I’ve always been obsessed with liner notes. It goes all the way back to my very first LP with Lionel Richie in 1983 (Can’t Slow Down), when I became acquainted with the likes of Greg Phillinganes, David Cochrane and Paulinho Da Costa for the first time - musicians almost no one has ever heard of, but who everyone’s no doubt encountered on the radio at some point - behind the likes of Richie, McCartney or Celine Dion.

Some people have this inclination, and there’s nothing to be done about it, really. It’s a reflex, the first thing I do when I get a new CD is sit down and read the liner notes - very thoroughly - more thorough than you can imagine, probably. Some people would say I have a problem.

Anyways, I’ve always tried to organize this enormous amount of information about dorophone players, whistlers and Synclavier programmers in a thoroughly relational manner on my computer - and I’m never satisfied.

I hope all that will change now - I just purchased a cataloging program that appears to be really promising - I’m very optimistic. It’s called CATTraxx and it certainly seems to cover all bases - you can sort your information according to just about any parameter you can think of - artist, album, year, company, songwriter, lyricist… right down to the hand claps and the police whistles (Donald Fagen on “Aja”, if you were wondering.)

After doing some research on the subject, CATTraxx seems to be the most comprehensive alternative out there. It’s priced at $39.99, and I suppose that’s fairly reasonable - it appears to be a solid product. The web site is a little underwhelming, though - don’t let that fool you. You can download the software and try before you buy.

It’s easy to enter information as well, once you get the hang of it - plenty of keyboard shortcuts and logical tabs. Now, if there was only a way to transfer the 60,000+ entries from my old Access-database…hmmm

I found this hilarious story on TimesOnline. It’s from a new book by Jon Holmes called “Status Quo and the Kangaroo and Other Rock Apocryphals“.

It’s described as “a collection of myths, legends, and apocryphal tales of pop and rock that have come straight from the mouths of those that were there, those that shouldn’t have been there and those that were there but left early and only heard about it afterwards.”

It can be pre-ordered here. I think I will.

Oasis are big. I don’t mean now, when they’re still big but past their best. I mean back when Wonderwall had just become an anthem to a disaffected youth, a youth who fervently believed that all the roads he had to walk were winding and that all the lights that would lead him there were blinding.

Perhaps to celebrate, Noel and Liam had gone to see Spinal Tap live. This is Spinal Tap was one of Liam’s favourite films ever and his little northern moptop face was beaming at the prospect of seeing them onstage, in the flesh. And of course the gig was a belter.

Two hours of pure unadulterated Tap. And then it was time for the encore. For which the Spinal Tap boys came on as A Mighty Wind. The Wind began to play a short set of their errant folk music. Liam let them get half a song in before he leaned over to his brother and said: “Who are these c****?”

Noel looked at him. “It’s them.” “What?” said Liam. “Them who?”

“Them,” hissed Noel. “Them who?” insisted Liam.

“F****** hell, Liam,” Noel insisted back. “It’s them. Spinal Tap.”

“Them’s not Spinal Tap. These are some folk c****,” eloquised Liam.

“No, Liam, it’s them. It’s Harry Shearer and the others. They’re actors. The actors who play Spinal Tap.”

There is a moment of silence from Liam. Even Noel must have realised what was coming next. “Actors?”

And with that Liam, disgusted, walked out. It is for this reason that no one has yet told him the truth about Father Christmas.

Watching this put me in a really good mood today. Hope it does the same for you.

It’s confession time for schiing. I hereby declare that I love:

• The slap bass of Mark King in Level 42
• The trademark sawtooth synth sweep of Vangelis
• The French horn emulations of David Foster
• Jeff Porcaro’s one bar drum groove at 3:28 on “English Eyes”, 1981
• The tutti horn solo on Tower of Power’s “You Can’t Fall Up (You Just Fall Down)”, 1991
• Tom Scott’s smooth tune “Desire” (Desire, 1982)
• Mark Fisher’s DX7 guitar solo on Matt Bianco’s “Summer Song”, 1986
• Yellowjackets’ modulating synth epos”Nimbus”, 1983
• Al Jarreau touching the face of God in “Mornin’”, 1983
• Any acoustic piano and Fender Rhodes intro created between 1978 and 1983
• “Ballerina Girl”
• Peter Cetera’s guest vocals on Paul Anka’s “Hold Me ‘Til The Morning Comes”, 1983
• Elton John’s “trumpet” solo on “Nikita”
• Mr. Mister’s synth bass line on “Broken Wings”
• The muted guitar sounds of Cock Robin
• “Axel F”
• Jan Hammer’s “keytar” solos
• Shakatak
• Linn drums
• The E.V.I.

I recently discovered Continuum’s 33 1/3 series, a series of books going in-depth on “interesting” albums in pop and rock history, such as “Highway 61 Revisited” by Dylan, “Harvest” by Young, “OK Computer” by Radiohead and “Aja” by Steely Dan, you know, the classics.

I haven’t actually read any of the books yet, except for an excerpt from the “Aja”-book. But it looks really good - they’re discussing everything from Dan’s use of the sixth to their lyric obsession with drinks (Pina Colada, Scotch whisky, retsina, Coke and rum - to name a few). The books appear to be about 150 pages each - and they’re probably right up my alley. I mean, 150 pages about one rock album, to me that’s a really promising premise. From the back cover:

Interweaving behind-the-scenes revelations with trenchant musical and lyrical analysis…

Aah, seemingly brilliant. I hope I’m not disappointed when I read this. I’m going for the “Aja” book first, I think. If it’s any good there’s still about 50 more to go…

In the U.S., SoundExchange is a performance rights organization licencing, collecting and distributing royalties on behalf of the copyright owner of sound recordings for “noninteractive digital transmissions on cable, satellite and webcast services” - such as Internet radio. SoundExchange is a spin-off of the infamous RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America.)

If this sounds like a recipe for for disaster, you’re right on. Take a look at this quote from their website:

The recent U.S. Copyright Office ruling regarding webcasting designated SoundExchange to collect and distribute to all nonmembers as well as its members. The Librarian of Congress issued his decision with rates and terms to govern the compulsory license for webcasters (Internet-only radio) and simulcastors (retransmissions).

That’s right. They’re actually collecting money to distribute to their nonmembers! That seems awfully nice of them - but there may be a catch (well, wouldn’t you know it!)

Take a look at this interesting article over at Daily Kos: State of the Nation.

I transferred my old vinyl version of New Order’s “Substance 1987″ to mp3 today.

I had almost forgotten how much I like that album. It’s a collection of songs dating from 1981 to 1987, documenting their shift from a mainly guitar-based sound in 1981 towards a much more synth-driven soundscape by the end of the 1980s.

What originally attracted my attention to New Order, was the original version of “True Faith”, still a near-perfect pop tune in my ears. But as I listened more closely to the album, I became more and more fascinated with the first two sides (remember, it’s a double vinyl album) and especially the first two tracks, “Ceremony” and “Everything’s Gone Green”. I love playing those tracks out loud on my stereo. They still sound so crisp, 25 years after, and the crackles n’ pops from my vinyl version simply enhance the listening experience.

I used to play this and Pet Shop Boys’ “Actually” all the time in 1987-88, and I remember Neil Tennant said in an interview something to the effect that he would’ve killed to come up with the opening line in “True Faith”:

I feel so extraordinary
something’s got a hold on me
I get this feeling I’m in motion
a sudden sense of liberty

It’s a brilliant lyric, but Tennant’s certainly had his share of brilliant lyrics, too, so he’s got nothing to complain about.

I remember playing “Substance” to a friend in 1987 (we were 16.) He looked at me, skeptically, and shook his head. “I don’t understand this kind of music, it’s just… weird. It’s kind of disco, right? Here, let me play you something I’ve got [pulling out the latest Chris De Burgh record], now here’s some real music - he’s got brilliant melodies, great arrangements and he tells stories… nothing like the crap you listen to.”

I guess Chris De Burgh does all the things that my friend claimed he did, but he just didn’t get it, did he? Imagine a 16 year old kid today playing Chris De Burgh to show you what good music is, though. Ha ha.

But I must give my friend some credit for having established a few very good and valid criteria for seeking out good music at an early age.

An interesting discussion has taken place over at one of my favorite music blogs in the last week or so. Jeff at jefitoblog feared that the host took down his account last weekend due to extensive downloading of a few music files he put up there. It turns out that this may not have been the case, but it has nevertheless given spark to a fruitful debate concerning the state of the music business and the way they’re dealing with the digital music revolution.

The subject is very interesting and, being an avid music buyer sitting in another corner of the world, I feel that it has as much relevance for me as it does for music lovers in the U.S. The American entertainment industry is pretty much a world-wide enterprise, and it must surely be one of that country’s main export articles.

As a consequence, a very strong and persuasive U.S. lobby has been established, and they’re fighting hard to impose rigid American copyright laws upon the rest of the world. You can read more about that in this article on BBC.

I’ve attempted to address this subject a lot of times, but I have to admit that I often end up contradicting myself whenever I attempt to draw up arguments for and against DRM , licensing and pricing.

So instead, let’s try for a moment to forget who’s right and who’s wrong here, let’s ignore what’s possible and what’s not. Let’s pretend that the following rules were agreed upon by all parties as a sound and sensible policy for digital music files:

• Making available one or two music files is not and will never under any circumstance be considered as copyright infringement – a blogger making a track available for download to present a sample of the music he’s reviewing is an obvious case of fair use.

• An entire music album on the other hand, is copyright protected and sharing entire albums is strictly prohibited. The same goes for websites or aggregators linking to files on other websites, thus making available entire albums for download.
• Forget about DRM. All copy protection is removed from digital music files
• Free use of purchased music files. Manipulate, duplicate and store in any which way you may desire.

So, given these premises, will people still want to pay for their music?

Well, let’s start by taking a look at yours truly. One single digital music file – an mp3-file – has very little value to me these days, much like singles had very little value to me back in the 80’s – I always bought the full album.

And if I were to pay a visit to dogpile.com today and make an audio search for, say, R.E.M. AND Losing My Religion, and then actually download the file in 128 kbps mp3-format, that wouldn’t make me feel like a criminal – at all.

I do feel that it would be wrong to download an entire album from a site, though. I imagine that it would make me feel a little bit like a criminal. I would never download a rar- or zip-file containing the full ”Out of Time”-album, and I would certainly not share it with anyone else in a bittorrent environment.

I have to admit that I have done this in the past, but I stopped doing it because it simply didn’t feel like the right thing to do. I felt a bit shady.

I’ve downloaded a few single tracks at iTunes, but it actually makes me feel kinda silly to pay $0.99 for a single music file in 128 kbps quality. I’ve been wondering a bit as to why I feel that way. I never feel silly buying a chocolate bar at the exact same price, and then digesting it in 10 seconds.

I think it has something to do with this: I don’t consider one single music track to be a complete chocolate bar. It consider it more like one bite off that bar. Over at eMusic I get the full bar for $1.99 – that feels about right.

I realise that it is more time-consuming and requires a lot more thought and money to record and produce one song than it does to produce one bar of chocolate – of course I do. But I have a large record collection, and a single music file has very little value to me. It must be a pretty terrific song, and the rest of the album has to suck pretty bad for me to be willing to pay $0.99 for a song.

But here’s a twist: I’m more than willing to pay $9.99 for a 10-track album. Why is that, you ask? The answer is pretty simple.

When I’m buying an album I get a service in addition to the music itself: I get (in some cases) a complete product where someone (be it the artist or the label) has thought through a combination of songs that constitute a unity, and is something I may play up to several times a week without getting bored. I pay for the time and the thought it’s taken them, and I’m OK with that – it’s worth it.

If I download a lot of single files on the other hand, I have to make these playlists myself. Usually I don’t, I just play the music on random. I very rarely put together playlists with artistic wholeness or something like that in mind. And I sometimes miss that aspect.

If I really like an album I can listen to it constantly, for hours, days, weeks to end. I never play a single song on repeat for 40 minutes. And I never make a playlist of my last 10 single downloads and play it for hours to end.

Anyway, this is me: There’s an important distinction between single files and albums.

Now, let’s return to my earlier suggested premises – what would actually happen if they turned into reality?

Absolutely nothing, I’m afraid – it would be status quo.

It probably doesn’t matter what kind of admittances the music industry give, or what kind of restrictions they impose. It won’t change the fact that the customers’ inflated music collections have forever changed people’s view of how much music is worth.

For my part, I have a moral and economic standpoint that regards it reasonable to pay for what I consider to be a complete music product: the album. But I’m 35 years old, and I grew up with vinyl records and CDs.

The next generations probably don’t think like that at all. 19-year-olds today, with their 24/7 internet connection and torrent clients have music collections counting 10-20.000 songs, and they never even bought a CD. How do they value a single music file? Pretty much like air, I imagine.

What can persuade all these teenagers with virtual record stores on their computers to ever pay for music?

I believe that the music business need to consider some of the aspects that ultimately convince me to buy music: They need to offer them some kind of service in addition to music itself – for instance, take a look at jefitoblog – people are willing to cover Jeff’s expenses for him to be able to continue blogging about the music that they like. If the music business could ever establish that kind of trust with their customers, they may actually make some money off it – by giving good advice, maybe? People still pay for concerts, music magazines, they pay their fan club membership fee and donate to their struggling favorite indie-bands – but they’re simply not willing to pay for the music itself anymore…

Surely this sends out a message loud and clear to the music business: that maybe their strategy at this point is a little…misled?

I think it’s next to impossible to ever get the music industry to admit to something like that, though.

Consider music as information for a moment. We’re living in a time where information is considered to be one of our most important resources. Unfortunately, I believe that just as the church once tried to gain control of wisdom, just as politicians tried to gain control of knowledge – commercial industries today will continue to try and gain control of information. And that could turn out to be a very long battle.

“Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is THE BEST.” Frank Zappa

Melanie singing “Psychotherapy” Live At Carnegie Hall in 1970 (based on “The Battle Hymn of the Republic”):

Freud’s mystic world of meaning needn’t have us mystified
It’s really very simple what the psyche tries to hide:
A thing is a phallic symbol if it’s longer than it’s wide
As the id goes marching on.
Glory glory psychotherapy, glory glory sexuality,
Glory glory now we can be free as the id goes marching on.

One hippie woman, one out-of-tune guitar…inflicting mayhem upon my soul. Whenever I hear that song, I fall down on my knees and thank God I wasn’t born in 1970.

Her horrible voice. Oh, and when the sea-sick audience join in on the sing-a-long chorus! I cringe, my id loses all control and rage into uncontrollable rants about the utter inaptitude displayed by Melanie. Avoid this at all cost. There’s no chance in h*** I’ll ever give you an audio sample to prove it. Just trust me.

In the 1980s the Quaker Oats Company used a version of Melanie’s “Look What They’ve Done to My Song Ma” in their commercials for Instant Oatmeal, with the revised lyrics “…look what they’ve done to my oatmeal”.

It always makes me feel better to think about that. The pleasure taken from someone else’s misfortune should never be underrated.

Nothing much to say really, I was fiddling with some clips on my audio editor, and I just wanted to show you these three images that reflect perfectly how I feel about the music industry these days. It’s the visual representation of three short rock songs (the last one manipulated to illustrate my point, in case you were wondering.)

It depicts the past, the present, and the future of the music industry - and you can decide for yourselves whether these “charts” reflect the industry’s vision, their products or their consumers. Personally, I think it’s a blend…

Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend - 2007

? - 2017

Get it? Ooh, I’m just so clever, aren’t I? For reference on the subject I’m actually addressing here - a subject it pains me just to think about - check out this article on Wikipedia.

It’s technical, but it’s quite interesting if you’re into that sort of thing.