Media & Popular Music: Listening Diary
enter the magical mystery chambers
On January 29th, I came across an amazing record entitled “Enter The Magical Mystery Chambers,” a mashup of classic Wu-Tang Clan and Beatles records. In my Facebook feed, Jefferson Theatre promoter Danny Shea had posted a link to download the album for free from Tea Sea Records. The website described it as “a remix album using Wu Tang acapellas on Tom Caruana beats that sample Beatles songs.” I grew up listening to my father spinning Beatles records, and as I started to discover my own tastes, Wu-Tang and other Wu-affiliated projects became staples of my musical diet. The website offered a .zip file containing the entire record, individual song downloads in .mp3 form, or streaming audio – all for free. This was not an attempt to profit off of other people’s blood, sweat and tears; this was a creative reworking of two insanely influential groups, mashing genres, race, and stylistic expertise.
I was so pleasantly surprised to see and hear an album like this. I am a huge fan of remix culture; building on and developing the ideas, sounds, visuals, and concepts of other artists is essential to my collegiate and personal life. Some see remix culture as stealing – outlandish attempts to take copyrighted material and send it off as your own – I disagree wholly. For me, remix culture is a fundamental and crucial element of today’s youth: their personalities, tastes, and preferences are all molded and shaped by remix culture.
I was surprised because media scholar and copyright expert Siva Vaidhyanathan has described in detail, both in class and in public talks, the happenings of Danger Mouse’s 2004 mashup entitled “The Grey Album,” and the repercussions of its creation and distribution. EMI went through painstaking efforts to attempt to stop the dissemination of this album and still failed miserably. Not only could they not stop it, but also they tarnished their image in the process by sending cease & desist letters to all parties involved, solidifying their position as “the bad guy.” Instead of embracing the publicity surrounding “Enter the Magical Mystery Chambers” and using it to promote older Beatles records, they again took the hard stance as they did in 2004. They wanted this album to disappear, losing the chance to expand their audience and reinvigorate their customer base.
So, on February 10th, the album was taken off Tea Sea’s website. Suddenly, this album just got better. I wasn’t supposed to have it, but I did. I had shared the link with my friends on my blog, so they had it as well. The value of this record had now jumped significantly; it had transformed from an abundant, free product to a scarcity. Sure, it could be found on P2P sites and torrents. But it’s accessibility and convenience dropped significantly. The album swiftly became less user-friendly. However, the combination of these effects strengthened the connection between those who already had it. This album sparked conversation and nostalgia for both Wu-Tang and Beatles fans, and imagined what it would sound like if Paul McCartney and Ghostface Killah had illegitimate children (as witnessed in “Mighty Healthy”). A real treat is a clip from the deceased Ol’ Dirty Bastard explaining his style of “singin’-rapping,” which he claims was built upon Beatles sensibilities – followed by a must-hear mashup of “Love Me Do,” with ODB singing along with Paul atop the actual song.
Therein lies the beauty and the beast of remix culture; Tom Caruana and Tea Sea Records’ crew came up with beautiful, creative, re-imagined versions of classic artists performing classic songs – and it was shut down by EMI quickly and abruptly. This is an instance where copyright fails us as a public; Vaidhyanathan has stressed that for copyright to work, the people need to believe in it. Most of the songs on this record have been significantly modified, some to the point where the original song is barely discernible, yet that doesn’t matter to the powers that be. It is clear from the number of downloads and rave reviews online that this is a record people want to hear, but I feel this is just another instance of major labels being out of touch. The stance of Mitch Bainwol of the RIAA murmurs and resonates underneath EMI’s cease and desist letters – EMI claimed of both “The Grey Album” and “Enter the Magical Mystery Chambers” that “it’s not a question of damage, it’s a question of rights.”1 But in the remix environment we inhabit, where mashups are an inevitability, it is time to embrace the creativity and value added to the original compositions – stop heeding progress and use the publicity to monetize and promote the original artists.
them crooked vultures
In August of 2009, I was excited to hear the first snippet of music from Them Crooked Vultures, the supergroup that spawned from Dave Grohl’s 40th birthday party (at Medieval Times, no less). It came in the form of a YouTube video, all fourteen seconds of it, and it primed me for what was to come – I expected a heavy, blues oriented production due to frontman’s Josh Homme’s (Queens Of The Stone Age) and John Paul Jones’ (Led Zeppelin) pension for blues. But what I encountered in this short clip was a pounding guitar riff that repeats itself and never resolves – hinting that this album was going to be much more complex than a straight ahead blues record. In the next few months, I followed Them Crooked Vultures in the media, but wasn’t compelled to rush out and buy the album. I was satisfied with what I was seeing on YouTube – full songs from live performances began to appear, and watching Grohl pummel his drum kit into oblivion was much more satisfying to me (than simply listening to it).
I have always been enamored by Grohl’s drumming; in fact, he is one of the main reasons I started playing drums. “Smells Like Teen Spirit” was the first song I ever learned to play. Not only did Grohl clearly have the talent and chops, but also he just looked so fucking cool doing it (and had the personality to match). The visual element to this band seemed to be more important to me than the actual music; it was a spectacle and the YouTube videos fulfilled my desire to check out this band. It reminds me of McLuhan, in the sense that the medium (viewing and hearing this band on YouTube) was saying more to me than the actual music. That is to say, these uploaded videos placed me at the show, without having to pay for a ticket, with better seats than I would have gotten (and more comfortable), and allowed for me to experience the music in a different way than if I had bought the compact disc or vinyl.
In March, Them Crooked Vultures released a hilarious viral-esque video documenting Grohl’s coffee addiction spiraling out of control.2 Then, almost six months after the album had been released, I came across an advertisement in my Twitter feed from Amazon. There was a one-day sale of this record online for $2.99. Considering the amount of time I had already invested in this band, the three dollars was well worth it – in fact, paying ten or fifteen dollars would have been worth it for me – but it is rare that I actual pay for recorded music these days, especially from renowned musicians who probably have more money than they can handle. I delved into the record in a strictly audible manner, and began to appreciate the music more and more. With these musicians already having clout, they didn’t seem to be worried about fitting into a format and already had a fan base eager to hear new material. Negus’ fear of promotion affecting the creative process didn’t seem to be present here, and I really appreciated that. This record plays with odd time signatures and pushes up against math-rock sensibilities, executed masterfully by proven, expert musicians – yet still weaves in Homme’s sultry, lust-driven vocals and allows for each member to showcase their talent. It’s not the best record I’ve ever heard – but simply put, this album still kicks ass, and has placed Grohl back where he belongs: behind a drum kit.
nine inch nails live
I have been spoiled when it comes to summertime music festivals. Working for Red Light Management has its perks – and going to Bonnaroo is one of its best. Since Red Light CEO Coran Capshaw owns some (or possibly all) of the land the festival is held on, the red carpet (covered in mud, of course) is rolled out for salaried employees – and I’ve been lucky enough to experience this twice. Last year, I was ecstatic to find out that Nine Inch Nails would be performing. Bonnaroo is a space like none other I’ve ever experienced; it is the closest thing my generation will ever have to the original Woodstock – and a far cry from 1999’s Woodstock train wreck. In Manchester, Tennessee, the 700-acre farm where Bonnaroo resides is the location for anywhere from 75,000 to 90,000 concert goers for three days of music, food, art, and modern day lawlessness. As Eisenberg pointed out, the “uplifting fog” of alcohol or narcotics can be very important to music. Needless to say, live music flourishes there with an unparalleled energy.
Nine Inch Nails were performing on Saturday night and they started promptly at 1 A.M. (time has a tendency to disappear in a space like Bonnaroo). At the time, I was with my girlfriend who is barely five feet tall – and I wasn’t going to put her in harms way by slithering and pushing closer to the stage – so we settled on a section of mud farther back. The show was incredible. But there were two troubling factors: Trent Reznor announced this would be their last show in the United States (which was only partially true) and I wasn’t able to see as much of the stage as I would have liked (and more importantly, I couldn’t see the drummer!). This show was the highlight of my Bonnaroo experience, and I was anxious to get home and try to find a decent recording of it.
Upon returning to Charlottesville, my friend and artist manager at Red Light promptly sent me the mix from the soundboard of NIN’s show that he received from his brother, who had downloaded it from a torrent site. I now could relive my experience sonically time and time again. Soon after the festival had ended, the YouTube videos documenting the show started to appear – and one particular user posted the entire show, from the stage, with his camera pointed directly at Ilan Rubin, the 21 year old beast behind the drums. I now had not only an audio recording of the show, but the visual documentation I had regretfully not seen in the physical space. Digital media allows for access to these performers and performances unlike ever before and I am very grateful for this. In the years to come, I will have more to offer to the digital world in terms of producing, editing, and managing my own content – giving back to the digital environment that has given me so much. I recorded a video for YouTube playing along with crowd pleaser “March Of The Pigs,” and it garnered 800 views in two weeks. The medium is most definitely the message; the fact that music fans have this sort of access, democratized platforms of distribution, and more direct connections to their favorite band (bypassing the major labels) are integral factors in the determining the future of the music industry, but also on a more individual level, the listening and viewing habits of fans.
nostalgia, lineage, & linkage
All three of these listening experiences were propelled forward in my life through hyperlinks. The Wu-Tang/Beatles mashup was filtered through Facebook and linked back to the original website. Them Crooked Vultures’ one day sale was a promotion through micro-blogging, where the band utilized word of mouth, grassroots marketing to sell their product. The Nine Inch Nails performance was uploaded to a torrent site, downloaded, and passed through a series of instant messages until it reached my computer. The videos from the show were uploaded to YouTube, where they are shared with the world. All three cases share the same ease and accessibility that has become the standard for music distribution. For me personally, my listening habits usually revolve around nostalgia. Many songs or albums have value added to them when connected with a particular moment in time, usually a fleeting emotion that can be encapsulated in the song. People take pictures to remember special moments; I tend to relive my experiences aurally, recreating and reworking the feelings I originally felt the first time I heard a particular record, or saw a particular band. This is why live shows are so important to the music industry – it is the most intimate way for bands to connect with their fans, to give them that moment, their moment: drenched in rain or sweat, floating on top of the energy from the people around you, experiencing the music in an environment where it’s okay to forget your responsibilities for a few hours. Nostalgia reaches further than the live shows – when a song is attached to any emotion someone is feeling, it gets collected and carried along. I can’t listen to Explosions In The Sky without reliving breaking up with an ex-girlfriend. I can’t listen to GZA’s “Liquid Swords” without imagining myself on a high school bus ride to Jamestown to win a huge divisional basketball game. These experiences – and the space I experienced them in – have had a profound effect on how I listen to music. Berland’s discussion of preserving local culture bleeds into my thought pattern on this; while she was explicitly talking about preserving Canadian culture for fear of cultural imperialism, I feel that preserving and cultivating the space in which live shows are held is essential to maintaining and developing the relationships that will keep the music industry thriving for years to come. This is true on the local, regional, and national levels. The venues need to be seen as sacred spaces, and ultimately where culture is created and shared.
The lineage of bands and musicians are also important to my listening habits. I tend to stray away from the one hit wonders or flavor of the month bands – most of the bands I really enjoy are career oriented artists. They have more at stake, or at least make it seem like that, and in turn usually develop tribes of dedicated followers rather than fans of pop culture who are willing to buy into whatever is fresh that day. The lineage of the bands I have mentioned invited me to explore their older catalogs: hearing new material also made me crave old material. After listening to Them Crooked Vultures, I went back to listen to Led Zeppelin IV. I listened to Queens Of The Stone Age’s “Songs For The Deaf.” I listened to Nirvana’s “Nevermind,” then went back even farther to Grohl’s first band, the legendary DC hardcore band Scream. Hearing the Wu-Tang/Beatles mashup reminded me of how much I loved the early Wu solo projects, so I went back and listened to Ghostface’s “Ironman” and Raekwon’s “Only Built 4 Cuban Linx.” The YouTube videos showcasing Ilan Rubin linked me to the band he fronts (playing guitar and piano), The New Regime. I listened to “The White Album” and “Sgt. Peppers” and “Revolver.” While I experienced these albums in digital form, they still inspired an analog transition: hearing these older tunes encouraged me to put on my headphones and play drums along with them. Though in a digital media realm, nothing can replace the analog feeling of playing along or creating your own material on acoustic instruments. The access to generative tools and programs like Garageband and Fruity Loops may have democratized the production of music in a sense – but nothing can replace the practice, dedication, and hard work it takes to be a true, authentic, talented musician.
The kind of lineage I’m talking about is mimicked by Internet radio stations formats – they provide an echo chamber of what you’ve been listening to. This echo chamber can be viewed in a positive or negative light, but the success and shear number of users these stations have prove to me that the Internet radio stations are performing a service that people enjoy and want more of.
Though we are a ways away from finding a sustainable, standardized business model for the music industry, the concepts I have mentioned and the new, emerging platforms for discovering new (and old) music are fundamental and crucial elements to the development of a new system. The good news is that more people are listening to more music than ever. The bad news is that we as a public must accept the new system wholeheartedly, and the major forces in the music industry must do the same. As Vaidhyanathan pointed out, for systems like copyright to work, the people need to believe in the rules. The same concept translates to the landscape of the music industry. There is a long road ahead of us – the dust from Napster in 2001 still hasn’t even settled. But, luckily for us, the demand is there, and if I’m lucky enough, I just may be the one to supply and satisfy that demand. Let’s hope.
Works Kind of Cited:
1 Joseph Weisenthal. “EMI Admits No Harm Came From Grey Album, But Still.” http://www.techdirt.com/articles/20061110/122849.shtml
2 Fresh Pots. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fhdCslFcKFU
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