Wow. Oh, boy. Five bands on four stages. Simultaneously. How could it fail?
Sunday night’s Grammy’s telecast was the second lowest rated, ever. There are many observations one could make about the Grammy’s, but why bother? Dead people win awards, the best new artist will be forgotten in ten years time, the alternative award is an alternative to nothing, blah, blah, blah.
The real lesson from Sunday is that music is just not a mass medium. Sure, everyone listens to music, but their tastes are personal. Television can pump money into a sitcom or TV cop drama, advertise the program endlessly and showcase it at 9 p.m. Eastern (8, Central and Mountain) and millions of people will watch. Likewise, a big budget Hollywood spectacular will almost always recoup its investment, at least after it’s released in Japan.
But no amount of financing is necessarily going to make a record a mass hit. Most big hits are flukes, capturing a particular moment in time and culture. The “Record Industry” basically pours millions of dollars into the artists who have already sold big, hoping that lightening will strike again. The other, smaller artists are basically loaned money with which to record, promote and tour. If they happen to be this year’s fluke to sell a bunch of records, well, then they get paid.
It’s a lousy system and produces mostly lousy music. Between sticker prices and digital downloads, the “Record Industry” might finally die a merciful death soon, and allow the vast universe of innovative indies the space to pursue their art and provide us all with our own personal “stars.”
I’m happy about this, but I want to take a moment to mourn the eventual loss of one of rock-n-roll’s most entertaining traditions: the song about the record company.
I originally dreamed up this column on Sunday morning, while listening to the Smiths’ swan song, Strangeways, Here We Come, which features the delightful record label kiss-off, “Paint A Vulgar Picture.”
At the record company party
On their hands – a dead star
The sycophantic slags all say :
“I knew him first, and I knew him well”
Re-issue ! Re-package ! Re-package !
Re-evaluate the songs
Double-pack with a photograph
Extra Track (and a tacky badge)
Already, the Smiths had watched their singles, B-sides and album tracks get repackaged for both sides of the Atlantic, but they were yet to witness the post-break-up avalanche of “best-of” collections.
Their label was Sire, and its legendary president was Seymour Stein. Ten years later, Belle and Sebastian recorded a song about Sire’s attempts to sign them to the label, simply called “Seymour Stein.”
Half a world away
Ticket for a plane
Record company man
I won’t be coming to dinner
They didn’t sign with Stein, who famously snatched up the Ramones and Talking Heads in the 70’s. In the 80’s, Stein personally wooed the Replacements to his label. On their Pleased To Meet Me album, the
Mats made fun of how they “fell up” into the major labels.
One foot in the door, the other one in the gutter
The sweet smell that they adore, well I think I’d rather smother
(4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12)
Are you guys still around? (I don’t know)
Whatcha gonna do with your lives? (nothin’!)
The “whoops-are-we-supposed-to-be-taken-seriously-now, indies-to-majors” song is notable sub-genre of the song about the record company that Pavement did justice to on 1994’s “Cut Your Hair,” which, in between its Spinal Tap jokes about their recent drummer switch, observed:
Advertising looks and chops a must
No big hair!!
Songs mean a lot
When songs are bought
Another sub-genre of songs about record labels is the “fuck you” to the record label that just canceled its contract with the band. The classic is the Sex Pistols’ “E.M.I.” with its piss and vinegar take on the first of two labels to drop them before Virgin ultimately released Never Mind the Bollocks.
Don’t judge a book just by the cover
Unless you cover just another
And blind acceptance is a sign
of stupid fools who stand in line like EMI
Twenty years later, Spoon found unexpected pathos in their deceptive A&R man, Ron Laffitte, in “The Agony of Lafitte” (and its B-side, “Lafitte, Don’t Fail Me Now”).
When you do that line tonight
Remember that it came at a stiff price
The daddy of all songs about the record company is actually the B-side to the daddy of all rock-n-roll records, “Satisfaction.” The Rolling Stones’ “Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man” assailed a worthless PR dude in America.
I’m a necessary talent behind every rock and roll band
Yeah, I’m sharp
I’m really, really sharp
I sure do earn my pay
Sitting on the beach every day, yeah
The great irony is if that record’s A-side hadn’t been one of those fluke hits that captured the cultural zeitgeist and convinced the major corporations that music could be big business, well, it would be a curiosity rather than a harbinger.