Kingston, NY and noticing their vinyl collection. I remember asking how they curated their collection and the owner said, we picked out our 200 favorite records that fit this room. No matter which record we pick, it feels right. I also had an experience in an Airbnb in Montreal where there was a small vinyl collection. As I looked around the apartment I realized that these 50 records were the perfect collection for this particular place.

These two experiences made me rethink accumulating records. If I buy a new LP, then one needs to leave. That’s my goal with my 200 LPs. They’re the soundtrack of my living room in the Catskills. If I lived in a different house I’d probably need a different set of 200 albums. [LINK]

• Here’s a moody instrumental tune from Yorkshire’s worriedaboutsatan. It creeps up on you without being creepy.

• Lake Holden’s looking good this morning → [LINK]