Scribble and Strum

Hey, all. I'm tired and am about to go to sleep to wake up early to vote before work. Thought I'd pass this email on, since sometimes others can, ahem, represent your feelings better than you can yourself (especially when your eyelids keep closing without your consent). I recently purchased a copy of David Byrne & Brian Eno's new album Everything That Happens Will Happen Today. In order to complete the purchase I had to give them my email address, which is fine and normal; I expect hollers about future music and art projects. Tonight I got this, though, and I thought I'd help spread a word:

Pardon the bulk mailing. I Can't Vote. I am an immigrant with a Green Card and, therefore, I am not eligible to vote in a federal election. FYI - I can get drafted (luckily, Daniel Berrigan burned my draft board's records) and I pay taxes, yet I cannot vote for President. On Election Day, I see my neighbors heading to the nearby elementary school to cast their ballots. The voting booth joint is a great leveler; the whole neighborhood - rich, poor, old, young, decrepit and spunky - they all turn out in one day.

But most of you can vote. What can I say? The Republicans have made us less safe than before 9/11, bankrupted this economy, started an illegal war they can't - and don't intend to - finish, removed what sympathy (after 9/11) and respect the world had for the US, and have robbed US citizens of many of their basic rights. Global warming? What's that? Science and education? Investment in our future? No, thanks - we'll stick with a good 'ole hockey mom. Ignorant, and fucking proud of it, as is always the case.

Although it looks like a shoo-in, it ain't over 'til Florida. And there are plenty of racists in this country who will vote against their own best interests. So please, get to your local elementary school, post office, town hall, or whatever, and cast your vote and make this a country we can all be proud of. We can get out of this mess, and life can be better than it is.

David Byrne
NYC

Well said, Mr. Byrne. That's all. I'm now going to bed to wake up early to vote before work.

'Night.

I can't write much now about the two great Wired articles I read today, so I'll just point you to them. I think you should read these if you care about music and the future of its distribution, or if you're interested in what either of these artists have to say about their experiences with delivering their art.  Especially if you make music, yourself, and want to live by it.

1: David Byrne and Thom Yorke on the Real Value of Music

Byrne: Are you making money on the download of In Rainbows?

Yorke: In terms of digital income, we've made more money out of this record than out of all the other Radiohead albums put together, forever — in terms of anything on the Net. And that's nuts.

2: David Byrne's Survival Strategies for Emerging Artists — and Megastars

What is called the music business today, however, is not the business of producing music. At some point it became the business of selling CDs in plastic cases, and that business will soon be over. But that's not bad news for music, and it's certainly not bad news for musicians.

Yup.

David Byrne, surely an expert, types mightily about the past and possible future of Packaging and Music.

Sunday, I listened to a radio show in which actress Angelica Houston read "Job's Jobs", a beautifully tragic short story written by Aimee Bender. In this modern version of a Christian myth, God is a bully who unrelentingly growls at Job to give up every creative aspect of his existence. In each interval of censorship God shakes a different weapon at him and mutters things like "you'd better, or else…". In tortured cycles of fright and renewal, the dwindling Job gives up medium after medium, each time innocently picking up a new pursuit to anger the Almighty with.

Sadly, Job never fights for his right to create--he only runs from each new threat--and the story ends with him gagged and bound in a dark box, doomed to only think of what he was, to only dream of his universe's muses. When I think of this story's fucker of a God, I can't help but think of my multiple sclerosis, my years fearing it, and what damage I'd inflicted against my own passion to create.

So goes the slow
death of art,
where some power
larger than love
censors one toward
a suicide
of the soul.

But the story is inspiring. We cannot let "Gods" intimidate us. I will not. This really turned me on to Aimee Bender. I'm going to pick up an anthology of hers at some point, if just to reexperience "Job's Jobs".

++--++

David Byrne reviews his recent Hollywood Bowl show in his tour journal:

"It nearly sold out — 17,500 tickets! Holy Moses! Three years ago in L.A. I couldn’t sell out the Palace, which holds just over 1,000. But maybe that’s because the Palace crowd is not my demographic? More likely it’s that factor, combined with the fact that this is a KCRW-produced show, which means they promote the hell out of it on their own station for months prior. Being the best station around means the audience often follows where they lead. Plus maybe I’m being appreciated by a new generation."

I can definitely vouch for that last sentence. There were tons of twentysomethings in the back rows where I was, and quite a few of them recognized his newer material. It must be hard to be someone who can easily be percieved by youngers as an aging rock star, some antiquated artist chained to the charts, a living "greatest hits" album who should pull back from innovation and "stick to what sells". At that concert David wasn't three songs into his set when some drunk guy behind me obnoxiously (and predictably) shouted "Burnin' Down The House!" like some spoiled kid. I'm glad Mr. Byrne saved that for later and "turned it up to 11" with the Extra Action Marching Band. Probably made that frat guy's night to hear his keg party anthem and see cheerleader boobies, and it's great he had to expose himself to new things before he got 'em.

"...the high-priced seats up front, mostly filled with corporate comps, take a long time to react, as expected. No surprise there. They finally get begin moving when I throw in some popular Talking Heads songs (ugh.)"

No need, Mr. Byrne (though I do like them). Ever forward! More! New! Stuff!

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I learned something today: While trying to make some joe-va I dropped the carafe to my coffee maker and shattered it into a million tiny pieces. Okay, about twenty big ones. Then, when I looked over at Black & Decker's website to see how much a replacement coffee pitcher would cost, I found out it ran for $13.99 before shipping. The coffee maker cost twenty bucks. That's just funky. So, we bought a new maker. It looks nice but sucks. Hey, if you'd like a free carafe-less coffeemaker and you're in the Westwood area...

Cantolink:
Mr. David Byrne has set up a webradio station playing music he digs. Inspiring.