I have a constant, love/hate relationship with modern photography, but people who shoot incessant band photos for their blogs tracks way over to the Hate end of the spectrum.

That said, I do appreciate a great shot, so it’s a conundrum. This comment thread on BrooklynVegan is a really nice snapshot (ahem.) of the current debate. It also has some nice 4th wall breaking from Fleet Foxes themselves.

This is really kinda sad.

The Greatest Music Collection is being sold at a massive discount, except nobody wants to buy it. And why would they? When almost everything in Paul’s collection likely exists in a digital form somewhere, who wants the burden of being the paladin over a massive physical media collection?

Now, I’m no archivist. I leave that to Rick Webb. But there’s something heartbreaking about this person who thought they were doing a great thing, a great service in saving all of those records, only to discover that when the time came to pass the torch along, no one would want the responsibility.

With vinyl being the only medium seeing sales growth, you’d imagine that someone, somewhere would be up for it. Perhaps the new vinyl collectors just haven’t hit that tipping point yet.

(via Gizmodo.)

This friend of a friend Alex Tyson has an amazing short film up of Charles Cohen playing the ultra rare Buchla Music Easel.

from the post:

And people wonder why bands flip them off. Seriously. This is why I: 1) stopped taking photos at shows, 2) lost interest in photography as a hobby and 3) really hate internet folks sometimes.

My last post about Slam Dance got me thinking. Particularly about how I used to find out about music.

Films have always been a great, awesome source of new music for me. I’ve discovered Django Reinhardt, LaVerne Baker, the Fibonaccis, Babyland, and that incredible song by the Chambers Brothers, ‘The Time Has Come Today’ (you know you’ve heard it!) while watching movies.

I LOVE soundtracks. I buy them a lot. I own over 200 soundtrack CDs.

And now I’m going to betray my industry and criticize product placement.

It bums me out that a song doesn’t get in to a film today unless someone gets paid. I’ve seen movies that were just fluff made to sell a soundtrack CD. That just sucks. Then there are awesome movies with equally awesome soundtracks, like Boogie Nights, Grosse Pointe Blank, Snatch, Dazed & Confused… I’d like to think that those musical choices were made in accordance with the story, not to sell X number of whatever people actually buy anymore. And what happened to scores? Are those now relegated to indie films? David Lynch movies? Does no one compose music for films anymore?

I signed in to comment on Nick’s post, and then I put the keyboard down (wireless, for the laptop: I’m in my living room watching Slam Dance) and my cat, Kali, plopped down next to me and started typing. She didn’t manage to say anything coherent to human eyes, but she typed away diligently.

Perhaps that means it’s time for me to post. I’ve been working on a post about Ruby on Rails for a while, but that needs some more work. I’ll write something about my favorite cameras tomorrow.

In the meantime, my cats.

And Slam Dance is the film that introduced me to one of my favorite bands of all time, the Fibonaccis.
Wall of Voodoo is awesome, too. Stan Ridgeway. Who doesn’t remember “Mexican Radio”? Besides those of you born after 1983… that is.
Anyway, a great film and greater soundtrack. Fun times!

Doomed. We’re all DOOMED. ART. LIFE.

So a friend of mine is in this really awesome band with a terrible name. She recently asked me if I would write the liner notes for their upcoming 7”. Now, I don’t think she knew it, but writing liner notes has been one of my secret dreams forever. It’s one of the reasons I always wanted to date rock musicians. So of course I bit at the opportunity, in my cool, detached, “whatever” way.

And here they are:

‘Til We’re Blue or Destroy This Train

Do you remember the best night of your life? Try not to think of it in clichéd terms- first kisses, days your kids were born, things like that. No, think about it more in the abstract; could you even decide on a single night? Did you even realize it was happening? Or is it like so many other great moments whose brilliance is only discrernable at a distance, when you can pick it out of a field of stars in the murky dusk?

It was probably not so different from any other night back during those salad days. You had probably worked earlier in the day, and the promise of the night ahead made it just that much sweeter, like balsamic vinegar poured over a strawberry (try it if you don’t believe me). You likely drove into town to meet some friends you’d already seen a few times this week. You went to the same bar, you drank, you listened to whatever the jukebox had decided to play.

All in all, pretty unremarkable.

But there was something about this night that made it perfect. Something about the conversations, or how everyone was getting along for once. Maybe it was just the way the christmas lights in the courtyard reflected on your glass when you lit your second to last cigarette. You can’t put your finger on it, but years later that anonymous night will be the archetype for the golden age in your little story. When you think back on it, years later, you’ll never believe how good you once had it.

And this? This was the band that was playing on the stereo in your shitty car as you pulled out of the parking lot at work, windows down. This was the soundtrack.

- R. McManus, somewhere over East Texas, 2008

Good article in MediaWeek about the use of web for delivering promotional ideas. I think this is going to explode. Promotion agencies should invest in digital knowledge and/or partnerships.

I wish I had the web when I was a client at Miller in the mid-90’s. We did this crazy program called the MGD Blind Date. It was series of secret concerts held once or twice a year where winners of radio contests across the country were flown into a city, put on a bus, taken to an unannounced venue and then tightly packed in front of a dark stage. Suspense would build and then the lights would come on and David Bowie would be standing there singing Fame. (We had some good bands like the Cure and RHCP and the Foo Fighters and some now embarrassing bands like Bush.) It was a successful program and gave Miller a leg up in the critical on-premise. Anyway, the key to this idea was speculation. Who is the band? We wanted rumors to run wild in bars across the country. In order to make sure that happened, we had to spend $10MM in media including radio advertising. It worked, but it was a sizable gamble and eventually Miller couldn’t bear the risk (although it was one of the longest runing programs in beer history).

ANYWAY, my point of this story is that if I were to do the MGD Blind Date today, I would unapologetically use the web to propagate the rumors and substantially reduce the cost of this program. I hope that begins to happen and marketers start taking more chances and make the world a bit more fun.