Joe Lederman of The Dropa Stone Sits in with Albert Castiglia

- Ft. Lauderdale, FL

On Saturday November 28th, 2009, fans and music lovers at Maguires Hill 16, a prominent blues club in Ft. Lauderdale, FL were treated to a one of a kind performance. Famed blues virtuoso guitarist ALBERT CASTIGLIA was joined onstage for his final set of the evening by drummer Joe Lederman of THE DROPA STONE for an inspiring jam session.

Nationally acclaimed and regarded as one of the finest blues guitarists, Albert Castiglia was named “Best Blues Guitarist” by New Times Magazine in 1997 and is a 2009 BLUES MUSIC AWARDS SONG OF THE YEAR NOMINEE. Castiglia shows an expressiveness and originality in approach that identifies him as an emerging star within contemporary blues circles,” said Nashville’s City Paper.

Known for their avant-garde sound and psychedelic blend of rock and blues, The Dropa Stone’s Lederman fused crisply with the Castiglia band and even took off on an impressive drum solo which demonstrated his rock and jazz influences. Lederman just returned from a tour of the west coast where his band, The Dropa Stone performed at the renowned VIPER ROOM in Hollywood, CA.

The trio of Castiglia, Lederman and powerhouse bassist AJ Kelly then took off on a 30 minute encore that saw multiple improvised jams and rocking interpretations of Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition” and the Grateful Dead’s “Fire on the Mountain.”

Check out some fan-shot videos of this performance HERE!

Empire State Building to Get Tie-Dye Lighting in Honor of Grateful Dead

GRATEFUL DEAD TO BE HONORED OCTOBER 19
IN NEW YORK CITY WITH SPECIAL LIGHTING OF
EMPIRE STATE BUILDING IN TIE-DYE COLORS

























BOB WEIR AND PHIL LESH IN MANHATTAN FOR
NEW YORK HISTORICAL SOCIETY FUNDRAISER OCTOBER 21

The Grateful Dead will be honored in New York City this Monday, October 19 when the Empire State Building is lit up with special tie-dye colors celebrating the group’s appearance in the city later that week. The color scheme will represent the group’s iconic imagery and psychedelic influences.

On Wednesday, October 21, Bob and Phil will attend a fundraiser at the New York Historical Society as part of an exhibit celebrating the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame band. The Grateful Dead: Now Playing at the New York Historical Society traces the career and achievements of a band that became one of the significant cultural forces in 20th century America. Through a wealth of original artwork and documents including concert and recording posters, album art, large-scale marionettes and other stage props, banners and decorated fan mail, the exhibition will explore the musical creativity and influence of the Grateful Dead from 1965 to 1995, the sociological phenomenon of the Dead Heads and the enduring impact of the Dead’s pioneering approach to the music business. Materials in the exhibition will be drawn almost exclusively from the extraordinary holdings of the Grateful Dead Archive at the University of California Santa Cruz, established in 2008.

For more information on the NYHS exhibition,CLICK HERE.

Rothbury Festival Live Streaming

For those of us who were not lucky enough to get there this weekend, here is some relief thanks to Rumbum.com. Schedule is below!

http://rumbum.com/sections/54

Friday, July 3

1:45 p.m. - King Sunny Ade - LIVE

2:45 p.m. - Toubab Krewe - LIVE

3:30 p.m. - G. Love and Special Sauce - LIVE

5:00 p.m. - Keller Williams - LIVE

6:30 p.m. - Damian 'Jr. Gong' Marley and NAS - LIVE

8:00 p.m. - Brett Dennen - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 3rd, 2 p.m. Performance)

8:45 p.m. - The String Cheese Incident - LIVE

12:30 a.m. - The Disco Biscuits - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 2nd Performance)
Saturday, July 4

1:30 p.m. - Ralph Stanley - LIVE

2:45 p.m. - Martin Sexton - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 3rd Performance)

3:30 p.m. - Jackie Green - LIVE

4:45 p.m. - Sun Volt - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 4th, 2:30 Performance)

5:30 p.m. - The Black Crowes - LIVE

7:00 p.m. - Railroad Earth - LIVE

8:30 p.m. - John Butler - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 4th, 6:45 Performance)

10:00 p.m. - Lotus - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 2nd Performance)

11:30 p.m. - STS9 - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 3rd Performance)
Sunday, July 5

1:45 p.m. - Toots and Maytals - LIVE

3:00 p.m. - Four Finger Five - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 4th Performance)

3:45 p.m. - Yonder Mountain String Band - LIVE

5:15 p.m. - The Hard Lessons - Delayed from Sherwood (ROTHBURY July 5, 1 p.m. Performance)

6:00 p.m. - Willie Nelson - LIVE

7:30 p.m. - Grace Potter & the Nocturnals - Delayed from Sherwood (ROTHBURY July 5th, 3:45 Performance)

8:45 p.m. - Flogging Molly - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 3rd Performance)

10:00 p.m. - Ani Difrance - Delayed from Sherwood (ROTHBURY July 5th, 7:15 Performance)

11:45 p.m. - Matisyahu - Delayed from Sherwood (ROTHBURY July 5, 5:30 Performance)

1:00 a.m. - Umphrey's McGee - Delayed from Ranch (ROTHBURY July 4th Performance)

THRILLER PRISON STYLE

FULL LINE-UP FOR VOODOO EXPERIENCE TO BE CONFIRMED IN THE COMING WEEKS

Widespread Panic To Play Voodoo Experience

This year, New Orleans residents and music fans traveling from around the world will witness history in the making as acclaimed Athens, GA band Widespread Panic take the stage this Halloween weekend at the Voodoo Experience. Details about Panic's performance will be released in the coming months, while news about the full Voodoo Experience (October 30, 31 and November 1) line-up is scheduled for later this month.

"We have discussed the idea of bringing these two New Orleans Halloween traditions together for years, it only took us 11 years to get it done," says Voodoo Experience founder and producer Stephen Rehage. "Voodoo and Panic kind of grew up together in New Orleans, endured and returned from the storm, so it's special for us to be working together with them."

Widespread Panic's John Bell says, "The Voodoo Experience has been kicking ass for ten years and adding to the spell New Orleans has on the rest of the country and beyond. We're proud to be included in the tradition. Hope it's scary."

The 11th annual Voodoo Experience will once again celebrate music, as well as New Orleans' bohemian culture, arts and cuisine. More than 160 bands will perform in three distinct performance areas - Le Ritual, Le Flambeau and Le Carnival - and eight stages each highlight a unique side of the personality of New Orleans.

For a limited time, three-day weekend tickets are $123, ALL IN with no additional fees; LOA Lounge VIP pass are $396, ALL IN with no additional fees and are available via Ticketmaster.com and the www.thevoodooexperience.com, where you can find further info about this event. - From http://www.jambase.com

http://www.thevoodooexperience.com/2009/

A Change Is Gonna Come

The Inspiration

Playing for Change is a multimedia movement created to inspire, connect, and bring peace to the world through music. The idea for this project arose from a common belief that music has the power to break down boundaries and overcome distances between people. No matter whether people come from different geographic, political, economic, spiritual or ideological backgrounds, music has the universal power to transcend and unite us as one human race. And with this truth firmly fixed in our minds, we set out to share it with the world.
The Production

We built a mobile recording studio, equipped with all the same equipment used in the best studios, and traveled to wherever the music took us. As technology changed, our power demands were downsized from golf cart batteries to car batteries, and finally to laptops. Similarly, the quality with which we were able to film and document the project was gradually upgraded from a variety of formats-- each the best we could attain at the time—finally to full HD.

One thing that never changed throughout the process was our commitment to create an environment for the musicians in which they could create freely and that placed no barriers between them and those who would eventually experience their music. By leading with that energy and intent everywhere we traveled, we were freely given access to musicians and locations that are usually inaccessible. In this respect, the inspiration that originally set us on this path became a co-creator of the project along with us!
The Effect

Over the course of this project, we decided it was not enough for our crew just to record and share this music with the world; we wanted to create a way to give back to the musicians and their communities that had shared so much with us. And so in 2007 we created the Playing for Change Foundation, a separate 501(c)3 nonprofit corporation whose mission is to do just that. In early 2008, we established Timeless Media, a for-profit entity that funds and extends the work of Playing for Change. Later that year, Timeless Media entered into a joint venture with the Concord Music Group through the support of label co-owner and entertainment legend Norman Lear and Concord Music Group executive vice president of A&R John Burk. Our goal is to bring PFC’s music, videos and message to the widest possible audience.

Now, musicians from all over the world are brought together to perform benefit concerts that build music and art schools in communities that are in need of inspiration and hope. In addition to benefit concerts, the Playing for Change band also performs shows around the world. When audiences see and hear musicians who have traveled thousands of miles from their homes, united in purpose and chorus on one stage, everyone is touched by music's unifying power.

And now, everyone can participate in this transformative experience by joining the Playing for Change Movement. People are hosting screenings, musicians are holding benefit concerts of every size, fans are spreading the message of Playing for Change through our media, and this is only the beginning. Together, we will connect the world through music!

http://www.playingforchange.com/

Dinosaur Jr. - Farm - A New Release

The worry about the reunion of the original Dinosaur Jr. line-up, more than 20 years after their formation and legendary dissolution, was that these guys were just flogging the back catalog as a marketing gimmick. With the release of Beyond, in 2007, the band gave a hearty Marshall-driven "F**K YOU!" answer to those inquiring ears. Restoring the sound established by the opening hat-trick gambit of Dinosaur, You're Living All Over Me, and Bug, the Beyond record continued the band's march into rock greatness by making old ears smile and new ears bleed afresh. And now comes Farm , Dinosaur Jr.'s first double LP and their fifth full length record by the original line-up -- J Mascis, Lou Barlow, and Murph -- set to release on their new label home Jagjaguwar on June 23rd.

If Beyond was Dinosaur Jr.'s return to form, Farm is proof that this band continues to deliver that which makes rock worth cranking to 11. At times wholly 70's guitar-epic, at times perfect for sitting by a babbling brook with Joni and Neil, Farm encompasses Dinosaur Jr.'s signature palette - soaring and distorted guitar, unshakable hooks, honey-rich melodies - songs that get into your head and, bouncing around happily, stay there. The ear-catching "Plans" is nearly 7 minutes of classic whipped-topping rock dessert, while "I Don't Wanna Go There" is a meat-and-potatoes main dish, mixing unapologetic lead guitar with straight-ahead delivery a la James Gang or Humble Pie. These two tunes round out twelve tracks propelled by the unique energy of one of America's greatest living rock bands hitting their stride.

Farm was recorded in J Mascis' Bisquiteen studio in Amherst, Massachusetts, and was produced by Mascis.

From: Jambase.com

The Dead Come Back to Life Again in the Obama Age

The band was ahead of its time in many ways
By GREG KOT
Chicago Tribune

The Grateful Dead won't die, in part because their fans – some of whom now work in the White House – won't let them.

The band broke up in 1995 when Jerry Garcia, one of the greatest guitarists of his generation and the Papa Bear of Dead-dom, succumbed to a lifetime of excess. Infighting among the survivors made future collaborations highly unlikely. "It's hard to say goodbye, it's hard to let go, but the page got turned for us," drummer Mickey Hart told the Chicago Tribune a year after the guitarist's death.

But the Dead never went away, sustained by hundreds of archival recordings and a community of fans that stretched into every sector of society – including the administration of President Barack Obama. Two of the president's senior advisers, David Axelrod and Pete Rouse, as well as deputy chief of staff Jim Messina count themselves among the legion of Deadheads.

The Obama team was instrumental in the band's latest comeback as the Dead (no longer "Grateful," alas). The estranged band members were invited to play an Obama rally in Pennsylvania last October, and things went so well that the core surviving members – guitarist Bob Weir, bassist Phil Lesh, drummers Hart and Bill Kreutzmann – decided to keep rolling. They returned to play the Inaugural Ball last Jan. 20 in Washington, D.C., and this month embarked on a 23-date tour. The touring lineup also includes singer-guitarist Warren Haynes (of Gov't Mule and the Allman Brothers Band) and keyboardist Jeff Chimenti (of Weir's band Rat Dog).

After Garcia died, the survivors feuded over everything from digital bootlegging of the band's archives to – what else? – money. A couple of reunions over the last decade, first billed as the Other Ones and then as the Dead, were hits at the box office (a 2003-04 tour raked in $18 million), but did little to quell personal tensions. Now, thanks in part to Obama's efforts, the band is once again hitting the road, including a stop May 9 at the Forum in Inglewood, and tentatively talking about writing new songs.

It remains to be seen if the latest reunion will be about more than just another payday. But what is indisputable is that the Grateful Dead was a band which both embodied its time (the band is practically synonymous with the hippie culture and the psychedelic music that flourished around it in the '60s) and was ahead of it. Long before the Internet was a factor in the way music was made, distributed and marketed, the Dead presaged its impact, and became a model for how bands could thrive in a digital age.

In 1994, technology expert Esther Dyson suggested that the ease with which digital content could be copied and distributed would require a new economic model for copyright-holders. They would have to "distribute intellectual property free in order to sell services and relationships."

No band was better at selling "services and relationships" to its fans than the Grateful Dead, and no band understood better that free distribution of its music could be a pathway to building a bigger, more loyal audience that would reward the band's trust.

Here's how the Dead anticipated the future we now live in during its 1965-1995 life span:

– Free music: The Dead was among the first bands to encourage its fans to tape its concerts and distribute tapes to their fellow Dead-heads worldwide. A specially designated "tapers section" was set up at each show near the sound board, and fans brought increasingly sophisticated gear to document nearly every one of the Dead's 2,000-plus concerts.

– Make the product unique: Garcia expressed disdain for the recording studio countless times – heresy in an era where the studio album became the centerpiece of music culture. Garcia insisted that live performance was the lifeblood of his band's music, and created a template for the jam-band culture. The Dead's studio recordings slowed to a trickle as the decades passed. Instead, the band focused on turning its shows into epic, four-hour must-see events for its followers. The Dead turned touring into an art form, a combination of high-tech ingenuity and grassroots communication. The shows were infamous for their ups and downs, the possibility that the band could fail, but the sense of improvisation and spontaneity became an increasingly alluring alternative, especially in the highly choreographed MTV era. Fans paid to see multiple shows on the same tour, knowing that each would be one-of-a-kind.

– Who needs record companies?: Though the Dead worked with major labels throughout its career, the labels had very little to do with the band's inner workings. The Dead's operation was essentially self-contained, a network of friends and associates from the San Francisco area who assumed various jobs within what would become a highly successful corporation, Grateful Dead Productions. The band's mail-order service and later Web site, deadnet.com, became a gathering place for the Dead's worldwide fan base and sustained the band's legacy long after Garcia's death.

– Sell direct to fans: The Dead released dozens of recordings from a bottomless stash of archives direct to fans, presaging the marketplace experiments of Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails. The Dead released only 13 studio albums in its 30-year lifetime. That relatively paltry number is dwarfed by dozens of live releases, including 36 volumes of the "Dick's Picks" archival series alone. The series was named after archivist Dick Latvala, who ascended from the ranks of the tapers' section in the '70s to become one of the band's most trusted lieutenants. These releases, which were promoted only through the band's mail-order service and (later) Internet site, in many cases exceeded the quality of the band's major-label recordings.

– The band as brand: The Dead dealt not just in T-shirts and hats, but in flip-flops and golf gloves. Frisbees, mugs, bar stools and license-plate frames. Key chains, a board game and socks. Magnets, patches and pins. Baby-clothes "onesies," hoodies and a miniature pyramid. The band also spawned a cottage industry of books, DVD's and even a syndicated radio show ("The Grateful Dead Hour"). The Dead became synonymous not just with a style of a music or a certain era, but with a way of life that transcended generations.

– Remix, remake, reinvent: Were the Dead the first modern rock band? Like all artists, the Dead borrowed freely from the music and traditions that preceded them. But a strong case could be made that no band worked with a wider palette or blended the colors more audaciously. By constantly reinventing itself through its music, the band remained relevant across the decades. Under the rubric of "American music," the Dead mixed blues, country, folk, early rock 'n' roll, jazz, experimental and even classical music into a fluid framework built not only on deep knowledge of the past but a mischievous desire to reshape it. The band improvised its way through thousands of shows, and suggested that songs were not immutable artifacts, but organic entities that could be bent, folded and occasionally mutilated to suit the needs of the moment. In this respect, they anticipated the mix-and-match styles that would surface and flourish in the last few decades, from the cut-and-paste approach of hip-hop and collage artists such as Girl Talk, to the recombinant rock of Beck and the Flaming Lips. John Oswald's 1995 studio manipulation of multiple incarnations of the Dead's epic song "Dark Star" on the album "Grayfolded" is among the first widely recognized mash-ups.

Four Dead In Ohio

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Today is the anniversary of the Kent State (OH) Massacre. David Crosby says he and Neil Young were together when he wrote the song. According to Crosby it was when he and Young first heard about the shootings at Kent State. Neil Young became furious and started playing his guitar and wrote the song on the spot. "Tin soldiers and Nixon's coming...."



Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago.
What if you knew her
And found her dead on the ground
How can you run when you know?

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming,
We're finally on our own.
This summer I hear the drumming,
Four dead in Ohio.

Jimmy Herring: Don't Say No

Superheroes don't always look super in their day-to-day lives. Case in point, Jimmy Herring, a quiet, perfectly gracious Southern man, who'll shake your hand and let you yack his ear off longer than he probably should. In short, the definition of mild mannered, but put an electric guitar in his hands and he is transformed into an octopus-fingered, quicksilver smooth marvel, notes gleaming as bright as the Silver Surfer as he blows your hair back with studied grace.

The first time I saw Herring perform was with Aquarium Rescue Unit at the 1993 H.O.R.D.E. tour. A sparse crowd at the amphitheatre sat mostly bemused by the instrument de-tuning, Zappa-esque strangeness mucking up their afternoon, but a handful of us were crouched at the lip of the stage, rapt with honest wonder. After one especially gnarly-beautiful solo, I actually bowed down in front of Herring in full "I'm not worthy" Wayne-and-Garth mode. Meant it, too. And the intervening 16 years have only seen him harness that wild brilliance into some of the sharpest, most technically exacting yet massively satisfying guitar work of the past few decades. Without overt hype, it's clear to anyone who's been paying attention to Herring's playing with luminaries like Phil Lesh & Friends, the Allman Brothers Band and especially in recent times with Widespread Panic that he's well on his way to joining the highly exclusive six-string pantheon of Al Di Meola, Jeff Beck, Eric Johnson and the rest of the Guitar Player magazine cover boys. However, Herring seems to be making his ascension sans the usual ego, showiness and self-indulgence that often mar otherwise fabulous players. With him, we get the best parts of Clark Kent and Superman, and wowee zowee is it a sweet combination.

Last October, Herring released his first solo album, Lifeboat (read the review here), and has begun touring behind the material as a headliner for the first time in his career, which stretches back to the late '80s. The core band on the all-instrumental Lifeboat is comprised of Herring (guitar), Oteil Burbridge (bass), Jeff Sipe (drums) and Kofi Burbridge (piano, flute), who are bolstered by quality guest spots from Derek Trucks, Bobby Lee Rodgers (Codetalkers), Ike Stubblefield and sax great Greg Osby. Full of strut and fusion-dude complexity, the album also reveals a real gift for melody and band leadership that his more rock-oriented fare hasn't shown quite as clearly. Lifeboat skips wonderfully, while also taking time to pull us in close occasionally. Confident, fun and masterfully played, it's a great solo debut and JamBase was anxious to hear about its creation and explore some of his rich history.

JamBase: You're at a point in your career where you could potentially do just about anything.

Jimmy Herring: Only thing is I wish I was more free so I could do more, but I'm just no good at trying to do ten things at once. I'm just blessed all the way around. I can't complain about anything. I wish I didn't have to sleep [laughs]. Then, we could do a LOT of stuff.

JamBase: I'm with you on that. I sometimes resent having to sleep. It's positive, in a way, when one is so into what they're doing that they don't want to stop. A lot of folks don't want to get out of bed in the morning.

Jimmy Herring: I feel that way sometimes, too [laughs]. But, you do what you choose to do, and I know for me, personally, that if I try to do too much at once something's going to suffer. And all of it is so important to me that I don't want any of it to suffer.

And you've got two major mainstays going with the solo record and tour and Widespread keeping you busy. Part of what I love about Panic is that it's this big trundling monstrosity that could come off the rails any minute.

Yeah, man, and they're such good people. I've known them since '89, and they've always been such a classy organization. They're always trying to help as many people as they can and they're just wonderful people. So, when they called me I said, "You just tell me what you need."

When I was talking to Luther Dickinson last year about learning the Crowes songbook, you came up. Luther said, "It's nothing compared to what Jimmy has to learn in Panic."

Well, Luther will say that but Luther can do anything. He's fabulous, and it couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.

Let's talk about Lifeboat. Why do you think it took you so long to have an album with the name 'Jimmy Herring' on the front?

Well, I'm trying to think of a good reason and I don't really have one [laughs]. Music is a collaborative effort, in my view. Sure, you can have somebody write a tune but what people play on it is them. I can remember this situation where I was sort of the front of the band I was in when I was a kid, and it puts a lot of pressure on you to be the guy that has to say, "Hey do this" or "Hey do that." Being a bandleader comes with responsibility and it can put you in a situation where you're not the nicest person in the band. I'm not sure that's the right way to put it but I just didn't want to be a bandleader. Plus, I feel like I can work for other people better than working for myself.

I fully get not wanting to be the guy who says, "You're fired," especially to someone who's been bunking three-feet above you for months.

Exactly! That's big right there. Also, I just seem to be better at working for other people. I'm not a prolific writer. I can write songs but I throw most of them out because they sound like something I've heard. When I'm composing I'm trying to do something I know wasn't just stolen from someone else.

I think Lifeboat is very striking in that way because it sounds very little like any of your earlier work.

That was a conscious effort, but it wasn't just that. I wanted to work with Jeff, Oteil and Kofi, who I've been playing with for 20 years on and off, and we'd never done anything like this before, but we could have [laughs]. We've done things like this for other people but the times we'd played together it was mostly improvisational things, which is all good – I wanted that to be a factor in this music, too – but, to me, in great music the solos are just part of it, not the main focus.

Lifeboat strikes me a lot like Jeff Beck's early solo albums, where there's immediacy of playing but also real compositional acumen.

Thank you very much! That's one of the things I was shooting for. When we started playing together – Jeff, Oteil, Kofi and myself – we were fusion heads. We were into anything from Weather Report to the Dixie Dregs – one of my favorite bands – to Mahavishnu Orchestra and the bands that Miles Davis had. And Allan Holdsworth is my all-time fave. He's in a class by himself, and I'm just happy to be in there somewhere [laughs]. He's somebody I have the utmost respect for. Both he and the Dregs, too, battled uphill struggles for years, being told by everybody, "You can't do this." They told the Dregs, "You can't have an instrumental rock band. It just won't work." And Holdsworth was always being told no, too, by record company people and such, but in the '80s Eddie Van Halen discovered Holdsworth and [Eddie] was the biggest guitar player on the planet at the time. He started telling anybody who'd listen, "If you think I'm good then you have to hear Allan Holdsworth. He's doing things that I couldn't even dream of." He got him a record deal, and if Holdsworth had wanted to get rich he could have. He's one of the few true masters that we have. He doesn't think so but the people who listen know. I stayed away from listening to him for years [to avoid being overly influenced by him]. He's one of my favorite musicians, period, and the guitar just happens to be what he plays.

What's always gotten me about Holdsworth is the general musicality that transcends his instrument. I think the first time I ever heard him was the Jean-Luc Ponty album Enigmatic Ocean, which sent me spiraling. It was an awakening that music doesn't need to be a genre card in a record bin.

His cuts on that album are just devastating! That album changed my life, too. And those guys just did it their way and I really respect them for it.

Do you feel your own career has followed a similar path?

No, not necessarily [laughs]. I've been lucky. I come from rock 'n' roll, that's my background. That's where I started and the music that made me want to pick up a guitar isn't the kind of stuff we've been talking about. I didn't hear that until I was older and had been playing, and it changed my direction almost immediately. Actually, the first thing it did was depress me and make me think, "Why am I even bothering to play when people can play like that?" But, I had good family members that encouraged me, and, even though I didn't believe it, they kept at me, telling me I could. Eventually, I started to try and I'm still not at a point where I feel I can play that music, but it gave me the desire to keep going and progress and not just be happy playing one thing.

I don't think you could find two more diverse projects than Lifeboat and what you do in Panic.

Remember back in the '70s – and I don't personally remember this but I was told about it – Bill Graham would put Miles Davis and the Steve Miller Band on the same stage. I miss Bill Graham so bad.

Festivals are the closest we come to this active blurring of styles but even given the opportunity many or even most folks will still fill their dance card with known things of a similar bent. But, when you put divergent artists on the same stage on the same night it actually changes how you hear music. I love that blurring of lines, which I think you've done a number of times, like with Jazz Is Dead, who took songs I thought I knew by the Dead and turned them on their ear.

That was an incredible experience. I got to work with legends, complete icons in my mind - T [Lavitz, keys] was in the Dixie Dregs, Alphonso [Johnson, bass] was in Weather Report and Billy [Cobham, drums] was in Mahavishnu Orchestra. Then, when Billy had left and Rod Morgenstein [Dixie Dregs] came in it was great, too.

I've been very blessed. First, I got to play in this band with Bruce [aka Col. Bruce Hampton] and then I get a call out of left field for the Jazz Is Dead thing. Then, the Allman Brothers thing was a shock, especially with Dickey [Betts] still around and playing so well. There have been things that have come along that I've had to work hard at because I wasn't too familiar with the music, like playing Dead tunes. But, we weren't playing them like the Dead, so I could just play 'em like I do.

Jazz Is Dead was a potent reminder that the Dead's compositions are really flexible.

They are! And I learned even more about that when I got the chance to play with Phil [Lesh]. That's one of the best bands I've ever had the pleasure of playing in. Phil really worked on getting us to play together. His thing was not having solos. He doesn't even like the word 'solo.' I used to call it "the s-word" as a joke. In his mind – and it's the most beautiful philosophy – music is a communal thing. And a 'solo' indicates being single, by yourself, and that's not the way he likes to view it, which is one huge group conversation. Warren [Haynes] and I were both coming from a school where when it was your turn you stepped up to play and that was how it worked. Then, when we started playing with Phil he didn't want any solos, per se. He wants you to chip away at your individual personalities and give something to the collective.

Exactly! He would put it like we were a school of fish or flock of birds, and sometimes you're the first in the group, up front, and other times you're in the middle, and other times still you're bringing up the rear. He's an incredible individual. I learned a lot from playing with him. We used to call it "P.L.U." – Phil Lesh University.

Moving onto Widespread, there's a perception amongst some Panic fans that you kind of saved that band. Are you at all aware of this notion? There was a feeling amongst a share of the hardcores that George McConnell wasn't working out and the days of their favorite band might be numbered.

I've been approached by people who've said similar things and it's very sweet of them to say that, but it's not true. Widespread could have gotten anybody, man. But, the kind of people they are they didn't go out looking for the bitchinest guitar player. That's not what they do. With them it's people first, and it's a testament to them as people. George was their friend and I'm sure they gave it a try. I think they still love George, and I like him a lot, too. I haven't seen him in a long time but I knew him before he played with Widespread.

To me, you can love someone to death but they may not be compatible with what you do. Chemistry is important. A band is a rare thing nowadays, and a band relies on chemistry. You can put a group of musicians together and play gigs down at the club or anywhere, and you can play someone else's music and just have fun. But Widespread is a band in the truest sense. They're a band in the way Led Zeppelin was a band. I don't compare them to Led Zeppelin musically but in terms of dynamics, compatibility, etc. They have a different way of doing things. Look at what happened when John Bonham died. Sure, they could have gotten anybody – somebody who played just like John Bonham or somebody different but a great drummer. But they knew they couldn't replace Bonzo. And my point is only this: It's a touchy thing to replace an original member of a band.

And there are few more beloved musicians than Michael Houser.

Poor George, he had to go in right after Mikey died. I was able to walk in four years later. That made it a LOT easier, and meant a lot less pressure on me than there was for George. Plus, I had the added advantage of knowing those guys since '89 and we've played a lot of shows together. I didn't have all their records but I'd heard them a lot. And those guys came to see Aquarium Rescue Unit in some bar with no cover charge and 99-cent beers. They just stumbled in one night and heard the band play, and stuck around for a long time. None of us knew them but they were already selling out three nights at the Center Stage Theatre in Atlanta. And they said, "You guys gotta come play with us! Are you on tour?" And we just laughed and said, "No, Bruce won't let us tour. He says we can't handle it." So, they put us in a position where we could go out and open for them.

What was the atmosphere like behind Lifeboat? Was a lot of it done live-in-the-studio?

Yeah, though there were a fair amount of overdubs primarily because everybody couldn't be there at the same time. And there's also some overdubbing I just wanted to do.

Hey if Jimmy Page can play eight guitars on a track why can't Jimmy Herring?

Ha, ha, right! I've always been told "no" and this was my "I'm not going to be told no by anyone" record. I just wanted to see what would happen, and I didn't have to answer to anyone. There's still some things I wish I could have done differently, but this is what it is. We did the basic tracks at Jeff Bakos' studio in Atlanta. Me, Sipe, Oteil and Kofi played live, and Matt Slocum [keys] played live on a few tracks. Of course, Osby wasn't there, Derek wasn't there, and I had to do some overdubs because the studio wouldn't let me use my favorite amp because we already had drums and bass and piano in the same room. Oteil's amp was in a different room and Kofi's piano was going directly into the board, but we still couldn't have a loud guitar amp in the same room. So, I had to borrow one from the studio that was a beautiful little amp but it's got cone cry in the speaker. It destroyed almost all my live tracks. We'd be there listening, thinking, "This is pretty damn good. We might be able to release some of this shit," and then all of the sudden that horrible sound would come and I'd be like, "Damn cone cry!" Tone Tubby speakers don't do that.

Well, Jeff Beck overdubbed a lot of his guitar work on Blow By Blow and Wired, so no harm, no foul in my book.

Most people make records that way. In rock & roll, people may play live [in the studio] but don't intend to keep it beyond getting the drum track. Once they have that, they redo the bass and then keyboards and guitars. But, all those Jazz Is Dead records are live and hell, most of the records I've done have been live. So, I wanted to do some different things, experiment and learn to use the studio.

You're the producer on this record and it's different being in charge of twirling the knobs.

I wanted to make a record where no one was going to say, "No." It was going to be up to me, and it was the first time ever. So, when you ask why it took so long maybe it's because this is the first time I've had that opportunity.

There's some real sweetness to this record that people may not have heard in your playing before, and certainly a sophisticated compositional side that's coming forward for the first time. "Lifeboat Serenade" is gorgeous with a Beatles quality to it.

We definitely talked about The Beatles in the chord progression. I wasn't thinking of a particular Beatles tune but more the feel. I've been very blessed and gotten to hang around a lot of great songwriters, and maybe some of their greatness rubbed off on me [laughs]. I had some discoveries that helped me find new ways of looking at music and help me write more music. One day I'm going to do an album where I write everything. I was trying to do that with this but I just didn't have enough [laughs]. I had two more tunes but I threw 'em away because they didn't measure up.

Those two songs from Kofi ["Only When It's Light" and "Splash"] on the album he wrote in the 10th grade! Kofi was a prodigy, a composer and a great flute player from a very young age. I met him in 1986, and two weeks later Kofi and Oteil moved into Jeff's [Sipe] house as roommates. So, those tunes have been laying around a long time. I remember playing "Only When It's Light" in 1986 but not feeling completely capable of it. I'm still in awe of the harmonies and chord progression in it.

The challenge in instrumental music is telling a story but without the benefit of words. Otherwise, it's just a variation on bebop, where you state the theme, move through a series of solos and then restate the head. It's such well-worn territory.

There's some of that on the record in honor of tradition like the Wayne Shorter tune ["Lost"], but not a lot. He's my favorite jazz composer, if I had to pick one. He just has a way with writing, and his playing is at the top. He seems to be open to all music. He was in Weather Report and some people viewed that as a rock band. We know it as jazz but they reached a rock audience.

Tell us a little bit about the Lifeboat Tour.

Who's touring is Jeff and Oteil but we couldn't get Kofi because he's on the road with Derek's band. We got Scott Kinsey, who mastered the record and played in Tribal Tech. He's like, for lack of a better way of describing him if you haven't heard him, a modern day Joe Zawinul. He's incredible. And then we have Greg Osby coming out. That's the first leg, and the second leg Oteil can't do because he's got his trio with Bill Kreutzmann doing some gigs in June. So, we got Matt Garrison, and he's brilliant.

Written by Dennis Cook for Jambase.com

Review: The Dead | 04.12.09 | Greensboro

Words & Images by: Stratton Lawrence
The Dead :: 04.12.09 :: Greensboro Coliseum :: Greensboro, NC
from Jambase.com

Reunion and rebirth may mark 2009 in the annals of history, both in our music culture and within greater society. Hampton brought new Phish energy (read up on that here), and the gathering of friends (many new to the experience) felt like the start of something wholly new. That's not necessarily what folks expected at The Dead, who hadn't toured in five years and were debuting a slightly new lineup.



"This is what it's all about," said 'Papa Bear' during Set One's "He's Gone," grinning his incredibly Jerry-like smile in the seat behind me. The man had a tattoo of Garcia on his arm, a contagious positive energy to his demeanor and a pair of binoculars he handed me to closely inspect the happenings on stage. "They're just an extension of your eyes," he clarified to my glazed over friends.

The Greensboro crowd was an even mix of old and young free spirits, 9-to-5ers donning their old tie-dyes and the expected contingent of ratty wooks. One car blasted RJD2, another MOFRO. The lot felt like a gathering of all hippie/jam/positive/conscious factions of our music loving society.

And it was the tour's first show. How would Warren Haynes fit in without Jimmy Herring by his side? Would they pull some old favorites from the vault? Would they let things get weird?

It was clear from the first strains of the opener that thought had gone into choosing a set list. "The Music Never Stopped" was a fitting kickoff to a show whose songs played out as perfectly as Phish's epic set lists a month prior. "Jack Straw" and a wah-heavy "Estimated Prophet" played out at over ten minutes each, but without much deviation from the musical themes. The band sounded tight, hiccupping here and there, but holding their own as a cohesive unit.

The first real highlight came in "He's Gone," during the relaxed, staggered harmonies of "nothing's gonna bring him back." The same man was on everyone's mind as Lesh, Weir and Haynes jammed vocally on the refrain, while the crowd roared in approval. The Dead's lyrics gain new flavors and poignancy with age, and the band seemed to take that into account throughout the set. "He's Gone" was followed nicely with the "I will get by" sing-along refrain from "Touch of Grey."

Set One ended with a rather straightforward, short rendition of "I Need A Miracle" (including awesome lead work from Haynes) and a "Truckin'" solid in its delivery but a bit lackluster in its outro jam. At about an hour and twenty minutes, the set was clean-cut and concise. A few segues could have included cleaner transitions (lots of nearly complete pauses in the music), but no one was complaining. The band sounded good - certainly better than any of the other thousand bands out there playing the same songs these days.

After set break, the group emerged loosened up and ready to do some trip traveling. Returning to the stage with several minutes of meandering noodling, the band soon featured Haynes with "Shakedown's" first booming chords. "Maybe you had too much too fast," sang Haynes to a crowd that likely included many veterans enjoying their first psychedelic experience in some time. The audience roared in knowing acknowledgement.

By the end of "Shakedown Street," it was evident that Haynes (as he was five years ago) is still the perfect fit for the band. The man knows a thing or two about filling shoes, having served as the Allman Brothers' provider of blazing rocket fuel for two decades. The dirty/smooth guitar licks he laid into the subsequent "All Along the Watchtower" showed Haynes to be the key ingredient The Dead needs to avoid becoming a cover band of their former selves.

Over twenty minutes of "Drums" and "Space" followed a "Caution" highlighted by Lesh's spooky walking bass line, showing The Dead have rediscovered their comfort zones in freeform improvisation. As "Space" should be, looking around the room at slack-jawed faces, no one knew what was going on.

Any band that can explore aimlessly on stage for twenty minutes while a sold out crowd of 18,000 listen in wide-eyed amazement is fortunate. The Dead practically invented 'space' and they use it well. Leaving the lengthy mind-trip with the classic "Cosmic Charlie" had the crowd moving again. "New Potato Caboose" was a fun and much-appreciated classic from the early days, before transitioning smoothly into an epic "Help On the Way" > "Slipknot!" > "Franklin's Tower" package. No notes were taken at this point - only ecstatic dancing.

The "Samson and Delilah" encore rang as a perfect cap to Easter night. Lesh's appeal to the audience to become organ donors seemed all the more appropriate on the holiday, closing a concert that glowed with the sensation of rebirth.

Jerry Garcia left behind big shoes. In the 14 years since his death, the various reincarnations amongst the Grateful Dead's surviving members have been enjoyable, but perhaps, at times, lacking in a unified spirit. The 2009 version of The Dead seems genuinely promising.

Looking down at Greensboro Coliseum from the nosebleeds, the corn-rows of seats on the floor seemed a bit odd. With everyone assigned to a seat, wandering through the crowd and enjoying the scene from anywhere but your designated seat wasn't possible. Security was a bit much at times, scurrying dancers out of aisles and into the seats. But The Dead's fan base, while growing and gaining young blood, is also aging. Many likely prefer the knowledge of having a seat and not having to push and shove to a view.

Kudos to the Greensboro Police Department for allowing the lot's 'Shakedown' to carry on late into the evening. Those unable to drive or traveling in buses and RVs were even permitted to spend the night in the parking lot - a very welcome invitation indeed. All things considered, The Dead still provide one of the grandest, most amazing experience for fans to trip out in because of they're willingness to push it so close to the edge that at times they stumble (like they say when you're skiing, skating or surfing, "If you aren't falling down you aren't trying hard enough"), and they're also able to still take old songs to entirely new places. Greensboro demonstrated that they'll never become a tribute band - the songs sounded fresh and exciting. They still know how to get you hopelessly lost in the music, but more importantly, they haven't forgotten how to bring you home.

The Dead :: 04.12.09 :: Greensboro Coliseum :: Greensboro, NC
Set I: Jam > The Music Never Stopped, Jack Straw, Estimated Prophet > He's Gone > Touch Of Grey > I Need A Miracle > Truckin'
Set II: Jam > Shakedown Street > All Along The Watchtower > Caution (Do Not Step On The Tracks) > Drums > Space > Cosmic Charlie, New Potato Caboose > Help On The Way > Slipknot! > Franklin's Tower
Encore: Donor Rap Samson & Delilah

The Dead are on tour now, next show is Friday night in Albany, NY. Complete dates available here.

Order the show for Download on LiveDownloads.com.

THUNDER ROAD

The screen door slams
Mary' dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch
As the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that's me and I want you only
Don't turn me home again
I just can't face myself alone again
Don't run back inside
Darling you know just what I'm here for
So you're scared and you're thinking
That maybe we ain't that young anymore
Show a little faith there's magic in the night
You ain't a beauty but hey you're alright
Oh and that's alright with me

You can hide 'neath your covers
And study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers
Throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain
For a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I'm no hero
That's understood
All the redemption I can offer girl
Is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now ?
Except roll down the window
And let the wind blow
Back your hair
Well the night's busting open
These two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back
Heaven's waiting on down the tracks
Oh-oh come take my hand
We're riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh-oh Thunder Road oh Thunder Road
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it's late we can make it if we run
Oh Thunder Road sit tight take hold
Thunder Road

Well I got this guitar
And I learned how to make it talk
And my car's out back
If you're ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door's open but the ride it ain't free
And I know you're lonely
For words that I ain't spoken
But tonight we'll be free
All the promises'll be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes
Of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road
In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they're gone
On the wind so Mary climb in
It's town full of losers
And I'm pulling out of here to win

Beastie Boys: Paul’s Boutique: 20th Anniversary Edition

I'll never forget the moment I first heard Paul's Boutique . It was the fall of 1989 and my first semester as a high school sophomore. After English class one day, one of my friends produced a red cassette tape and declared it to be the best hip-hop album he had ever heard. That red tape was Paul's Boutique by Beastie Boys. "These are the same guys who did that stupid 'Fight For Your Right To Party' song?" I quipped skeptically right before I put my Walkman headphones on and was literally blown away by the pastiche of sounds, stories and urban-psychedelic imagery that swirled around in my head. Songs like "Egg Man," "Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun," "Car Thief," "Shadrach" and "High Plains Drifter" created a beautifully shot panoramic view of the corner of Rivington and Ludlow on the Lower East Side that unfolded before my eyes, a sorrowful but comfortable nostalgic snapshot of that neighborhood two decades before the trust fund brats moved in and chased out all the starving artists with their blue condos, Thai restaurants and American Apparel shops. To this day, I still hear stuff I didn't hear in previous listens thanks to The Dust Brothers' masterfully dense production, which, for my money, is more White Album than Sgt. Pepper by an avenue (in fact, their fusion of the Fab's "Back in the USSR," "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" and its subsequent reprise, "The End," and "When I'm Sixty-Four" remains possibly the best flow of samples in hip-hop history).

Paul's Boutique remains the Beastie Boys' unheralded masterpiece, as they arguably only managed to release one more album on par with the brilliance they displayed in '89 four years later on 1992's organic return to their punk roots, Check Your Head , before falling off a creative cliff with a string of subpar releases that all failed to capture the majesty of their sophomore classic. This 20th anniversary remaster, outside of sounding a whole lot better and splitting up the "B-Boy Bouillabaisse" the way the Beasties originally intended, leaves much to be desired, especially considering the veritable wealth of b-sides on the album's rare coinciding EPs, Love, American Style and An Evening At Home With Shadrach, Meshach And Abednego, which would have made this reissue far more valuable to collectors had they been tacked on as a bonus disc or something. Nevertheless, for those of us who have slept a hot minute on revisiting Paul's Boutique in recent years, this new edition is like a welcome visit from an old friend. You know, the one who got you into punk rock, Zapp and Roger, Johnny Cash and sinsemilla.

Written by: Ron Hart
JamBase
Go See Live Music!

On My Mind: The State of the Music Business

By John Mellencamp

Over the last few years, we have all witnessed the decline of the music business, highlighted by finger-pointing and blame directed against record companies, artists, internet file sharing and any other theories for which a case could be made. We've read and heard about the "good old days" and how things used to be. People remember when music existed as an art that motivated social movements. Artists and their music flourished in back alleys, taverns and barns until, in some cases, a popular groundswell propelled it far and wide. These days, that possibility no longer seems to exist. After 35 years as an artist in the recording business, I feel somehow compelled, not inspired, to stand up for our fellow artists and tell that side of the story as I perceive it. Had the industry not been decimated by a lack of vision caused by corporate bean counters obsessed with the bottom line, musicians would have been able to stick with creating music rather than trying to market it as well.

During the late 80s and early 90s the industry underwent a transformation and restructured, catalyzed by three distinct factors. Record companies no longer viewed themselves as conduits for music, but as functions of the manipulations of Wall Street. Companies were acquired, conglomerated, bought and sold; public stock offerings ensued, shareholders met. At this very same time, new Nielsen monitoring systems -- BDS (Broadcast Data Systems) and SoundScan were employed to document record sales and radio airplay. Prior to 1991, the Billboard charts were done by manual research; radio stations and record stores across the country were polled to determine what was on their playlists and what the big sellers were. Thus, giving Oklahoma City, for example, an equivalent voice to Chicago's in terms of potential impact on the music scene. BDS keeps track of gross impressions through an encoded system that counts the number of plays or "spins" that a song receives. That number is, thereafter, multiplied by the number of potential listeners. SoundScan was put in place at retail centers to track sales by monitoring scanned barcodes of units crossing the counter. A formula was devised whereby the charts were based 20% on the SoundScan number and 80% on BDS results. The system had changed from one that measured popularity to one that was driven by population.

Record companies soon discovered that because of BDS, they only needed to concentrate on about 12 radio stations; there was no longer a business rationale for working secondary markets that were soon forgotten -- despite the fact that these were the very places where rock and roll was born and thrived. Why pay attention to Louisville -- worth a comparatively few potential listeners -- when the same one spin in New York, Los Angeles or Atlanta, etc., was worth so many more potential listeners? All of a sudden there were #1 records that few of us had ever heard of. At the time we asked ourselves, "Am I out of touch?" We didn't realize that this was the start of change that would grow to kill, if not the whole of the music business, then most certainly, the record companies.

Reagan's much-vaunted trickle-down theory said that wealth tricked down to the masses from the elite at the top. Now we've found out that this is patently untrue -- the current economic collapse reflects this self-serving folly. The same holds for music. It doesn't trickle down; it percolates up from the artists, from word of mouth, from the streets and rises up to the general populace. Constrained by the workings of SoundScan/BDS, music now came from the top and was rammed down people's throats.

Early in my career, I wrote and recorded a song called "I Need A Lover" that was only played on just one radio station in Washington, DC the first week it came out. Through much work from local radio reps at the record company, the song ended up on thousands of radio stations. Sing the chorus of "I Need A Lover." It's not the best song I ever wrote nor did it achieve more than much more than being a mid-chart hit, but nevertheless, you can sing that chorus. Now sing the chorus of even one Mariah Carey song. Nothing against Mariah, she's a brilliantly gifted vocalist, but the point here is the way that the songs were built -- mine from the ground up, hers from the top down.

By 1997, consumers, now long uninvolved, grew passive, radio stations had to change formats. Creative artistry and the artists, themselves, were now of secondary importance, taking a back seat to Wall Street as the record companies were going public. The artists were being sold out by the record companies and forced to figuratively kiss the asses of their corporate overlords at the time these record companies went public. In essence, the artists were no longer the primary concern; only keeping their stockholders fat and happy and "making the quarterly numbers" mattered; the music was an afterthought.

Long-tenured employees of these companies were sacrificed in the name of profitability and the culture of greed was burned into the brains of even the most serious music lovers. It seemed that paying attention sales, who had the #1 record from one week to next, and who fell or rose on the charts was all that validated music.

One of my best friends in life was Timothy White who had been the editor of Crawdaddy, then Rolling Stone and, finally, Billboard. As a music critic, he championed singers, songwriters and musicians of all stripes. He was a music lover, beloved in the industry and by artists. Timothy, as many of you know, died suddenly, at the age of 50, waiting for an elevator at Billboard's office in New York. Artists including Don Henley, Brian Wilson, Sheryl Crow, James Taylor, Jimmy Buffett, Roger Waters, Sting and me thought so much of him that two sold-out concerts -- one in Boston and one at Madison Square Garden -- were produced to raise money to support his widow, Judy, and family that includes their autistic son. Each of you, who care enough to read this, should ask yourself if people would be there to celebrate your life so lovingly as this.

In the early 90s, Tim started talking to me about the new service called SoundScan. Then the editor of Billboard, he was leery about the whole idea, realizing its potential to turn the record business upside down. He was pressured by his boss, publisher Howard Lander, who had warned that if Billboard didn't buy into SoundScan, its competitor, Hits, would become the premier music industry trade magazine. I remember performing at a City of Hope benefit dinner in 1996 where he and I argued with Howard on the pitfalls of SoundScan and BDS and how there would be consequences that would not be good for the music business once it was embraced. It was a very unpleasant evening.

Let's pause here to note that the record business has always been known for its colorful characters like Colonel Tom Parker, Ahmet Ertegun, John Hammond, etc. The most important thing is that different artists were able to express themselves in ways that were uniquely original, expressing their hopes and disappointments. That kind of artistic diversity and the embrace of eccentricity made the recording business great. It also made the record business horrifying in some ways. Look at what happened at Stax Records where financial finagling and skullduggery brought a great enterprise to a screeching halt that ended so many brilliant careers.

During the time of the upheaval wrought by SoundScan, BDS and the "Wall Streeting" of the industry, country music seized the opportunity and tacitly claimed the traditional music business. Country has come to dominate the heartland of America, a landscape abandoned or ignored by the gatekeepers of rock and pop. Great new country music stars came from seemingly nowhere to grow to tremendous popularity; think Garth Brooks.

While all this was going on, technology, just as it always does, progressed. That which, by all rights, should have had a positive impact for all of us -- better sound quality, accessibility, and portability -- is now being blamed for many of the ills that beset the music business. The captains of the industry it seemed, proved themselves incapable of having a broader, more long-range view of what this new technology offered. The music business is very complicated in itself so it's understandable that these additional elements were not dealt with coherently in light of the distractions that abound. Not understanding the possibilities, they ignorantly turned it into a nightmarish situation. The nightmare is the fact that they simply didn't know how to make it work for us.

The CD, it should be noted, was born out of greed. It was devised to prop up record sales on the expectation of people replenishing their record collections with CDs of albums they had already purchased. They used to call this "planned obsolesce" in the car business. Sound quality was supposed to be one of the big selling points for CDs but, as we know, it wasn't very good at all. It was just another con, a get-rich-quick scheme, a monumental hoax perpetrated on the music consuming public.

These days, some people suggest that it is up to the artist to create avenues to sell the music of his own creation. In today's environment, is it realistic to expect someone to be a songwriter, recording artist, record company and the P.T. Barnum, so to speak, of his own career? Of course not. I've always found it amusing that a few people who have never made a record or written a song seem to know so much more about what an artist should be doing than the artist himself. If these pundits know so much, I'd suggest that make their own records and just leave us out of it. Nora Guthrie, Woody's daughter, once told me a story about a reception she was at where Bob Dylan was in attendance. The business people there were quietly commenting on how unsociable Dylan seemed to them, not what they imagined an encounter with Dylan would be like. When that observation about Dylan's behavior and disposition were mentioned to Nora, the response was very profound. She said that Bob Dylan was not put on this earth to participate in cocktail chatter with strangers. Bob Dylan's purpose in life is to write great songs like "Blowin' in the Wind" and "The Times They Are A' Changin'." This sort of sums it all up for me. The artist is here to give the listener the opportunity to dream, a very profound and special gift even if he's minimally successful. If the artist only entertains you for three and a half minutes, it's something for which thanks should be given. Consider how enriched all of our lives are made by songs from "Like A Rolling Stone," a masterpiece, to "The Monster Mash," a trifle by comparison.

Now that the carnage in this industry is so deep you can hardly wade through it, it's open season for criticizing artists, present company included, for making a misstep or trying to create new opportunities to reach an audience, i.e., Springsteen releasing an album at Wal-Mart and, yes, we all know what Wal-Mart is about. The old rules and constraints that had governed what was once considered a legitimate artist are no longer valid. When you think about it, you must conclude that there really is no legitimate business; there is no game left.

Sadly, these days, it's really a matter of "every man for himself." In terms of possibilities, we are but an echo of what we once were. Of course, the artist does not want to "sell out to The Man." Left with no real choice except that business model of greed and the bean counting mentality that Reagan propagated and the country embraced, there is only "The Man" to deal with. There is no street for the music to rise up from. There is no time for the music to develop in a natural way that we can all embrace when it ripens and matures. That's why the general public doesn't really care. It's not that the people don't still love music; of course they do. It's just the way it is presented to them that ignores their humanity.

If we have any hope for survival of the music that we all love, compassion must replace name-calling, fairness must replace greed and we need to come together as a musical community and try to understand each other's problems. I once suggested to Don Henley, many years ago after I had left Polygram, that we should form an artist-driven record label, much like Charlie Chaplin did with the movies when he, more than 90 years ago, joined forces with Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks to form United Artists. Don's response was correct. He said that trying to get artists and business people together to work for the common good of everyone involved is akin to herding cats. When all is said and done, unfortunately, it's not really about the music or the artist. It's about you and your perception of yourself and how you think things ought to be. And we all know that this very rarely intersects with what actually is. Just because you think this is how it should be only makes it just that: what you think; it doesn't make it true. So let's try to put our best foot forward and remember that anyone can stand in the back of a dark hall and yell obscenities but if you want a better world it starts with you and the things you say and do.

UK University Offers Masters In The Beatles

LONDON — The city of Liverpool already has a Beatles museum and its airport is named after John Lennon. Now a local university says it rolling out a graduate program entirely devoted to the Fab Four.

Liverpool Hope University said Tuesday that its new master's program, "The Beatles, Popular Music and Society," would give students the opportunity to analyze music and culture through the band's work.

"There have been over 8,000 books about the Beatles but there has never been serious academic study and that is what we are going to address," said Mike Brocken, who is directing the program at the university, which is in the band's hometown in northwestern England.

Brocken said students would be expected to study the Beatles' songs, stardom, hometown and cultural impact through four 12-week courses and a dissertation.

Brocken said studying the band was really a way of examining society as a whole.

"If popular music is about anything, it's about people," he said. "If we look at popular culture, it simply provides us with a very complex mirror of ourselves."
___

On the Net:
Liverpool Hope University: http://www.hope.ac.uk/

Interview With a Poet

We Are proud to share this interview/poetry reading featuring Steve Gang.
It was held on Feb 11th at Kevro's Art bar in Delray Beach, FL.

Please click here to listen: http://www.zshare.net/audio/558488987c115fc5/