Earlier this month, many of us celebrated Record Store Day by visiting local record stores, or possibly mourning the loss of some of those stores. In the last decade, over 3,000 independent record stores have shut down across the country. A new documentary is looking at why record stores are losing their place in American life and what it all means for the music industry as a whole.
I Need That Record!: The Death (Or Possible Survival) of the Independent Record Store features such musical greats as Chris Frantz of the Talking Heads, Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth, and Ian Mackaye of Fugazi. They're joined by such experts as punk historian Legs McNeil and political theorist Noam Chomsky. Filmmaker Brendan Toller also interviews both small business owners and music label executives.
The film not only explores how technology and the Internet have changed the way we consume music -- with everything from mp3 players to iTunes to music blogs and MySpace to, yes, of course, illegal downloading. It also takes a hard look at how corporate giants like Wal-Mart and Best Buy are pushing small businesses out of the market, how corporate radio dictates what many of us listen to, and how major music labels "squash new ideas" by focusing on the bottom line.
From Toller's I Need That Record! blog:
The music industry has always been a unique marriage of art and commerce, but today commerce has proved to be the ultimate influence. Rather than develop great acts, embrace new technology, offer affordable products; the major labels are more concerned with turning the clocks back to preserve old business models- with only one thing in mind- THE BOTTOM LINE.
Keep the full paid expense accounts and 7 figure incomes. Keep suing fans. Keep shoving bland music down people's throats that will sell x amounts. Keep producing homogenized radio programs that play the same 50 songs. Keep supporting big box businesses that could care less about music; businesses that sell music below list price. Keep screwing the consumers and retailers who love and care about good captivating music. Squash new ideas, new innovations, and new possibilities as the future of recorded music, a commodity that supports the artist, vanishes.
I Need That Record! premiers May 3 (this Saturday) at Hampshire College in Amherst, Mass. All are welcome to attend the screening.
View the trailer here:
And check out a few more links here:
YM Blog-a-thon: Post-College Anxieties
(Editor's note: Youth Outlook and WireTap are kicking off the third Youth Media Blog-a-thon. This month's topic is money. Check back frequently for updates and feel free to join the discussion.)
Few things annoy me more than unsolicited advice.
So it's not surprising that during my senior year of college, I turned a deaf ear to anyone who tried to give their two cents about life post-college. I already knew the horror stories. Me? I was going to be fine. The universe would align itself, I'd fine myself a nice job that didn't assault my soul, great apartment, and my friends and I would visit each other every other month.
Things didn't exactly turn out that way.
While I'm probably the last person who needs to give advice, I'm going to offer my ill-advised, unprofessional opinion based on my not-so-cute encounters with brokeassedness over the past year.
First, a little background:
Recently, a friend and I were talking about how unexpectedly hard knock this post-college existence has been. To put it lightly: it's rough. And not just for spacey cats like myself who majored in impractical things like English. My friend got her degree in Biology, which meant she really studied -- like numbers and shit. Interview after interview, we're learning the truth behind the age-old adage, 'It's not what you know, but whom you know.' Sadly, it rings true both in the corporate and non-profit world's which, for better or worse, are both pretty exclusive. When you don't know the right people, it sucks.
We're not adverse to work in any way. We both had steady full- and part-time jobs while we went to school. But having a degree can sometimes give you a sense of entitlement that's flat out unwarranted.
[Note: These tips come from a very particular kind of college experience. I went to a small liberal arts college in the middle of the Southern California desert. It was like being at Camp -- with a few token people of color thrown in the mix to grace the front of the school catalogue.]
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Vogue Resurrects Old Stereotypes
I should have known it wouldn't last. The year began with such promise. America was starting to look beyond rehashed stereotypes. Progress and possibility were everywhere. Barack Obama was on the verge of breaking into the ultimate Good Ol' Boys network. Sports writers were waxing poetic on Tiger Woods' status as the greatest of all time and quest for golf's Grand Slam seemed inevitable.
Then Vogue announced LeBron James would grace its April "Shape" issue alongside uber-model Gisele Bundchen, and ... my excitement crumbled.
I know it's just some athlete posing for a picture, but the news of James' coverboy status on the venerable fashion mag had me almost as excited as the other milestones. Vogue is notoriously picky (or prejudiced depending on how you look at it) when it comes to who is allowed on its cover. In its 118 years in publication, there have only been two men and three African Americans to appear on the front cover. (To be fair, Vogue is an equal opportunity discriminator. The designers of Rodarte were recently told to go on a diet and get a personal trainer if they wanted to be in this month's release.)
So, to hear that a Black man was chosen for such a popular issue ... surely, this was a good sign.
If only. What I had thought would be a stylish symbol of cultural growth, was nothing more than a lesson in Black Stereotyping 101. The suave, graceful superstar we see on and off the basketball court was replaced by a snarling, Scary Black Man. Whatever hope or pride I had felt in anticipation of the April cover was replaced by shame and dissappointment. I am pretty thick skinned, but this stupid little picture hurt.
The photo, which bares a striking resemblance to classic King Kong posters, plays on deep rooted beliefs of the past. The image of Black men as animalistic, predatory thugs is apparently still going strong.
Of course, not everyone sees a tinge of racism in James' cover, which is exactly why I find it so disturbing. Obvious injustices -- like nooses swinging from a tree in Jena -- are easy to spot, easy to confront. It is the small, subtle slights that go unnoticed and end up holding us back.
(Note: This post originally appeared on PopandPolitics.com.)
After the Virginia Tech shootings in 2007, many members of social networking sites changed their profile pictures to a VT ribbon, in honor of the victims of the shooting. The ribbon often appeared in either black or maroon, symbolizing either mourning for the dead or support for the VT community. When the shootings at Northern Illinois University took place last week, NIU memorial ribbons similarly became widespread on Facebook and MySpace. Being a "Huskie," the school's mascot, was not only a meaningful label for NIU students, faculty and staff, but suddenly also for the extended community that radiated out from NIU memorial groups and the friends and families of the victims.
The shared visual language of these two tragedies, signals more generally how we are approaching mourning online. The images of the ribbon and the mascot are quickly and easily reproducible in a digital environment, creating what could be considered a "brand" of mourning. In an environment where copying and pasting is a regular act of creation, survivor guilt becomes easier to address. Being public about one's guilt or mourning has always been an important part of moving forward after a loss. The cross-cultural ancient rituals surrounding death -- dressing and viewing the deceased, the celebration of life, the placing of markers at gravesites -- are ways for mourners to participate publicly in moving forward.
The act of memorialization is the first step in a form of forgetting, each distinct practice of mourning being a stylization of a culture's particular needs. In these cases, joining in the online visual culture of mourning appears to play an important role in dealing with survivor guilt, giving internet users a simple way to express their grief. Many of the Facebook and MySpace users changing their profile pictures this week, for example, are not members of the immediate NIU community.
Using corporate language and branding tactics nonetheless may be less than ideal, as it expresses noncommercial mourning and guilt in a readymade language of commodity advertisement. The juxtaposition is at once disconcerting and entirely natural. In the case of the school shootings, the corporate university brands are more than familiar; they are the iconic images of a carefully wrought visual culture of power, strength and courage. On a very basic level, they convey what needs conveying and so they rose to the top of the great mix of our ever-expanding digital raw material.
What is particularly interesting about the Facebook and MySpace community's response to the NIU Shootings is the rapid production of these spaces and user-created media about the shootings. The Facebook group Pray for Northern Illinois University Students and Families was created a mere hour and a half after the shootings occurred and membership rose exponentially, to 103,358 members a mere two days after its inception.
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(Ed's note: This post originally appeared at Grits & Eggs)
Lately, all my bois have started becoming men. In the last few months, four of my closest trans brothers have started their physical transition — through femate-to-make top surgery and testosterone treatment or T. And I'm happy for them. Truly. But as half of me reaches out with open arms and congratulatory remarks, I feel the other half slowly backing out the door.
Why?
Well, I've come to realize that the reasoning involves a touch of jealousy, a bit of alienation, and a whole lot of fear.
Of course there's a part of me that yearns to be them — that wishes that my transition could just as easily include or disregard the rest of my immediate family. And clearly, it's difficult to find myself alone; The guys with whom I shared that scary process of self-unfoldment and coming out now swap stories about hormone shots and post-op delights to which I just can't relate.
But mostly, it's fear. I'm afraid of where our FTM (female-to-male transgender) community is right now. I'm afraid of the casualty with which young guys start hormones and schedule surgery. I'm afraid of how those conversations parallel those around body piercings and new tattoos.
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So I picked up my morning paper this week and saw two prominent stories on the state of Black America according to white people. The first was the usual coverage of Barack Obama, in anticipation of Super Tuesday.
The second, just below the fold, was an utterly disturbing story on a low-income Black community in San Francisco. Obviously written from an ignorant ethnographers point of view, the story was filled with references to cheeto diets and chronic laziness, with the occasional vague reference to 'peripheral' causes like institutional racism and gentrification.
What bothered me most was the writer's claim that "most" of San Francisco never sees this neighborhood unless they're playing golf at the nearby golf course or if they took the wrong exist off the nearby freeway. Based on that account, the archetypal San Francisco resident is probably young, wealthy, white and works for Google. Ugh.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since people of color have been the ethnographic playground for white folks since the days of Sara Baartman. But stories like this still make me cringe, especially in places that pride themselves on being liberal utopias. Perhaps because of all of this, I thoroughly enjoy things that attempt to dissect the interests of white people privilege.
Enter: Stuff white people like, a brilliant blog that takes a witty approach to the scientific study of white people. It has an ongoing list of things that are staples of white American culture, things that include: Top 10 hip hop songs white people love, Whole Foods and Grocery Co-ops, Vintage and Religions their parents don't belong to.
As a true ode to the irony of white privilege, my white friends are obsessed with it. There were, of course, a few angry folks who were all "what if I made a blog that listed all the stuff that Black people like?!" Could it be that in this day and age people of color could still be painted as mere caricatures? Then I thought to myself, that would never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever happen.
Heavy Rotation: The Rise of Filipino Radio Representation
Cassie, that one Asian guy from the Neptunes, the other producer who did that skateboard track for Lupe Fiasco, that main girl from the Pussy Cat Dolls, they're all at least part Filipino, right? Walk into a workshop focused on Filipino-American media representation, and this thin list of musicians would likely be all that the group would generate.
Though, the lack of talent in mainstream music is a result of the Filipino American community getting shafted by clueless A&Rs, radio broadcasters, and all the other corporate types who attempt to dictate what music gets heard. Enter Heavy Rotation, a new online radio show aimed at showcasing Filipino-American talent not given the opportunity by the likes of Clear Channel.
Already two shows recorded since its inception, Heavy Rotation is building itself to be a strong monthly medium exposing listeners to the deep musicianship in the Filipino community. Operating under the mantra, "The rise of Filipino Hip-Hop and R&B," there is an implied attitude that the presence of Filipinos in American pop culture will soon reach a tipping point. Who better to break folks off with the coverage of what could be a new cultural renaissance than a group of youthful individuals who have been working in the industry for some time?
DJ Marlino, nineteen-years thick in the DJ game, decided to set up shop in a small studio in San Diego as a base of operations. Along with co-hosts, Rich, Diane, and Jeff, the crew hopes to use the music to make the show. With much untapped talent yet to be heard by many music fans, the selection of music won't likely get dry any time soon.
Tuning into the two-hour program, sounds of boom-bap resonate from the Upstarts and Son of Ran, bullet-riddled political lyrics from Bambu and Kiwi (members of the now defunct Native Guns), and jazzy grooves from Freddie Joachim and Choice 37 can be heard, along with a hand picked selection of other artists found from Myspace and various cultural festivals. For some, listening to a show can incite thoughts of, "Oh, snap, these cats are actually Filipino?"
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In this day and age, wearing your race and religion on your sleeve has become the current fashion. We identify ourselves as Indian American, Muslim American, Sikh American, African American, Mexican American, and even Hindu American. It's easy to feel left out if you don't have some sort of religious and/or racial tag, because everyone's got one!
A lot of this comes from the ideology of multiculturalism. Remember Multicultural Week in elementary, high school, and college, where we celebrate "diversity"? We're brought up on a diet that America is a "mixed salad:" each of us has a distinct flavor, color, and classification; those of us who are "ethnic" are ingredients that spice things up in this enormous American salad.
Often, this multiculturalism encourages us to publicly display ethnic culture and identity. You know what I'm talking about if you've ever been around a cultural club booth on a college campus. We're taught by well-meaning teachers, friends, and the media that differences exist, and those of us who are not white and Christian can put on a show for everyone else so that they can learn about these differences. But these "differences" are usually superficial, innocuous, and easy to consume: food, dress, and music. Rarely do we actually learn about the politics, history, and social dynamics of a non-US geographical location.
The other source comes from forces beyond us. Consider what happens when there's a major national news event and a nonwhite and non-Christian culprit's race and/or religion is highlighted: The group is singled out, stereotyped, and thrust onto center stage in our media and politics. For instance, Muslim Americans had to make it known that they did not condone 9/11, even though many did not identify as Muslim Americans prior to being actually tagged as such. Korean Americans had to stress that the Virginia Tech shooting appalled them. These events create a modern day piazza where a supposedly homogenous group is branded, scrutinized and tried in full view of the public. Is it any wonder that we feel forced in one way or another to either assert a label and/or defiantly redefine and wear it loud and proud?
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Free Music: Fan Dream or Industry Nightmare?
Free albums are, like, the "in thing" now. It seems like artists of all shapes, genres and record sales are succumbing -- or embracing -- the digital evolution of music and the new ways that internet savvy listeners interact with albums. The timing couldn't be any better for me -- a perpetually broke music head. I spent my college years being late to classes waiting for my barely legal music files to download. After being on the receiving end of dozens of "food-is-more-important-than-music" lectures, I had to take a long, hard look at how much time, money and effort I put into my music collection.
Now it seems like the universe -- and the industry -- are on my side. One of the more glaring examples is Radiohead's latest release In Rainbows, which was available to audiences at a name-your-rate price (read:free) for the first few months after it was released. The album earned widespread acclaim after its initial release on the internet. On average, 38% of people around the globe paid for the album, with people in the U.S paying about $6. The downloads didn't seem to hurt the band too much when, after puling the freebies off internet and putting the CD's in stores, the release ranked as the top selling album in the country. There are other examples, such as so-called underground heavyweight Saul Williams' The Rise and Liberation of Niggy Tardust, Atmosphere's Strictly Leakage and Dahlak's Double Consciousness*. What's behind this sudden recognition of the power of the internet? Is the digital evolution actually winning?
I sat down with Tunji, half of the hip hop duo Inverse, to talk about the matter. The group is based in Los Angeles and recently released their debut album So Far: The Collection for free on New Year's day.
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On October 16, 2007 New Jersey's Eyeball Records released Eyeball Awareness Volume 1, an indie rock music compilation that donated part of its proceeds toward To Write Love On Her Arms, a non-profit group that offers hope and help to young people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. The comp featured tight melodic tracks from Baumer, New Atlantic, Sleep Station, Jettie and others. While Awareness was by no means the only benefit collection released in '07, it capped off a renewed period of aural artist activism.
From Al Gore's Live Earth concerts to smaller events happening at local community and all-ages spaces around the country, to the myriad consciousness-raising albums and comps, bands and musicians are once again on the frontlines of social change making noise and being heard.
In that spirit comes The Green Owl Comp: A Benefit for the Energy Action Coalition, dropping April 8, with proceeds going to a collective that comprises more than 40 organizations from across the U.S. and Canada, founded and led by youth to help support and strengthen the student and youth clean energy movement in North America. New York-based Green Owl is run by musicians Ben Brewer (The Exit, The Appletrees), Ellenike Abreu (The Appletrees) and Stephen Glicken who aim to find ways to present art in a sustainable way. Yeah, it's for a good cause, but is the music hot?
