You Say You Want A Resolution? Well, You Know. . .

I am skeptical of New Year resolutions, simply due to evidence and experience. I have rarely, if ever, kept one. They are the usual suspects of resolutions, primarily around weight or money or organization.

This year, I'm losing weight without making a resolution. So there's one down. Money is still an issue, but one that won't be settled with a simple resolve. I'm convinced that you get what you want, and I'm not sure what it is I want that lots of money will get me. So I'm looking in other areas of life for what it is I want. Organization? Well, we all need dreams, right? 

But I have made one resolution this year, one that I want very  much to keep. And that is to be more tolerant, more understanding and less reactive. Anger can be charming on the page, if you do it right, and if you're not the recipient of that anger. But anger hurts, and it turns out that it not only hurts the person with whom you're angry, but it also hurts the person who is angry. And aside from a quick little jolt of energy for the reader, I don't think it does anyone else any good, either. So, this year I resolve to be a kinder person. More understanding. Less angry and quick to throw vitriolic arrows of outrage at targets of my righteous indignation.

Let's put this to a test. Let's talk about the record industry.

Earlier this month, the Record Industry Association of America (RIAA) announced, with much fanfare, that it was no longer going to sue people who downloaded songs from the Internet for free. And then it announced it was dropping the company that scoured the Internet, looking for these scofflaws. So it seems serious about changing its ways, after filing more than 35,000 lawsuits.

Let's take a look at this issue. It's pivotal to the entertainment field. 

Ever since music went digital in the 1980s, the record industry has been nervous. And for good reason: music recorded digitally is far more available to consumers than its analog cousin. In the halcyon days of the music business, an songwriter wrote a song, a publisher published it, the record company brought one of its artists with a producer into the studio to record it on a very expensive tape recorder, which was then pressed onto a vinyl disc, reproduced and packaged in full-color LP or 45 rpm sleeves, sent to distributors who then sent the product to record shops, while promotion men haunted disc jockeys at radio stations to play the disc. Each person at each step of this process was paid, often handsomely. But since the record industry had a virtual lock on the recording and distribution of its product, there was plenty of money to go around.

When the recording and reproduction of music switched from electrical signals on magnetic tape (analog) to capturing a series of zeros and ones in the computer (digital), things got different very fast. Suddenly, and almost virtually overnight, one no longer required an expensive tape recorder to make a pristine recording. And, with the advent of the Internet, one no longer needed a record industry to record, manufacture, and distribute product. But the industry kept the same model in place, because it was such a great money maker, and it fed a lot of people. 

Here's the problem: in the old days, one couldn't post a recording in a public place. Now, it's just too easy. People have come to expect free entertainment on the Internet. So files were uploaded, and downloaded, for years, and the record industry folks went crazy. And here, in days gone by, is where the industry and I parted company. 

The people in the industry are not monsters, or morons (see? right there is a huge step for me). They see their product being absconded by pirates and thieves, and they rightfully react. The profit margins of the record business have been on a downward path for quite a few years now, and the folks in charge of figuring out why have concluded that it's primarily due to downloading free files. But there didn't seem to be a way to stop it using technology, so the industry used its big gun -- lawyers. It sued Napster, the first major Internet company to specialize in file sharing, and won. Then, after other companies sprung up to take Napster's place, the industry decided to go after individuals. And they were successful; the majority of lawsuits settled for about $3,500, which is a fortune to most of the people who were sued. But it didn't cover the cost, ultimately, of the legal campaign, or stop file sharing, which is still a robust activity. Meanwhile, iTunes and other Internet music sites are prospering. 

So the RIAA called a halt to the lawsuits, which were mostly filed against kids and grandparents (look it up). In fairness, their product was being taken and distributed for nothing. It costs a lot of money to make that music, and a lot of skill and talent goes into the process. Artists and producers need to get paid -- otherwise, they'll do other things. Entertainment is not a volunteer activity, it's a full-time job. It's hard, and deserves remuneration. So I see why this is a problem the industry felt deserved the nuclear option. 

But it doesn't ignore the primary truth behind the curtain of the industry's indignation. The 1980s saw the introduction of digital, and the industry folks knew it was a new era. But the old system remained unchanged, due to laziness, greed, and a complete lack of foresight by people at the top of the industry food chain who make enormous amounts of money to see just these kinds of changes coming. I know this inside baseball stuff, and civilians don't really care, and I wouldn't be writing about it to a general readership if it hadn't come down to suing its own customers. But it did. You and I were subject to lawsuits for the crime of finding and using file sharing sites that were, as far as knew, perfectly legal. Sure, I know that child pornography is wrong, even if I find a site that promotes it. But downloading a favorite song is hardly in the same category.

No, my argument is this: the industry finds itself vulnerable and at risk, because it stubbornly hangs on to a system that no longer works. It desperately wants to fit its old model into the new paradigm, and it's just not going to happen. But the insult was having the arrogance, the abject arrogance and hubris, to think that it was somehow all right to punish its customers instead of firing its top ranks for going into a coma for 20 years and completely ignoring the obvious. 

No doubt the industry is undergoing a major restructuring right now, and hopefully the old school thinking is being swept away. We need a record industry; finding and recording artists is a major undertaking, as is promoting those artists and songs. The new era of Internet distribution presents major challenges, but also massive opportunities. Let's hope the new generation of record executives knows how to make it work, so we can enjoy the product without fear of legal retribution.

Axes of Evil -- Marketing Guitars in a Down Economy

"Talkin' 'bout hard times, who knows better than I?" - Ray Charles

Imagine being the maker of fine guitars in this particular economy. Like autos, you don't turn your design, production and sales strategies around on the turn of a dime; and the economy pretty much tanked seemingly overnight. Meanwhile, the industry seems increasingly clueless as to the needs of the working guitarist -- more and more toys keep getting produced, at the expense of bread and butter tools for making music. 

Case in point: Fender's new idea to create a "Road Worn" series of guitars . It's not a bad idea; we all love the look and feel of guitars that have been through the mill, and there's something very sexy about a Fender Strat or a Tele that has notches, nicks, scrapes and fret wear. It tells you that there are many stories around the guitar, many nights of sweaty, sultry, loud seductions and screams in ill-lit bars and stages; battered days and nights of rehearsals, performances, broken strings, amazing solos, adoring fans. So I see where Fender is going here. Sell the sexy without the sex. 

But really, who wants that? Not players. Collectors who don't play may feel proud to put a guitar that looks beat up on the wall and make up stories about it to admiring guests. But players want the real thing -- players want to put their own miles on a guitar, or buy one that has real wear and tear on it, not some prefabricated ideal. You can't prefabricate history, you have to make it one hard day at a time.

Fender is selling these guitars for a little more than the price of the same guitar without all the manufactured wear and tear, which is, frankly, kind of insulting in this economy. I would urge our friends at Fender to instead start focusing on a quality line of guitars for working players that feature top-notch woods, tuners, bridges, etc., at price points players can afford. Boutique stuff is nice for those for whom price is no object, but please, Fender, don't forget the core constituency here. We are the ones who keep you in business, who have built your brand and rely on your product to tell our stories. Please stop catering so shamelessly to those seeking cachet over utility, or otherwise the market will work its magic, and you will become an obsolete name replaced by hungrier, more responsive companies.

The same is true for Gibson; innovation and modernization is great, and essential, and it's a bold move to delay the launch of Dark Fire , which will apparently play your solos for you, make a chai latte and wash your car. But while you're doing all this great innovative stuff, please continue to focus on your core constituents as well. Gibson guitars have been falling significantly in quality for the past ten years, while the price tags continue to increase. Sure, I'd love a new Firebird from the company that created the guitar, but it's $2,500. I can see paying that for a new Les Paul, but not for a Firebird. Sure, you let me buy the Epiphone version for half the price -- that tells me that if I buy the Gibson model, I'm paying you at least $500 for the cachet of the Gibson logo. Working musicians don't have the luxury of paying for cachet, unless they're working in places like coliseums. Have your brilliant minds come together to figure out how to make great guitars at prices more in line with the players who play them.

I believe in market forces, sure. And the guitar market has plenty of room for collectors with tons of money to throw around for collectables. But what's happening with the top two guitar brands is a little scary, frankly. It feels like both companies are catering to beginners and collectors, and not so much on the players any more. It would be encouraging if both companies released a product or two that was aimed at guitarists who knew what they wanted, and what they were doing, and what they were willing to pay for such an instrument. 

I'm not yelling, I'm just saying. . . 

Ba-Rackin' the Inauguration in Martinez, CA

On Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2009, a very important event is taking place, an event of historic proportions that you will want to attend so that, as time marches on, you can one day tell your children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren that you were there, right there, in person when it occurred. It's a rare opportunity for us as Americans to participate personally in history, or at least to be able to mark that opportunity on our calendars. This is one such opportunity.

For the very first time, on that historic day, Armando's in downtown Martinez, CA will be presenting live entertainment on a Tuesday. It's unheard of. It's never happened before, and many believed that it would never happen in our lifetimes. But others (and I count myself among them), chose to believe that it could happen, that the power of change and reason would ultimately prevail, and that we would have hope and live music in Martinez on a Tuesday. 

And now, at last, it is so. 

And oh, by the way, the new president is getting sworn in, too. So, in another nod to history, Armando's will have a television set turned to the inauguration.

Brief reminder and shameless promotion: The Very Bad Boys are at Armando's this Saturday, Jan. 17, at 8 p.m. We've been working hard on this performance, and we'd love to see you come out and help us celebrate a new era in America. 

Other than having live music on Tuesday in Martinez, Tuesday marks a significant day in the lives of our nation, as the United States of America becomes, once again, a nation of people who can, should they choose, be in charge of their own government, and thus their destinies. I know, this sounds like hyperbole, and perhaps I am overstating the issue a tad. But not by much. 

For the past eight years (and one could argue convincingly eight years prior to that), America has been a nation led by men who didn't seem to care much for what Americans had to say, if those Americans fell into the 95 percent category of people who were not billionaires. When the most powerful Vice President in our history can look into the TV camera and say "so what?" to a question about the concerns of a majority of the country regarding the 'war' in Iraq, something had obviously gone horribly wrong in the national conscience. In my mind, such a response by an elected official should be an immediate impeachable offense. 

But those days are very soon to be behind us. President Bush and Vice President Cheney are going to be left for history to judge, and I suspect that when it does, Mr. Cheney is going to find out the answer to "so what?" Both men, to be fair, showed up to serve  their country, and could have made far more money in the private sector. But the power they wielded is not available to private citizens, and certainly both men had the ear of the very powerful and very wealthy in this country. It seemed to me (and I don't think I'm alone in this) that those interests were the ones served for eight years, and not the interests of the vast majority. Is it too kind to assume that their thinking was that if it's good for the elite, it's ultimately good for the population? 

President Elect Obama appears to be the kind of leader who inspires others to get their hands dirty, doing the dirty work of democracy. He certainly inspires me to do that, and I thought myself immune to the seductions of politicians. While his words are lofty and soaring, for me it's more about what he has become in spite of where he comes from. To put it kindly, black Americans are second-class citizens in America. And this man has chosen, for most of his life, to focus on the possibilities and opportunities in front of him, rather than the racism both inherent and obvious, that confronts people of color in this land on a daily basis. That in itself is leading by example.

President Elect Obama takes the chair in the Oval Office at a time when our country is in desperate need of a cool hand on the tiller. One can argue why our economic system is imploding, or why our standing in the world is at an all-time and very dangerous low, or why the very basic functions of American society seem to be, if not falling apart, at least making very scary squeaking sounds at the hinges. Those on the right will blame Bill Clinton and the minority congress that for six years was pretty much powerless to do anything. Those on the left will blame Bush and the six-year majority in congress. The truth is, there is plenty of blame to go around. Sure, 911 changed the face of American politics, but one cannot help but conclude that much of the fear that was mongered on Americans in the post 911 world was done out of political or economic expediency, and not an authentic sense of protection. On that list I would include Iraq.

Great leaders don't do for us, they inspire us to do for ourselves. And to me, that's the difference between the outgoing and incoming president. Bush argued that all we had to do was shop to do our part in the war on terror -- that and invade a country that did not attack or provoke us, for the first time in our history. He made it clear that the government would do all the protecting, even if it meant the end of some pretty basic civil rights. It appears that President Elect Obama will take a far different approach, and work to engage the rest of us in the work and responsibilities of democracy. It's a tough assignment, and he appears to be more than up to the task. I look forward to being part of the solution for a change. 

Besides, Aretha Franklin is going to sing at the inauguration, so even if you didn't vote for the man, you can at least enjoy the festivities. Who doesn't like Aretha? And don't forget to join us at Armando's for a great day of democracy, music, celebration and fun. All on a Tuesday. 

The Dark Mists of Days Long Gone

When I was a mere slip of a lad, I had a band named Colefeat. This was a band destined to make a serious mark on the American musical landscape. A five-piece blues-based band, we sometimes played behind John Lee Hooker, and we often played stages at such prestigious clubs as Keystone Berkeley, the Longbranch, West Dakota and the Great American Music Hall. We were together for several years, in different formations, and we played a lot of gigs. Most everyone who heard us seemed to like us.

There are a hundred thousand dramas that go along with this band. Just an example: the keyboard player was my wife. She had been, previously, my English teacher in high school. The band ultimately broke up when this woman met and fell in lust with a half-Aleut fisherman in Kodiak, Alaska while we were there on a six-week gig that had been arranged by ABC Records, prior to them signing us for a record deal. The band leader (me) couldn't handle the emotional fallout from that, and went home with no warning to the other band members. The other members went on to form the briefly successful Yankee Reggae band, The Shakers. They even put out a record. 

Anyway, it was a heady experience, those Colefeat years. But we never recorded any official music, and I don't have any of the reference recordings that were made, so whatever that band sounded like was permanently lost to the mists of time. Or so I thought. 

But Gil, the original drummer, just sent me a CD of five original Colefeat tunes we recorded at LaVal's Pizza in Berkeley, on his penultimate gig with us in early 1974. For me, it's a life-changing recollection. This is a Jim Caroompas (or, as I tried to be known then, JC Scott) that was completely immersed in the music -- focused on little else but making a way as a musician in a weird, often-cruel world. Married, sure, but not much of a husband. Stoned most of the time, a momma's boy from Lafayette, CA, tossed into the rough and tumble East Bay music scene, with very few clues and even fewer experiences. The voice is young and squeaky. You can hear me trying to sound like BB King, and sounding more instead like someone just stepped on my foot. But at least I'm trying. But the guitar work... well, I was playing every day back then. Some day I'll write a book about this band. For now, I'm just grateful that there are a few sonic remnants to take me back there. 

It's All Funky Up In Here, Ya'll

Sometimes, if you're paying attention, delights just pop up out of nowhere. I can personally testify to this, because it happened to me just yesterday morning. There I was, perusing the Armando's calendar for next week, and out of nowhere, I learned about an exciting New Orleans Funk/Blues band that's going to be playing there. 

Now, I know what you're thinking -- more shameless self promotion for my band, The Very Bad Boys, who happen to be playing Armando's on Saturday, Jan. 17 from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. The club is, by the way, located at 707 Marina Vista, right down from La Beau's, and is a Bay Area treasure and absolute delight for music fans, because it is geared for listening, not socializing, so music here is the primary motive, not an afterthought. And The Very Bad Boys will be playing an eclectic mix of New Orleans fonk, blues, and R&B. But more on that in a minute. 

First, a word about New Orleans, the first Soul Sister of American music; the living consciousness of American race relations; the frilly, dangerous, seductive, steamy, swampland of food, music and language. America was born, in many ways both comfortable and uncomfortable, on the shores of New Orleans. It is one of our oldest cities, and it is the landing spot of slave ships. It is where African music first sounded in the thick night air, played by slaves who were desperate for something familiar from their home. It is the place where that very sound met and morphed with other sounds, and the soul-screaming pain fused into something unique to the American experience. And over all these many great and horrible years later, we now have a juicy legacy of blues, soul, funk and jazz -- the tastiest treat in the musical menu, as far as I'm concerned. And as we prepare to welcome our first African American president into the White House, it seems just right to celebrate that notion with some New Orleans sounds.

Though it may not be the best marketing move, let me tell you about the band that's playing Armando's the night before my band. It's called the Jolly Gibsons, and oh my goodness, ladies and gentlemen, ya'll must reserve both nights, Jan. 16 and 17, for this special weekend New Orleans fonk festival. You are, by the way, reading the word 'fonk' correctly. It's the sound of New Orleans funk. Say it out loud. Fonk. That's the soul and spirit of this music. Anyway, the Jolly Gibsons are led by Jennifer Jolly, a keyboard player of the New Orleans genre (which is, for my money, the very best kind of keyboards). Most of my life spent right here in the Bay Area, playing music all over the place, and I've never encountered her before. But I'll be right there near the front on Friday, Jan. 16, because her work with this band (hear some at http://www.sonicbids.com/epk/epk.aspx?epk_id=77620) is nothing short of remarkable. Steve Gibson is on guitar, and his work is also stellar. The bass (Mark Fischer) and drums (Dave Bernfield) are held down by excellent players, and en masse these guys just make a joyful noise. It's not often that our own little town gets visited by New Orleans fonk specialists, but Friday, Jan. 16 is just such a night. Write it down, circle it in red, and come out to Armando's for this evening of fun and frolic. 

Oh, but then, rest up Saturday. Because Saturday night, Jan. 17, again from 8 p.m. to 11 p.m., out come, for  the first time in months, The Very Bad Boys. Now, we were the first band to actually play Armando's, back before the club even officially opened. And that gig, by the way, was the first official gig for The Very Bad Boys. Since then, we've added the mighty Bill Horton on drums, and the awe-inspiring Greg Beaudreaux on keyboards. We also play New Orleans Fonk, and we mix it up a little -- some reggae here, some Motown there -- all intended to cause as much aural cacophony as possible without hurting your ears. This night officially launches the Very Bad Boys 2009 Tour, which features five more stops at Armando's and a variety of other venues and exotic locales that have yet to be determined. But this space will keep you appraised of the situation as it unfolds. 

So we'll see you Friday and Saturday, Jan. 16 and 17, where the fonk meets the friends and they all dance together. Bon Temps Roullet, as they say.

Show Coming Up -- Rehearsals and Stress

My band, The Very Bad Boys, haven't done a show since New Year's Eve, but that was a dance, not a concert. We have our first concert since August coming up on the 17th of this month. Frankly, I'm a little concerned about the lack of new material. We have about 12 new songs we want to cover, in addition to four or five originals I've written, but only a couple of weeks to get them learned and under our belts.

In the past, things like this didn't bother me. You take your gear to the gig, you plug in and you play. People like you or they don't. And you go home smiling most nights.

For some reason, I'm worried this time. I don't want to play the same material we know and are comfortable with. I want to throw out new, unheard tunes. I want to explore new territories and scrape against the screen of the unknown. I want to see what we can do when we don't really know what we're doing. 

I've called for two rehearsals before the 17th, a challenge in the best of times. But hopefully we can do both of them, and in the process nail down the songs we've obligated ourselves to learning and playing. This band is not big on doing homework, and not terribly great at focusing during rehearsals. But I'm hoping we can all reach deep and dig out our desires to burn the house down at our next concert. Playing to drunks in bars is easy, and you get spoiled, because even when they're listening, they're drunk. If you throw a drunk a four-four, they'll love it, whether or not you're doing anything musically worthwhile. When you're playing a concert where people are seated, sober, and listening, you have to show up and play. You can't just cruise, and you can't just make funny faces and pretend you're squeezing out your best. You have to give it up. 

What began as a loose configuration of friends is morphing into something a little more serious. As the navigator of this journey, I can only hope that I'm up to the task of making this happen in a way that shows off our skills and instincts in the best possible way. 

I'm not grumpy! Now get off my lawn!

There's a fellow guitarist right here in Martinez who reads this here blog, and I'm nothing if not shamefully influenced by my audience. A couple of weeks ago, he said "I always look to see who you're ranting about this week." He enjoys the ranting, I noted to myself. Must rant more.

So I wrote last week's column about new year predictions and decibel meters. My own band members accused me of trying to get assassinated, or telling people that if they don't like it too loud they can just leave. Which is not, astute readers will already know, at all what I said. My wife accused me of being negative. Try as I might, I cannot get the love 'round here. 

But, I thought, CB will enjoy the rant. He said he loves the rants. So I took no small amount of comfort in that. 

Today, in an early afternoon visit to The Good Stuff Guitar Shop, he was there. Well, I inquired, how did you like the column? 

"You're grumpy," he observed. 

Which just goes to show that you cannot, try as you might, please anyone at all. I mean, one would think that a rant about decibel meters and their abuse by those who would impose their volume ethic on everyone would appeal to a fellow guitar playing band dude. But noooo. Instead, I get accused of grumpyhood. 

In future columns, I shall shower light and flowers all over the place, and ne'er say a discouraging word about anything or anyone. I'm gonna get all Donovan on ya'll (those under 35, don't mind the reference -- it means all hippie and peace-love and flowery). 

And I'm gonna do all that as soon as you all get off of my lawn!