A funny thing happened on the way to The National

Mflow’s tagline ‘Discovery is the best thing in music’ may or may not true, but I’ve just made a discovery myself – that the best sort of music discovery can be discovering the music that you already know. That’s a lot of discoveries in one sentence, so let me explain.

I was all set to skip the new National album. I was just going to let it pass, on account of having too much currently stacked up in the ‘recently acquired’ CD pile-up - and the download equivalent (a queue?).

Then I succumbed, having read too many glowing reviews, and put it on order from Amazon, but with self-calibrated expectations. I say this because, though I am a fan of The National (having first discovered them via their wonderful track “About Today” on an Uncut magazine cover-mount) I’ve found them to be a band of great promise if not quite the accomplished article on delivery.

I bought their previous two records “Alligator” and “Boxer” and found them both to contain great moments (notably on Boxer – “Guest Room”, “Fake Empire” and “Mistaken For Strangers”) but overall, patchy (but, aggrieved National fans, read on). I also once bought three tickets to one of the band’s shows at The Astoria on the “Boxer” tour and coaxed two friends along, eulogising about this great new band I’d discovered.

When they opened that gig with “Guest Room” I felt vindicated and all like the great “A&R” man (it sounded absolutely splendid), but the rest of the gig was somewhat marred by singer Matt Berninger’s apparent discomfort on stage. You can actually hear more about his stage-fright issues via a Guardian podcast here (small aside – what do you do when an artist on the cusp of mainstream success and potentially huge live shows – suffers from lack of stage presence? - I can’t see many artists taking much to a suggestion of stagecraft ‘coaching’).

So, I thought I’d skip ‘High Violet’. Thank god I didn’t. I only really got to play it properly because I was travelling (back from the South West) and was in a bit ‘phased out’ (after a disappointing business meeting). For those reasons, I set the album to play on repeat – and just let it run & run (four-five times over maybe) until it kind of got inside my head.

Three weeks later and it’s still there, rattling around. In fact I only really came up for air by re-visiting their previous two albums – both of which now suddenly connect with me much more than they did originally. Alligator especially, is a real treat, as it turns out.

Somehow I now ‘get’ The National. I’ve got beyond the moody baritone ‘miserabilists’ stage and moved on to appreciate the tightly-wound core of fine drumming, bass and guitar, the finely detailed, layered, textured sounds (including wonderfully understated use of piano, strings and brass), the oddly-affecting, existential lyrics and at last, the strained emotional delivery of Matt Berninger’s vocals. And more than that, his superb phrasing.

It all makes sense – and on High Violet manages to exceed the sum of all these wonderful parts – through having better tunes, with better songs – Berninger’s lyrics now more effective in connecting real-life stories with the weird inner-dialogues – effectively making him a fully-paid up member of the Genuine Pop Music Poets Society.

“Someone send a runner for the weather that I’m under for the feeling that I lost today”, for example, from ‘England’ (for me the album’s pinnacle track, and my self-adopted national world cup theme. Was that really ‘England’ playing in background on some recent world cup BBC coverage? I think it was). Or perhaps take this one, from single Bloodbuzz Ohio: “I still owe money, to the money, to the money I owe” – that’s a clever commentary on the recent financial crisis if you want my opinion. My favourite though is from Lemonworld, where that songs protagonist declares he “left my heart to the army, the only sentimental thing I could think of”. It rouses.

But why am I telling you this on Juggernaut, without due consideration for the industry? Well it actually did get me pondering on both the demand side and the supply side of things actually.

On the demand side, as with Mflow for example – we’ve become somewhat absorbed, perhaps even obsessed with, ‘discovering’ new music, with gaining ‘access’ to it, and with the ‘acquisition’ of it. It strikes me these experiences all pale with actually listening, and forming a deeper relationship with the music than you thought might be possible initially. It’s like discovering a new author and then revisiting all his or her other books, with a renewed, re-ignited pleasure. You can find yourself thanking your lucky stars, just for the serendipity of it all. Besides, the album would never have entered my consciousness in the way that it has, without that first bought of repeated listening.

On the supply side, The National’s story amounts to the way it should be for music artists and their development, does it not? ‘High Violet’ is the Band’s fifth album and represents a sure, steady growth creatively and now commercially as well. It’s refreshing, re-assuring even, that we can still witness artists in a steady ascendancy like this. Isn’t this how it used to be? I would wish the same on The Local Natives, or The Temper Trap – or any other type of band with the apparent talent and capability to arrive where The National has.

Has it got something to do with being on an indie label rather than a major labels? Perhaps, except there are plenty of indie bands on majors with what seems like longevity and ascendancy too. Most notably Elbow (though a partial 'rescue' job was done there), Kings of Leon (now so big it's hard to think of them as 'indie' but they are essentially) and others.

But The National's success seems partly down to the fact that the band didn’t get too popular too soon - that they had time to become this good. With ‘High Violet’, The National has indeed been allowed to bloom.

Will more Great Catalogue now come back from Exile?

Have you listened to Exile of Main Street lately? If not, then you will surely have at least been curious to do so. It’s been nothing if not omnipresent for the past six weeks or so, leading up to the re-release last week.

This is how to do catalogue marketing. Take a classic record – one with plentiful versions of plentiful stories – and some good music – and re-embed it into the culture. So, for the past six weeks we’ve been ‘treated’ (whether we like it or not, and I for one have quite liked it) to extensive write-ups in all the broadsheets – with cover stories in their supplements, BBC documentaries on the TV and the radio – all seemingly with full participation from esquires Jagger & Richards. I'm sure there's probably been a social media strategy as well but I was less receptive to that if so.

Result for us: Exile On Main Street basically unavoidable. We are forced to submit, basically.
Result for them: Catalogue record from 1972 re-enters 2010 album chart and actually goes to number 1.

No wonder The Stones decided to take their catalogue over from EMI to Universal. Guy Hands probably didn’t paint quite this picture in his lunches with Jagger – the idea that for weeks on end, the likes of ‘Exile’ would literally become the biggest thing in British culture!

Universal is the number one on the block for ‘muscle’ and seems to have true carpet bomb capabilities in the way the other majors don’t (or maybe they can’t afford to or just don’t want to). Mind you having said that, EMI did a pretty good job with the Beatles re-issues didn’t they? When I wrote about that last year I predicted tens of millions in potential sales and I’m confidently assured that the Beatles re-issues have gone beyond 13 million and still rising.

It’s quite a phenomenon this ‘cultural marketing’, give the state we’re in generally and when you consider the fact that so much music catalogue has been commoditised too easily by being made available on streaming services. I think it justifies recent moves by Bob Dylan and other to question the move to be on those types of services. And the campaign around Dylan a few years back, when he released the book, the film and new music – was similarly the cultural phenomenon – and no doubt a fillip for his most recent new releases too.

It seems like the industry is beginning to take its catalogue ‘jewels’ very, very seriously – and that’s a good thing. Perhaps its because new music doesn't connect with mass culture in quite this way these days. Or maybe it's simply a mortality realisation thing, since there is a generation of these greats that may well literally expire on us before the next decade is out. McCartney has announced his farewell tour and you have to question how many more we’ll see – along with new records – by the likes of Springsteen, The Who and indeed The Stones.

What’s next on the catalogue cultural calendar? Personally I would like to see some proper re-appraisal of Queen’s catalogue – perhaps with a movie if that can be pulled together. Or Kate Bush – though I’m pining more for something new from ‘Our Kate’ having recently been playing the Nada Surf cover of “Love and Anger” and recognising just how uniquely Kate Bush it sounds. Stevie Wonder perhaps, with his forthcoming Glastonbury slot as marketing glue? Where was the Bowie ‘Berlin’ series tie in with the recent book by Thomas Seabrook? I’ve been enjoying that and would probably have been persuaded to part ways with money for some specially packaged versions of the Berlin triage of albums – perhaps.

I love the idea that great music can be culturally resurrected in this way – even if it is a bit in our faces via the usual big media gatekeepers – and will always be about records made a long, long time ago.

With ‘Exile’ it all seemed genuine enough and beautifully executed. But did the music itself warrant all this re-appraisal and attention? My CD (come on, after all this campaigning you could hardly be satisfied with downloading Exile now could you? – though I just bought the remix not the fancy packaged double) sat on the shelf for a week until this morning.

Last night I went out for reunion beers with for friends – two of which I had not seen for almost 15 years. This morning’s cotton headed, jelly-legged, bacon-sandwich-assisted slow recovery back to life seemed like the perfect morning to stick it on and given it a spin.

Yes, it’s quite good isn’t it? I guess a lot of people do know that now.

Are we living too fast for slow pop?

Couple of years back I was at a music conference featuring a panel of ‘new millennial’s (young people to you and me) discussing their music listening habits. One explained in all seriousness, that he had “tried putting a CD and just listening, but it didn’t really work for me”. Older members of the audience, including me, sighed out an involuntary laugh.

I intended then, to write something about some of the albums that I grew up with when I was a young adult, reflecting on just how different the experience was then – as a child of the 80’s, musically speaking. Putting on a CD and ‘just listening’ was exactly what we all did. Habitually, frequently, repetitively.

It’s rapidly becoming a lost art in itself though – and this fascinates me. It does so partly because I’m convinced the industry is missing a trick commercially by not promoting more pure enjoyment from music – instead becoming obsessed with access, discovery and acquisition. The most recent example of course is latest ‘buzz’ music service mflow, which has the tagline ‘Discovery it’s the greatest thrill in music’. Nothing wrong with it I suppose, yet there really is something wrong. However, that’s something for another post.

The other fascination for me with modern music consumption is not commercial, but cultural. I think the millennial guy who couldn’t get through full album session is missing out on one of life’s simple, exceptional pleasures. And it worries me that it’s going this way for the majority. When Observer Music Monthly surveyed the UK’s listening habits back in 2005 it found one third of music fans claimed they did still play albums from start to finish ‘occasionally’. I wonder what the proportion is now.

What brought this subject back to me was reading La Roux’s ‘Soundtrack of my life’ in this Sunday’s Observer (sadly, now sans its Music Monthly supplement). Elly Jackson observes – on the subject of one of my favourite and prime examples of slow-pop – Tear For Fears’ ‘Songs From The Big Chair’ that:

“The way it’s recorded and produced is incredible. People don’t take that much time over music any more. And if you did, all your fans would fuck off somewhere else, ‘cause they’re so fickle nowadays”.

I like this quote because it captures both the cultural and commercial trends in music production and consumption. We simply lack the attention spans, as well as the time, and the market responds to that by not supplying such demanding product.

That said, I for one am still trying to create the time and clear the headspace to listen to Joanna Newsome’s latest 3-disc magnum opus. What was she thinking?

For me, the classic slow-pop albums of my formative years are a unique thing, largely of the past. They are unique in that these records tended to contain a mixture of both massive hits, but more experimental, almost sub-classical tracks, either in-between – or sometimes given their own ‘side’ (Kate Bush’s ‘Hounds of Love’ being perhaps the most complete example, with its ‘The Ninth Wave’ second half). These records were made by artists at their commercial peak, coinciding with their creative urge to experiment and move forward.

Sequencing was massively important in creating an impression of vast depth for these records, which sucked the listener in – making a more immersive experience than any 3D film or website I can think of. Both ‘Big Chair’ and ‘Hounds’ are superlative examples. Another would be OMD’s ‘Architecture and Morality’ (the latter two albums curiously and perhaps rightly, not featured on Spotify et al.).

Other examples? Perhaps the masters of this whole process were Talk Talk. Perhaps the best example of such a work is Dark Side Of The Moon.

There are probably endless examples from days past. But where are the modern slow-pop masterpieces? They hardly exist – partly because the culture we live in leaves them little space in which to thrive. We are no longer connected by this type of cultural experience – too busy discovering, accessing or sharing what we haven’t really listened to that much!

I’ve previously argued that Radiohead’s ‘OK Computer’ might well be the last example of this particular ‘genre’ – a popular but experimental album. Since Radiohead have ‘moved on’ from albums, they may not supply any more of the same. U2’s experimental side and commercial peak seems long since past. Can we look to Elbow, or even Coldplay to do something a bit old-fashioned – namely connect massive popularity with a risky but ultimately successful creative formula? Or even La Roux per chance.

I hope they do and I hope it sparks a renaissance for slow-pop, for the sake of the new millennials.

My top five slow-pop records then, which I would not dream of mflow-ing you, but would advise you to get on to Amazon now...

1. Kate Bush: Hounds of Love.

2. Tears For Fears: Songs From The Big Chair.

3. OMD: Architecture and Morality.

4. Talk Talk: The Colour of Spring.

5. U2: Zooropa.

Ps. For the record, I like mflow – both its current execution and its possibilities, but for me it still isn’t quite the answer to the faltering music industry model.


I’m on mflow as ‘keithj’ if you can find some slow pop for me!

2009: The year of music not necessarily from 2009

This will be one of a few year-end round-up posts, just for fun really, nothing too serious. If you want to catch more ‘business-like’ music related writings then keep an eye on my guest posts on the MIDEMNET blog, with the next one through in a week or so. If you’ve enjoyed the JB blog’s insights into the music business throughout this year look out for a series of insight-led pieces I will be writing from next year on the wider media sectors and beyond...for now it’s about the music...

It’s coming up to that time again, reflecting back on the musical year. All the papers and music magazines have had double debriefs to contend with as we wind up both 2009 and of course the decade. My reading pile is substantial, which does not sit too well with my first resolution for 2010 to ‘read less, listen more’.

As ever, music itself played a central role in my year both in terms of consulting projects but of course in terms of music itself. I can’t help but feel compelled to round-up each year – I think I have done this more or less for as long as I can recall. But here’s the thing – this will be the last year in which I do this.

The reason is simple: I’ve stopped defining my music consumption and experiences by time, certainly by year. In 2009, I found myself discovering (I use the term ‘discovery’ to embrace not just the practice of finding music, but connecting with it) music that could be from anytime.

Most notably, the record I played most this year was GaGaGaGaGa by Spoon, which was released last year. I have also just being enjoying Martha Wainwright’s album from last year ‘I Know You’re Married But I’ve Got Feelings Too’, which is a really rich collection of songs. I’ve been much more tardy though, in discovering I Am Kloot’s ‘Natural History’, a wonderful album that I actually did buy the year it came out – 2001 – but have played to death only this year. I will definitely pounce on their new record next year, not least as it is being produced by Elbow’s Guy Garvey who is a patron of the band – context that might have provided some glue for my connection to them after all this time.

I also just discovered Gil Scott Heron following news items about his ‘reappearance’ this year. And I’ve re-discovered Grace Jones, Talk Talk and The Beatles for the umpteenth time. Much of this of course is related to events in 2009, so the context is contemporary, but the music itself is from way back.

As for music released this year there are plenty of records I’ve acquired but have yet to connect with, somewhat disappointingly. This includes, to my surprise, the new albums by The Arctic Monkeys, Wilco and Metric – three artists I have absolutely loved, previously. Slightly disturbed by this, since I can’t tell when the opportunity will come to hear these records in a new light. I was also disappointed with quite a few records that came strongly recommended or anticipated, including The Duke & The King (it's just a bit dull, no?), Doves and even The Hours’ ‘ See The Light’, which lacked the intensity and staying power of ‘Narcissus Road’. The latter is one of my records of the decade by the way, which I will post on later.

From the year itself, I more immediately connected with the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s ‘It’s Blitz’; EG White’s ‘Adventure Man’; Adela Diane’s ‘To Be Still’ and bona fide ‘return to form’ albums by Madness, Pearl Jam and Alice In Chains.

Pride of place in the CD player and on the iPod however were Portico Quartet’s ‘Isla’ – a genuine ‘grower’ that gets richer with familiarity; John Vanderslice’s ‘Romanian Names’ - he defines the genre 'interesting pop'; Spiro’s wonderfully uplifting ‘Lightbox’; Pink Martini’s ‘Splendour in The Grass’ and Bill Callaghan’s wistful ‘Sometimes I Wish I Were An Eagle’ which has marvellous arrangements.

The surprise of the year for me was Starsailor’s ‘All The Plans’ which I was moved to blog about back in March. There is always delight in discovering music accidentally, but that’s sometimes even greater when you really didn’t like the previous work of an artist. I didn’t previously like anything about Starsailor – suspecting them of being a bit run of the mill – but they completely won me over with such a superbly written, performed and heartfelt record that really doesn’t contain a single filler track. Put away your preconceptions is the lesson there I suppose.

I did not get around to Animal Collective and any number of other ‘buzz’ bands, but that’s not untypical for me. I discovered Arctic Monkeys on the second album, not the over-hyped first. I’m in no hurry. And that’s our divine right as music fans isn’t it? I’m really not interested in having music rammed down my throat – that’s the old way. I don’t really listen to music radio (with the exception of Guy Garvey, Gideon Coe and occasional KCRW) so I have no idea what’s being pushed. I’m very much on the pull side – actively using the reviews and taking in other contexts.

I know what I’m ready to like and when I'm good and ready. As Daniel Levitin says in his fascinating book 'This Is Your Brain On Music': "Trying to appreciate new music can be like contemplating a friendship in that it takes time, and sometimes there is nothing you can do to speed it up".

But the era of lists and end notes on a year may well be over. As music fans, it’s increasingly unimportant what week, quarter or even year, we discover the music, but how we discover it, enjoy it and pass on the good word about it. I wonder however, if I can resist the urge to list.

Music is a different business – it should do more for music that’s different

A week or so ago, I made five recommendations of music that’s a bit different to my (& maybe your) usual tastes, as part of my strategy to prioritise my music consumption – as set out in this previous post.

Those records were new or recent releases by Portico Quartet, Spiro, Steve Martin, Bill Frisell, The Unthanks and Pink Martini. None of them are ‘popular’ – but each album does fall into a category of sorts – one the many hundreds of music genres or sub-genres. Even Pink Martini – a blend of just about everything except pop, is described on Wikipedia as ‘vintage music’ – a sub genre probably, of ‘easy listening’.

As an industry – if you can really refer to the distribution of commercial music as an industry (a worthy post-grad paper perhaps) – the incredible, bewildering variety of products is what makes the music business totally unique. No other business that I know of puts full-blown produced products out there on the market without any prior knowledge of what will happen next. Sure, if you have a major pop artist with a known commercial track record and the whole dashboard of modern demand metrics, you might be able to put together a half-decent sales forecast – but you’d still be pushing it to be within + or – 100%.

But forget those, if you have any one of the above records – in niche genres – how on earth do you know if you can even hope to break even on releasing the record commercially – i.e. having funded its discovery, production, marketing and distribution? Because the one thing you do know is that you will not have a global hit on your hands.

In this sense, the music business is also unique – in that there are few genuinely ‘independent’ or ‘alternative genre’ records that become global smash hits. The movie business is different – it produces - even if it’s just a couple - of real indie smashes each year, pretty consistently. Be it Blair Witch, The March Of The Penguins, Slumdog, or the very latest example - Paranormal Activity – the small guys can make it really, really big in film.

It happens less so in music – if you look at the top fifty selling albums each year they are dominated by pop records released by majors. Neither small independent’s or niche genre artists get a look in. There are clear reasons based on industry structure. Film has an established independent film network that is supported by major festivals around the world – many of which are celebrated as significant cultural events. It has an ‘art-house’ cinema distribution network too. Film also gets significant government support on the investment side.

The music industry doesn’t have the equivalents. Yes there are numerous small venues that cater to the alternative – but they are not effectively networked and so do not make up more than the sum of their parts. Same for independent labels, really – hence there have been recent initiatives to give the sector a much needed leg-up – such as independent charts. But these often confuse ‘independence’ between source – i.e. label and actual musical style. As for retail, well we can see what’s happened there and it is almost too painful to keep watching.

Music that’s genuinely different, alternative or niche must simply submit to being commercially second-rate. The only global phenomenon of the same nature I can recall is the success of the Buena Vista Social Club Cuban music movement – and that all started with – an independent movie!

I applaud initiatives that try up the ante for the ‘movement’ that is niche music – such as the upcoming January 2010 Reverb festival of concerts at the Roundhouse, which has some support from the Arts Council of England and local Camden Council – though only small commercial sponsors.

However, I’m absolutely convinced this music can scale better than it does, if only it had the right platform. After all, this is the digital age where niche content was in fact supposed to have become the heir to the Blockbuster King, by now according to the uber-thinking-journalists.

Take this simple insight. I have three Pink Martini CDs so I like them – they have grown on me over the years without necessarily becoming an act I would recommend to others regularly. But I know I could name maybe 20-30 other people in my life who would like them as much as me if not more so – but who have never even heard of them. My feeling is that Portico Quartet could achieve the same sort of crossover potential in the UK that Jazz trio E.S.T. achieved in their native Sweden – where they regularly made the mainstream charts.

While I wouldn’t say the same for Spiro or The Unthanks – I’m am pretty convinced that they could probably triple whatever little they do sell - easily – if only they could get some effective, targeted exposure to their receptive audiences, and that could well be the difference between loss & profit.

Steve Martin, well, he doesn’t exactly need to have a hit – and has in fact spent extravagant amounts of his own money on making and touring his ‘The Crow’. But it is such a good record it deserves success in its own right, not just as some kind of vanity project. As for Bill Frisell – at least he is on exactly the right label to connect with his audience – Nonesuch – which specialises in route-to-market for eclectic, different music aimed at the more mature, discerning ear.

And here is the second insight for today. I’m a mature and enthusiastic music fan who has listened to so much stuff that I am receptive – in a state of absolute readiness – to hear more music that’s different. Where do I connect with my fellow audience? I’ve no doubt that audience is large (huge globally); fairly well-off and fairly uninterested in piracy – probably even pro-actively disposed to paying top whack for music - as the rich cultural good that it is. The reason we don’t buy much these days is we are uninspired and ill-informed. No one is putting this music in front of us.

Now I know there is the BBC and in the US, ‘public radio’ – and this is great. Programmes like ‘Late Junction’ are the equivalent of splendid cuisine for the ears – even if you sometimes have to work at it to acquire the taste first. But I don’t really do radio. I want to check this stuff out on demand and then buy it and keep playing it until I love it.

Also, I know these artists could get greater exposure in a number of ways – like what if Portico could get a support slot for Radiohead, or if Spiro got a great synch opportunity? That could break ground, but only as a one-off, transient thing – it might serve those artists well if they are lucky – but it’s not reaching that huge global audience of un-served, unlucky listeners.

And finally here’s the irony. In the UK we are about to get bombarded with new music services (again) – each one upping the ante on the ‘business model’ – more & more music for less & less cash. But the music is always the same stuff. The front-line recommendations are the big artists about to assault the radio networks, the TV and press. Spotify this week has the exclusive with Robbie Williams (do they really need each other?). Sky Songs has launched – in a promotion with The Sun newspaper. It’s like daytime radio all over again - the same music to the broadest audience possible.

Even out of those six million songs in the impressively large catalogues, there’s nothing for we-who-want-different, since we don’t know what we’re looking for, or if we do and hit search, it will not be there more than half the time.

Why don’t we do something different for those people who want something different? I’m on the case...the next post will show us the way...

The new way to listen #3: Music that's 'different'

This is a two part post: first, some music I recommend; second (later in the week) – how can this music be ‘business’?

Recently I wrote about how my music consumption and listening habits are changing – including spending more time opening my ears to music that’s different. It comes not necessarily from boredom with more ‘popular’ genres, but from an adversity to their over-supply – there’s just too much of what’s essentially the same. I need something that pokes my musical senses in new places.

Just last night, at London’s Koko, was a case in point, with the rather marvelous Portico Quartet in performance. They’ve come a long way these four young men. I first heard their music some six years ago, wandering along the Waterloo south bank, where they regularly busked. My wife heard them first - and we gathered round, listened and came away with the band’s self-made CD for fiver, suitably impressed.

I didn’t play the disc much and thought nothing of it until a couple of years later when the band glimpsed the limelight with their 2008 Mercury Music Prize nomination for first album ‘Knee Deep in the North Sea’. I never got ‘round to that album either, as I was still gorging on records back then, working my way through piles & piles of CDs and streams on Napster & Rhapsody, in a futile effort to find those precious few records that get under your skin and become essential slow-burning, long-lasting fuel. I had a filter (not a very good one) for finding the good stuff but no effective mechanism for discovery of what’s really different.

But, with my new priority system in play and working nicely, a portal opens for bands like Portico. And it’s a blessing because this is genuinely thrilling music. I wouldn’t classify it as Jazz. To me its hybrid music that happens to be created by four musicians playing what they play – which happens to be the Hang (look it up on Wikipedia), Soprano Sax (the curved one that looks more like a toy instrument), Bass and Drums.

So what else is different in my music world right now?

Spiro’s ‘Lightbox’ has occupied pride of place on the 2009 playlist and could well turn out to be my album of the year. Peter Gabriel describes Spiro as “soulful and passionate” and you might find, as I did, that this is pretty much spot on. Seeing them earlier this year on a major stage at WOMAD was a life-affirming experience, as is listening to this record repeatedly.

I also recommend Bill Frisell’s fascinating ‘Disfarmer’. I love an album with a theme, a story – something that immediately sets it apart from just an album. It draws me in. Frisell’s album is homage to dustbowl America as seen through the lens of depression era photographer Michael Disfarmer. It’s on Nonesuch records – a label that’s a specialist in the eclectic like no other – look out for this blog’s forthcoming case study on that Label featuring some great insights from legendary founder Bob Hurwitz.

I’ve also recently been streaming Steve Martin’s ‘banjo record’ The Crow (as it says on the cover “truly wonderful and just as advertised”) and The Unthank’s ‘Here’s The Tender Coming’. When my conscience gets a grip on me, I will invest in both albums on CD - perhaps.

Finally – just delivered on CD from Amazon is Pink Martini’s new album Splendor In The Grass. This record is a musical equivalent of treacle – The Times review summed it up: “Mamboing transvestite district attorneys, a 90-year-old Mexican ranchera singer, a Tchaikovsky piano concerto, Italian pop kitsch, missing heads, Peter Sellers’s sitar, Sesame Street singalongs and a Neapolitan lullaby”. It’s easy listening, yes (nothing wrong with that!) but it is also authentic, beautifully performed and meticulously recorded. It’s lush – a joy to behold.

Black Gives Way to Blue: The Return of AIC and resulting format confusion...

There’s nothing like music for taking you back. Seventeen years ago (at the start of my professional career) I was what you might call an angry young man. Music has always provided me with a kind of fuel – and at the time music - specifically the music of Alice In Chains, was fuelling my anger rather nicely. This past two weeks have taken me right back there, but in the best way imaginable.

Back in 1992 I was on some major systems project or other for an energy company, in the employ of Andersen Consulting, now otherwise known as Accenture. I was sharing a flat with a studious American called Floyd and a conscientious, ambitious young lady called Heidi, neither of whom could make head ‘nor tail of me or my anger.

To Floyd & Heidi, that project seemed like the place to be, the pinnacle of professional assignments. To me it just sucked. So much so, I would start my days with a loud blast of AIC’s ‘Dirt’ (I’m talking LOUD and before 8 am). I must have been the flatmate from hell. Belated apologies Floyd & Heidi wherever you are.

For those unfamiliar, Dirt is an absolute classic. It’s unforgiving, relentless, driving, bleak, but as melodic as rock gets. It was my album of the year and AIC was my favourite band then, my fuel of choice.

It was with trepidation then, that I approached the new record by AIC released just a few weeks ago. It was a real surprise to me. I read a gig review in The Guardian while I was on vacation (I had NO IDEA they had reformed). Anyone at all familiar with the group will know why this is more than a little remarkable.

What I loved about AIC is what was makes so many bands special – the blend of two great talents working together – the 2+2 making 5. In AIC’s case this is guitarist and songwriter Jerry Cantrell and, back then in the angry days of 1992 – singer and frontman Layne Staley. Cantrell brought the driving, power-drill guitars, Staley one of the most organic and original voices in rock music. The two also combined for those distinctive harmonies that made the band stand out from anything else from the grunge scene at that time, or since. But Staley was a heavy heroin user and eventually died of an overdose in 2002.

And that is what makes AIC’s revival so remarkable. Staley was essentially irreplaceable, but some years on - has been replaced. The new singer William DuVall (a 42 year old who has been around for years with other bands) not only sounds remarkably like Staley, but of course, fills in perfectly for those harmony parts, that can be heard throughout the new record in all their glory.

Black Gives Way To Blue is a fabulous album that has somehow arrived just at the right time for me personally and for other AIC fans I hope. Nearly 20 years on since I became a fan I was frankly worried I might find it too LOUD, but I don’t at all - though I do prefer the slower tracks. The title track (which features some lovely piano by none other than Elton John) is the best ballad I have heard this year. It’s about death but somehow is utterly life-affirming.

Of course, I had to have this particular record on CD. I could not possibly be satisfied by previewing a new AIC album on Spotify. Not only did the reviews reassure me it was an album good enough to invest in (there are no weak tracks on this album - it's filler free), but I didn’t want to listen to it and think it was ‘just okay’ which is how most stuff sounds to me on Spotify – not because of sound quality issues (I have some pretty good computer speakers) – but because it’s on tap, so I can never quite concentrate on it for some reason.

I didn’t want to download it either, probably because I have all AIC’s previous releases on disc (the last full album being 1995’s self-titled release). This isn’t logical either, because I'm hardly a record collector, even when it comes to my favourite bands. I can only readily find Dirt, as it sits there pride of place on my ‘All Time Classics’ shelf. Where the hell are my ‘Jar of Flies’ and ‘AIC’ albums then? Somewhere in the rubble – either in the ‘transitory cupboard’? (not current, not classic, not yet in the shed) – or surely not – actually in the shed! Or worse, gone.

So, ironically enough, I’m now back on Spotify streaming the back catalogue...convenient isn't the word. There just isn’t one way to access, listen, organise and store music these days and that’s a good thing. But sometimes it drives me crazy.

Music in-box jammed full this week. I’ve been reading about the Pixie’s outstanding re-union gig at Brixton Academy and since I don’t know their music (I’m acutely aware of my ‘music gaps’) I’m really keen to get to it. But then I am enthralled to the new Alice In Chains and Pearl Jam records and enjoying my own personal grunge revival. On the other hand, I bought three albums yesterday (7 Digital’s £5 albums are irresistible) – Editors, Ravonettes and The Flaming Lips. I’ve checked out a few tracks from the first two records and they are red hot. But I'm so enjoying The Temper Trap's 'Conditions' still. I've just received a few interesting playlists from respected music colleagues as well. And I’m still trying to work my way through The Beatles re-masters. Think I’ll just combust, it’s much easier...

Can The Beatles finally realise their ambitions?

In Richard DeLillo’s book The Longest Cocktail Party there’s an amusing passage around the release of The White Album (I think, from memory, I can no longer find my copy to check) whereby Apple Corps, the then recently formed Beatles operating company, were positively vexed by the album’s sales performance. The album – an expensive double – was comfortably installed at number one of course, but someone in the Apple camp had calculated that only one in ten households had bought the record. ‘One in ten’ seemed like an outrage – nine out of every ten households hadn’t (yet) bought it! The marketing plan – if such things existed in 1968 – became a ‘how do we get the other nine to buy it’.

Even in their heyday, The Beatles didn’t quite achieve ubiquity (indeed, another band on the EMI label – Queen – has sold more albums to date, worldwide, if my copy of Mojo rock trivia is to be believed). But the remarkable fact is, The Beatles have – as a commercial musical entity – never stopped striving for it and probably never will. Thirty years after the band split, 2000’s “1” compilation of the collective number 1 singles, broke sales records around the world and introduced the band to a whole new set of audiences. Throughout the nineties The Beatles had seen a steady renewal of interest, thanks to the rise of Britpop during that decade.

Now 2009 marks another landmark year in The Beatles commercial career, with the re-masters releases and the arrival of the band into the gaming world via Rock Band. The early sales analysis on the re-masters is impressive, with sales of 2.25 million in the first four days. See the country breakdown on Hypebot here. The campaign seems easily sustainable as Christmas approaches with those two juicy box sets to choose from – there’ll be plenty of fans who want to own both.

With the re-issue campaign being ‘insight-based’ I’m curious to know more about who has bought what of the re-masters – not just the country-based data. I’m intrigued as to whether the re-issues have found truly wide audiences as “1” did, or whether the majority of purchases have been made by the owners of previous recordings. What does the audiophile market make of the re-masters? Did they rate the stereo mixes or stick with the mono?

Also, I’m wondering if many consumers have been tempted to make their first CD purchases for a good while having otherwise ‘gone digital’ – or whether indeed the digital audience has shown any interest at all. Have any digital natives bought their first CD from this collection? If so, they may now understand what they’ve missed in never having a physical relationship with music.

Sifting through these beautifully presented packages (EMI & Apple have got this packaging decision right – no ugly jewel boxes - but attractive digipacks, with the Mono sets coming with a nicely replicated vinyl aesthetic). The Beatles records make so much sense as tangible objects. Playing back Revolver, The White Album, Abbey Road – I’ve found myself just staring at the back covers – something I haven’t done since I was a teenager, basically.

Among the Beatles’ many remarkable ‘firsts’ are breakthroughs so attached to the concept of albums – in physical form - it’s somehow hard to imagine a ‘digital Beatles’. The iconography of the cover art, the photogenic nature of the band, the sequencing of songs (alternating Lennon & McCartney-led compositions but throwing in the odd George & Ringo number in just the right spots), the fact that most of the albums are albums in the truest sense – with no actual singles taken from them at all.

Holding these products gives a sense of music worth the money – at a tenner a throw these packages and their contents are phenomenal value. This feeling is exactly (desperately) what music needs to instil in music fans – this sense of immense value from what we hold in our hands as the music plays. Can this ever be achieved with digital?

Perhaps it can, via ever more beautiful devices and with music as the killer application in those devices. But we have a long long way to go. The Beatles digitally, could deliver everything digital music so far lacks – an amazing library of context. I can imagine holding a device with which I could browse the incredibly rich vaults of artwork, photography and editorial as The Beatles’ music plays. For example, the absorbing stories of their songs as captured in Ian MacDonald’s remarkable book Revolution In The Head. That could add a new dimension to this music, but could it ever be achieved with all the rights clearances required? Would we buy it at a price that makes it all worthwhile?

Could the re-mastering process be applied to a lossless sound format for digital? If so maybe another new dimension is possible. But I guess these days, for The Beatles to finally achieve that modest ambition from 1968 to be in every household, it must come down to whether they get licensed for streaming – but I can’t see the value in that commercially for EMI & Apple. Why would they reduce a valuable, renewable asset like that to the common denominator of streaming?

The same reasoning lies behind a recent Sony decision to remove the Bob Dylan catalogue from streaming services. The classics live on forever, sell steadily and get a new lease of life every so often – a pattern that would be discontinued by availability on streaming platforms. Then again, every music fan – of any age - should hear these songs at some stage, especially now they have been re-tuned for the modern age and sound as fresh as they do timeless. For that to happen I guess The Beatles will need to join the great music library in the cloud, eventually.

Next: A new Pearl Jam album, followed by the return of Alice In Chains. Can any genre from the age of CD buying make a comeback before it’s too late?

post-note: Listening to the Beatles catalogue I had never realised how much their sound has influenced the music I've listened to most in recent years. If you are looking for a modern equivalent, try Elliot Smith, Spoon, I Am Kloot, Super Furry Animals, Brendon Benson - they all sound so much more Beatlesesque than anything from the britpop era.

The new way to listen #2: Too much music, so little time

A very good friend of mine is a very heavy CD buyer. His guilty pleasure is small but frequent (almost weekly) Amazon splurges – batches of three or four CDs, including lots of new releases. Just last week, to my surprise, his batch included albums by La Roux and Little Boots, two dangerously over-hyped UK female pop acts – not my friend’s usual fare at all.

I had to ask, why? But I do know the answer. Three years ago that’s how I used to discover new music – buying CDs on Amazon & Play.com. For us, the CD generation, it’s easy to see the attraction. At around eight-nine quid a pop, the average price is 30% below when we began buying CDs in the 80s. And with many new releases attracting good reviews, it seems like good value. As for CDs vs. downloads it seems like a no-brainer – CD wins for sound quality, last-ability, tactile comfort etc.

But this kind of consumer behaviour is anachronistic these days. For one thing, these frequently bought CDs are unlikely to be played much – nothing like to a level of frequency reaching a good return on investment. My friend admitted to both the above mentioned albums being “alright, not earth shattering”. I’m guessing he’ll never play either disc anything like enough to become nicely familiar with, or to discover any hidden depths within, the music.

I’m placing no judgement whatsoever on those two artists or their debut records. I am placing judgement though, on the times, and on how we as consumers, are best place to navigate them to enjoy our music to the full.

As engaged, interested and active music buyers, we’ll simply never ever keep up with the supply on offer. Let me bore you with the statistics. There are more records released commercially now than ever – nearly 34,000 separate albums in 2008 (BPI data) – steadily increasing every year from just over 19,000 titles released back in 2000. In the US, over 100,000 album titles were released in 2008 (Neilsen SoundScan), a large increase on any previous year, thanks to digital-only releases.

And that’s assuming that, like me, you are essentially uninterested in wading through the oceans of records released by unsigned or DIY bands via Myspace, brands and blogs. If you are interested in those then double or treble your already overwhelming choice.

However, more critically than volume is the issue of the music’s qualities. The heavy buying CD generation has invested much time & money buying up their collection of classics – those albums they return to time & again. Those albums we played in full, in a darkened room in our youth. Those records that helped us through the formative years, the early big choices in life, etc. etc. Often these were bought on CD some time after we first loved them on vinyl or on tape.

However good modern music gets, it’s so hard for new artists to compete in that space – to compete with nostalgia. And with so much new music derivative of what’s gone before, new artists are sometimes no more than an interesting twist on what’s past – the stuff we really loved and still love. Witness the recent revival of synth-based pop – never done better than the eighties. And even if the Tings Tings, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, LadyHawke, and swathe of more recent acts like Florence & The Machine can compete creatively with the eighties, can they compete emotionally with how that music caught on and connected at the time - how it joined people together en masse.

No wonder there is room even in today’s jam-packed music market for eighties revival bands – playing live and even making new records (for the record, Aha, Duran Duran and Simple Minds never actually went away). Those bands were lucky enough to come of age at a time when growing a fan base was easier. And for their fans, it’s easier nowadays to gravitate towards those artists you know, the one you invested in back in the day. It’s comforting that they’re still around.

For young music fans and for older but active music discoverers, the only way to navigate the modern level of choice is to prioritise. And this is where music consumption becomes personal – when we apply our own priorities to it. I’m thinking beyond prioritising the tools you use to discover music, though. Yes, we all will choose our favourite filters and content brands. Some of us will use Spotify to stream (for as long as we are blessed with it!), some will like to play around with Pandora or Last.fm until they perhaps get bored with those.

Less and less of us will buy a slew of CDs each week though, as these other tools present far cheaper, less risky and more convenient access points. But the new filters won’t help that much in terms of enjoyment. They’ll help filter through the dilemma of discovery – like Oysters. They’ll insure us against the hype and against the great swindle of the CD age – album filler. But they will not help us really enjoy our music listening.

To get return on investment from music, you need to invest - mostly time, but sometimes money helps, since when you buy something, you naturally give it at least some time to bed down. With current filters, you don’t need to make a financial commitment to hear most new music. But when I'm streaming the latest new release - just to gut it - it perhaps doesn't feel quite as it should, experience wise.

Would you rather listen to your favourite song 100 times or 100 songs once?

With the oversupply of music, the currency of music isn’t so much the format – CDs, downloads, streams, plays etc. – but time – how much time we have to listen and what we choose to listen to in that precious time. Since this is personal to every consumer, I’ll share with you here my own conclusions about music consumption, and my own set of priorities from now on.

The days of frequent flutters on Amazon & Play.com are done – just don’t make sense. It’s not so much a question of price, or quality - there is not enough time to give those records the proper listening they required to really enjoy them. It just results in a greater pile of albums that you never really get to know. Subsequently, very few new titles get added to your classic albums collection, most just drop into landfill.

From now on my music enjoyment is prioritised, not by payment method, or by format, but by the type of music it is. Until further notice, the following basic ‘system’ applies to my listening hours, in priority order:

1. The back catalogues of my recently discovered favourites. These include Spoon, Death Cab for Cutie and I am Kloot. For these, I know I’ll get great return on investment, so I’ll be buying these catalogues on CD. It will be an infrequent Amazon splurge. I won’t preview these on Spotify if I can help it, as I don’t need any reason to doubt the ability of these records to grow on me over time and with repeated listening.
   
2. Play all the classics at least once a year. No financial outlay required, just time. I’m of an age where if I don’t make this decision now, I’ll literally run out of time to enjoy Autoamerican by Blondie, Achtung Baby by U2, Seven by James, Stories From The Sea by PJ Harvey and the 100+ other titles I consider my own personal classics. They need to played once a year and that is going to take maybe 80 hours of listening time. That leaves no more room for Amazon splurges.


3. Listen to more music that’s ‘different’. Oh the wonders of specialist music labels like Nonesuch, ECM and Real World – labels I am undertaking right here & now to give more of my precious time to, whatever it is they might bring my way. Nonesuch just introduced me to Bill Frisell. ECM has fallen victim, temporarily, to my change in priorities, but will come ‘round as things settle down. Real World has blessed me with the music of Spiro – which has rightly received the heavy-rotation treatment in recent weeks at the expense of everything else. It might even be a modern classic. I want to give more time to alternative genres for so many reasons, not least I want my three daughters to grow up hearing music from all over the world, not be confined to western pop. Label brands come into their own in times like these and there will be case studies featured on this blog in future on the labels I think work on this level. I guess this will be a combination of streaming & buying, and for these labels I will maintain a direct relationship - on the mailing list, basically.


4. Give the old masters more time. It’s getting tight now, timewise. I don’t really know the catalogues of Dylan, Leonard Cohen or Springsteen, beyond the obvious handful of songs. I suspect their stuff is worth some investment though. It has to be – everybody in the world says so. I have in my current collection best-of’s by all of these - that'll be where I start. There are so many classics to discover, that anything I've seen live or in a different context will get immediate priority. So Crosby Stills & Nash for example, I’m suddenly interested in after their superlative display at Glastonbury. I have just invested in some Peter Gabriel catalogue after seeing him at WOMAD. and I'm listening to Ry Cooder after seeing him at The Lyceum last month. Another late great discovery for me personally. These classic artists are shouting loud and clear ‘We Can No Longer Be Ignored’.


5. New stuff when the hype has settled. And so here we are. New music has been re-prioritised out of sheer necessity. It’s not that I won’t listen to new music, I always will. I’m the guy so many people rely on for recommendations after all. But I’ll struggle to recommend anything brand spanking new from now on, because for me it needs to earn its place in my ears. I’m tempted to buy new records all the time, but I’ll happily wait until the hype has settled and time has done its work. I don’t see much point in investing in artists that won’t last, since I enjoy going on a journey with the artists I like, seeing how their work progresses, evolves or changes direction. It’s the pleasure and privilege of being a Radiohead fan, for example, even if that can also frustrate from time to time. And here is where Spotify comes into its own – I can take my time and work my way through new release without spending a fortune. Whether or not this is good business for the industry I doubt, but it works for me.

For me, music discovery has always been a search for the next addition to the classics – the next record that has the power to literally become part of my life, part of me. With 40 years of listening behind me and hopefully at least 40 more to go, it’s time to apply a strategy to ensure I get to discover, hear and enjoy as much music as possible that has the potential to become a personal classic. The ephemeral stuff can pass me by, I just don't have the time. If it’s too good to miss, something or someone will alert me to it, I hope.

I’m always vaguely excited about forthcoming music and for the next few months, that would be The Arctic Monkeys, Portico Quartet, Laura Veirs and my new favourite band I Am Kloot. There's nothing better than discovering artists late, when you can catch up on back catalogue at leisure, as with reading all the novels of a great author you just found out about. I love that serendipity and hope that will always be part of my music discovery. More to come on that next...

The new way to listen to music – self-imposed scarcity

This week I finally received my copy of Spoon’s GaGaGaGaGa (snappy title guys) from Amazon. It was one of those where Amazon undertakes to get it for you not from its own warehouse, but from some tiny shop in a small mid-west American town what has one of the two last remaining copies on the planet (why is this album so unavailable?). Subsequently it’s taken about eight weeks to arrive.

In fact, I ordered it shortly after writing the ‘Music Discovery, Spoon Fed’ post back in mid-April. Have I minded? Yes I have, a bit. Of course I wanted to hear it, was dying to. But I’m a patient guy. I dipped into Spotify of course, as one does. Not there. Spotify has ‘Gimme Fiction’ by Spoon and I streamed that. (Quick aside: Spotify has got approximately one in every three albums I search for – are my tastes becoming so obscure?). Last.fm didn’t have GaGa either (let’s use the short version). At this point I can’t get to hear it, basically, and I’m thinking, that’s a savvy move by Spoon. Maybe they know I’m a fan since I connected with them on Daytrotter.com. More chance of me becoming a lifelong fan if I buy rather than stream GaGa. If I’d streamed it, like I did with Gimme Fiction, maybe I’d still be considering buying it, in a somewhat non-committal fashion, like I am with Gimme Fiction. Yes I realize I could easily get it from Bit Torrent etc. but I’m not that kind of music fan.

As it is, not only have I bought it, but patiently waited for two whole months to finally hear it. Now here’s the punchline though (no it’s not that the record was released in 2007, though that’s true). It was well worth the wait. It’s sooooo gogogogogood. This album is the best thing I’ve heard in about three weeks – only because I’ve been listening to a very high standard recently – stay with me.

Having been denied GaGa during the overlong Amazon source-pick-pack-ship process, I subjected the album to the 'New Way I Listen to Albums' treatment. This is basically what music journalists used to call ‘heavy rotation’. I first gave it an initial late-night spin on the CD player, through headphones. I was immediately impressed. Next morning I ripped it into iTunes and played it back over & over for at least 2-3 days. I was commuting into town and so I got through the record from start to finish at least 6-7 times in this initial period, becoming familiar with the sequencing, certain lyrical couplets starting to connect with me in a very relevant sort of way.

Then as the week progressed I had the chance to get it on the stereo through the speakers (B&W 686’s, I love ‘em). It sounded ACE. The opening track blew me away, just the sound of it. Spoon can play, no question, but it was more the production that blew my mind. Whoever produced this record knew exactly what they were about. The second track is 'The Ghost Of You Lingers' and you might already know how I feel about that track from the earlier post. This was the first time I’d heard the studio version, properly. It is one of the best things I’ve ever heard. I will keep coming back to this track forever.

But here’s the thing – the album just gets better and better from there. After ‘Ghost’ which is a really heavy, almost disorientating listen, the mood lightens wonderfully with ‘Cherry Bomb’ which is just a great, great pop song. Pop, pure & simple, with a nice brass ensemble – lovely touch. Very uplifting. I can’t exactly go on like this track for track, so to cut a long story short, it dawned on me that the album format will never die, ever, thanks to records like this. Because what takes a great album is much more than a collection of songs.

The songs have to be good of course. There isn’t a single filler track on GaGa, it simply ebbs & flows brilliance throughout. So songs, tick. Production, tick. The playing is phenomenal – great musicianship. The rhythm section especially. Tick. The track sequencing is just great, so you don’t skip tracks or shuffle or even want to turn it off until it ends. Each song amplifies the next and when you become familiar with it, you simply look forward to hearing the next song. Even the album sleeve is intriguing – some artist at work on a major ‘installation’ and a collage of burlesque-like ladies on the back. Good shot of the band on the inside (I still don’t like it when you don’t get a band portrait, which is common on indie releases for some reason). It’s all just a fabulous ‘in the zone’ thing. And it’s not even a concept album! (I’m partial to concept albums, future post coming).

Now on the business side, who knows? I know I couldn’t get hold of it here, but my understanding is that in the US, Spoon have slow-burned their way to a reasonably successful commercial career. All their previous records have got very decent reviews and Spoon's Wikipedia entry seems to describe a nicely escalating commercial success with each successive release. Damn right too.

So how come it’s only the best album I’ve heard in three weeks. Well, it’s because I’ve had a really good run lately. This is down to good taste (sorry to be modest), good choices and luck I guess. But I recently bought John Vanderslice latest album Romanian Names. Don’t get me started with this one. Also brilliant. Why did this record get ignored by the UK music press? I didn’t see one single review. It’s awesome, ticking every box like the Spoon record, and with Vanderslice’s talent for evoking mysterious little stories within his songs.

The track ‘Too Much Time’ has become my theme tune. The lyrics are the best I’ve heard in ages ("freedom is overrated" etc.). Again, I subjected it to the new listening method, finding that I didn’t want to listen to anything else that week I was enjoying Romanian Names so much, just wasn’t interested in anything else. And the production on that record is amazing. The acoustic guitar ‘solo’ on ‘Fetal Horses’ says it all.

Finally, the exact same thing happened with another recent catalogue purchase (part of 2 for £10 in HMV this time) – Death Cab For Cutie’s ‘Plans’. The most recent record was in my top ten last year anyhow, but Plans is better. Again, it’s a completely successful album, creatively speaking. Songs (those fabulous Ben Gibbard lyrics), musicianship (bassline & drum combo on 'Summer Skin'), production, sound, sequence. Once again, it’s all there, meticulously and beautifully executed, for our listening pleasure.

Give it a try. Put the temptation to stream every new over-hyped record-of-the-day on Spotify to one side for a week or so and try my new method. Make one album the soundtrack to your life for at least one week and see what happens. It’s addictive actually.

I’ve spent my whole listening career basically searching for the next breakthrough record for me – the next life-affirming set of songs that you can call on and rely on as a resource – come rain or shine. But I reckon they’re harder to find these days, what with the sheer number of releases (of pretty good sounding records, mind). You just have to pick them out, buy them (even if you have to wait a while for them to arrive) and then ignore everything else for a while. Create your own scarcity, basically. It works.


Footnote: Now it’s obvious I’m a fan of a certain genre here - American Indie I suppose, though I prefer to call it ‘sophisticated pop’. In a discussion with Conrad Lambert last week (just about my favourite European artist, aka Merz) we talked about why this sophisticated pop genre is so dominated by American bands. For example I also love Wilco, Laura Viers and Sparklehorse. I like Nada Surf, Silversun Pickups and The National. And there are really strong new bands like The Local Natives et al. – this music in abundant in America. Basically, it’s the size of the country I guess. There doesn’t seem to be a UK equivalent scene, unless I’m missing something. The best UK record I’ve heard this year so far has been Madness’s Liberty Of Norton Folgate! Blur is back though, and of course, our National Treasures The Arctic Monkeys. Make do I suppose.

Marketing the mid-tail: how the business must do more for great records by established bands

In 2007 Turin Brakes released the album Dark On Fire. Have you heard it? It's a great record. Great tunes (hardly a weak moment among the entire 12 track set), heartfelt lyrics, superb musicianship and a wonderful sound. It represents a career high for a band which, until then - despite a couple of hits - had just trudged along – for three albums. But they still just trudge along, the issue being that nowhere near enough people heard or bought Dark On Fire.

Every music fan has a list of albums like this. Records they love, play to everybody they know and talk about a lot, but no-one else actually has. As for record companies, well, they have a shed load of unsuccessful records of course - at least 20 misses for every hit – that's the standard business model. But each label also has a good bunch of skeletons in the cupboard –great records that sold next to nothing. It's how a lot of artist and label relationships come to an end, when the label decides it has done everything in its power to take the band to the next level, but it just hasn't worked.

Now of course, I realise that sadly, we don't exist in a world where talent rises biologically to the top. The entertainment world is many things but Darwinian in nature it isn't. From time-to-time, positively vacuous movies, books and records make massive global hits – hardly anyone seems to truly understand why this happens. Meanwhile, genuine works of art go unwatched, unread and unheard. That's just the way of things in entertainment media. In some ways you have to have more admiration for people who do produce the big blockbuster hits – they somehow captured the public's collective imagination, or lack of it – a true marketing skill.

But in this case I'm talking about neither the hits or the obscure, out-of-time lost classics. I'm talking about great records by established, if not yet superstar bands. Subjectivity is not the issue here. When you are a producer of records day in day out, you know when your charges have created something special. Dark On Fire was Turin Brakes out of their skin. Last month I wrote about Starsailor's All The Plans – again, out of their skin. You simply cannot argue with genuinely good song writing and execution by bands that already have a proven track record. But then, these great records still bomb – and quite often. Why? It's a question bands, managers and labels should investigate, post-mortem, government-enquiry, coroners-inquest style.

The first problem is of course, that it’s hard to determine any one factor contributing to the lack of deserved success. But if anything, suspect number one will be lack of radio support. The radio has so much to answer for in the workings of the modern mainstream music business. Any marketing executive from outside the music business is vexed and slightly amused by the relationship between records and radio. Certain bands occupy radio slots like they own them, whether or not they release a good single or a stinker. Meanwhile whole swathes of new bands and great new sounds can't get a look in, certainly not across daytime slots. Frankly, if a total overhaul of the relationship between music & radio was called for, that wouldn't be a bad thing in my book.

But lack of radio support can't be an excuse for a failed marketing campaign – not these days. Radio might still be where the casual majority hear new music, but digital platforms register the most growth in influence, especially for the under 30s demographic. Digital platforms are more fragmented than radio in terms of audience reach, but for a new artist, they represent a greater opportunity in aggregate than chasing precious, unobtainable radio slots.

The next culprit is the supply system itself. Release schedules are crammed (especially the notoriously over-crowded 4th quarter) and physical music retail is in complete disarray. If you are not a superstar act in the promotional stratosphere (and if you were you would probably be taking up way more than your entitled share of TV & radio-slots and retail space) you can only hope that enough supporters somewhere along the value chain will champion you to the point where the punters take note.

Suspect number three might be the artist themselves. Are they willing to go the extra mile for their baby? Get off a high horse or two perhaps? Really work it – blood, sweat, tears? I wouldn't blame artists for complaining about promo schedules in the way Paul McCartney did before the release of Memory Almost Full (through Starbucks). Macca, at sixty-odd, was willing to work as hard as any artist one third his age, but was simply crying out for something different to do other than hawk himself around an endless circuit of radio and TV stations. Apart from a few genuine over-precious cases, the artist is not culpable.

Finally, the last suspects are consumers. Like the radio, they (we) also have a lot to answer for. A large chunk of the record buying public (deliberately chosen anachronism there) are lazy in the extreme. That's party how some superstar acts get away with somewhat rocky creative periods – the people continue to buy their stuff because that's all they know! Fact: the number one reason people claim they don't by as much music as they should – lack of information – they don't know what to buy. They are quite literally stuck in a groove.

It seems to me that if every record released has to go Route 1 through radio, TV and retail in a vain attempt to reach a respectable chart position, many genuinely good albums will simply fall by the wayside. There simply are not enough effective media or retail slots available to every record justice.

So what's the answer to maximising a great record in these days of fragmented mainstream media but ubiquitous, commoditised music?

At the risk of being coy about potential solutions to this I am going to be deliberately careful here. I've already littered previous posts with potential routes to market for new bands, but for established bands (with or without record deals) it is in many ways trickier. You have history to contend with. When you're on the 3rd or 4th album bands tend to have a certain vibe going on with the media – who either will still feel goodwill towards the band or will have become long since bored. If it's the latter you are dead through this route, try the alternatives:

Digital + Live

While record labels have marketing departments and talk about getting records to market, a lot of the mainstream activity isn't really marketing as such, but promotion. Even established bands should go back to roots, focusing around a combination of web & live, where fan data can be combined with a deeper connection to the artist and the scarcity of the live performance.

There can be few better examples of working web & live than The Script, signed to the Sony label. But the Script is a new group, not established. For an established band to do the equivalent, they would need to accept the idea of touring much more extensively, perhaps taking residences in smaller venues and/or taking the support slot for a superstar act. More touring festivals could work well here, especially in the current value-seeking climate.

Marketing not promotion

There are occasional examples of record campaigns that look more like marketing in that the approach is either more subtle or radical than simply scatter-gunning (or if you have a bigger budget, carpet-bombing) media placements. For example, Radiohead's approach with In Rainbows was to radically alter the marketing mix – in this case price and place. Coldplay chose a classic give-away-the-song-to-sell-the-album, but also went for a pretty startling art and styling theme – risky but clever, since rarely do big artists choose to radically alter their image. But these are superstar acts of course, not the immediate subject here. It's harder to find examples of marketing innovation lower down the food chain.

Look out for The Hours' current campaign. Here the band – second album in - leverages its relationship with a 3rd party – in this case the artist Damian Hirst – to achieve something different. The Hours has teamed up with The Guardian & Observer Music Monthly (also note, a good audience fit for the band) for the launch of new album See The Light. The Observer and Guardian ran a month-long teaser campaign offering consumers the chance to win a Damien Hirst original piece around the album's cover theme. Just how much it built anticipation for the album is harder to tell though.

What's the rush?

Finally, the slow-burn must come into it. With most album campaigns spanning not much more than a quarter-year, truly great records may not have time to reach the audiences deserved before attention spans waver on behalf of everyone involved - except the potential audience. As a listener, I don't care whether a record is new or not - it's new to me that's the important thing. This shouldn’t happen for the best records - grind it out for the best. It didn’t for Elbow’s Seldom Seen Kid - now bring back the 18-month long album campaign!

A cure for industry breakdown - Elbow grease

I just checked on Elbow's UK sales for The Seldom Seen Kid, which have just cruised past the 500k mark. When I first posted on Elbow's momentum and the contributing factors to it back in September, sales had just past 150k. But Fiction boss Jim Chancellor confidently suggested the album would reach platinum. I believed him. I suggested an arena or two might be in the offing at last? It was in plan said Jim – and was signed, sealed and delivered with aplomb at their triumphant Wembley show a couple of weeks back (my music mistake of the year so far: not attending that show).

At that time the band had just won the Mercury Music Prize, so platinum sales and arena shows looked very much on, but even Chancellor probably wouldn't have bet on a Brit, which the band won in February. And so, Elbow was resurrected from a languishing obscurity. Their wonderful, but very 'unpop' Seldom Seen Kid Album has become popular (let's not overdo it, The Seldom Seen Kid ranked 35th best-selling album for 2008, though is by far the most 'progish' repertoire on that list) and will probably tick-over into double-platinum (UK sales of 600k) at some stage this year.

This is all great of course, with the band themselves and Garvey in particular, seemingly able to enjoy their long-awaited success with a lovely humbleness – basking in it without melting in it, and at the same time none of the awkward embarrassment that can often come when 'indie' bands break into the mainstream. When Garvey says “it's been good being me of late” on his 6 Music show (if you haven't discovered it yet, do, it's a genuine radio gem) it comes across as genuine appreciation.

Better than great in fact, Elbow's success is refreshing. The sometimes cynical UK music press has launched no backlash at all, not a hint of it. Instead, just continued good will. I've yet to come across one hard core Elbow fan to reel from their mainstream success. Maybe in these hard times, a little glory to the underdog is simply appreciated. Of course, the whole episode is underpinned by sheer quality. Listening to “Grounds For Divorce” and “Weather To Fly” this week, those two tracks are still revealing new qualities to me now, 18 months after first hearing them, and listening to them lots.

Elbow's success is now widely recognised and often referenced. In reviews for new releases by Starsailor, Doves and The Hours (all of which are very good records) you'll find obvious references to Elbow as unlikely but welcome trailblazers. I've been thinking though, could Elbow's success have a greater significance for the music business itself? It has certainly lifted the mood (as well as raised the stakes) in many record label marketing camps for other indie bands. In these hard times that is much appreciated. Perhaps there is now room for a bit of confident swagger in the way the campaigns for these records are executed. People really want this stuff! And there's no doubt The Seldom Seen Kid has nicely created a public appetite for more of it.

Being both fun and serious and about it, Elbow's success has scratched some very stubborn itches that have plagued the ailing record business for quite a while:

• Labels: Think the 18 month long album campaign is dead in the age of immediacy and music-streaming-file-sharing ubiquity? Not necessarily - The Seldom Seen Kid


• New bands: Can you survive in the cut & thrust of today's ruthless business, with one or two album deals and at best, three-strikes-before-your out? You just might – Elbow


• Old bands: In the hole? Sales & audiences falling despite delivering your best work? Past your prime but not past your best? Do carry on – Elbow!


• Fans: Think the age where you go to a gig and hear a charismatic front man not only talk between songs, but actually say something entertaining and informative (possibly to you directly?) are sadly gone? No! - Guy Garvey – man of the people and master of audience participation


• Music press, retailers: Think bands that don't erm, scrub up too well, will struggle to find a large audience through mainstream media? Not always – Elbow!


• Everybody: Think a complex, melancholy 'unpop' record can't become a mainstream blockbuster hit? Wrong – The Seldom Seen Kid


• Everybody: Think a band with a terribly dull name will struggle to catch on? Wrong – Elbow! (okay, there's also Coldplay, Oasis etc.).

But where does Elbow go from here? What's next? Obviously there's the question of America and subsequent global super-stardom. What about Elbow The Movie? Personally I would love to see something done in the spirit of Wilco's “I'm Trying to Break Your Heart” or “Ashes of American Flags”. I'll be there for the theatrical release and the DVD, and the coffee table book.

Probably best of all, this band of 18 years in the making, that have worked blood, sweat & tears and must have been several times on the brink of throwing in the towel, is currently writing a new album and no doubt, will make several more after that. That way, they don't miss out on anything and nor do we. At least something in the music business is working.

Hoist the sails, this is really good. But what direction does Starsailor set now?

Starsailor. That name doesn’t inspire let’s be honest.

But then, the name Coldplay didn’t at first, much. It hardly rolled off the tongue, but by the time Coldplay became a household name that hardly mattered. Now the word ‘Coldplay’ is part of our global language.

It might have gone the same way for Starsailor, but it didn’t turn out like that. They blasted off well enough with first album Good Souls, back in 2001, which NME called ‘an album of real musical depth’. It did very well commercially with UK sales of 550k (to date, UK Chart co.). But then the band got caught up in themselves a little bit, probably under pressure to do as well or better second time around, and the follow-up album ‘Silence Is Easy’, stuttered. Both critics and fans liked it less and it showed commercially, with 270k sales. Not bad, but still a 50% drop on the debut.

Starsailor was always far better than indie landfill, but could sail close to being bland, which didn’t endear them to a wide audience for long. Even the band’s singer James Walsh once told a festival audience that “saying you like Starsailor is never going to get you laid”. That summed up their position at that time perfectly. But by album number three things got worse, as the band found themselves firmly ‘on the outside’ as that record’s title suggested.

Actually, they were in ‘The Hole’. The Hole is something I explained (and charted) in the post on Elbow last year. It’s not a place any well meaning career band wants to find itself, because you cannot write - record or perform your way out of it. In fact, you may be creatively improving and you might get better reviews, but your audience and your sales continue to dwindle. And your label accountant doesn’t miss those. What you need is a fresh injection of belief, from both within the band and from the help. Coincidentally, Starsailor are in a hole as deep as Elbow was, with both third albums shifting just 80k units despite improved critical and fan reviews (see chart).

Eight years on from album one, re-entering the atmosphere (sorry, that’s it for the crappy galaxy metaphors) comes Starsailor again, with album four ‘All The Plans’. This is, take it from me, a very good record. Whether you can set aside your prejudice and enjoy it for what it is however, is another matter. But sometimes that’s exactly when you can enjoy music the most isn’t it? When it comes from an unexpected source and hits you right where it hurts – in your own musical preconceptions. Ooof, feel that!

It first happened to me with Duran Duran’s 'Notorious'. I hated them, but I loved it. I tried to resist, but in the end I submitted to it and was converted into a late-coming, unashamed life-long Duranie - and that feels good! It happened again more recently with Wilco’s 'A Ghost Is Born', which made me wonder how on earth I’d missed 'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot'. Somehow, when your converted to a band in this way, you warm to the artist even more than if you liked them from the off. It’s a respect thing I guess. You respect that they, the artist, has made something that has changed you.

But that isn’t exactly an insight that Virgin, Starsailor’s label, can work with I don’t think. The label now has a mixed blessing on its hands. Because the band has delivered with this richly creative, un-self-conscious, genuine, passionate record - and now it’s the label’s turn to deliver its end of the bargain.

So now what? This is a very interesting question for the label (and the band!) so let’s briefly examine the options.

Maybe, Virgin could simply prioritise the record over its other releases (something not easy to do for a band so deep in the hole). And even if it did this, what exactly does that entail? Cranking the promotion machine up to 11? Working the album for longer? Throwing more budget at it? (and convincing top management it'll be worth it). Strike option 3, this is the recession.

Is there truly something different that can be done when it comes to marketing (as opposed to promoting) a record, when you know that record is exceptional? I’m not talking about gimmicks by the way. Sure, Radiohead went & did the best marketing strategy in ages with In Rainbows. But was it really more than a gimmick writ large? It’s certainly not something that can be routinely done. Even by Radiohead’s own admission, it will be different next time.

You could always go for the covermount option, but that’s a cheap shot really isn’t it? Take the money, save a lot of money you would have needed to spend on promo, and go home knowing that 90% of a newspaper’s loyal readers will toss your plastic in the bin on the way out of the newsagents. It isn’t dignified.

You could try & synch the album tracks like crazy. I read recently that James Walsh went over to the USA and performed the new songs acoustically to music supervisors, so the band is already working that space, hard. That sounds like real work – no lazy artists here. But synch has become par for the course these days. Every label & manager worth their salt is at it, fighting for slots on the big US and UK ‘music shows’, now firmly actually television dramas.

Could Virgin have released the album via a brand partnership? All The Plans isn’t a record for brands. It’s a heartfelt thing that is meant to be universally appealing. It’s a record of simple melodies and small understated anthems. Not sure Doritos would be interested anyway even if the band was to be honest.

The label could work the album stateside, where the record has potentially broad appeal and the band less baggage. But that’s just a bigger, harder slog than grinding it out over here. We are seriously running out of options here. Just what is the answer?

Maybe we really know. I’ve started it off already, here, by telling you I love a Starsailor record! I’m going way out on a limb here this is a big risk you know! I’ve built my reputation on recommending great music to people. Real music. But All The Plans is real music.

Somehow, Virgin and Starsailor have to work as a team with this record to gain a groundswell and regain the audience the band has lost. But the band's fans have to do the selling, first by reconnecting. Could Starsailor play some intimate free gigs for the hard core fan base, performing the whole album? Perhaps on condition those invited bring along a close friend who isn’t a fan. Reach out for the to-be-converted. There’s a raft of ideas to brainstorm - “imagine, then do” as Terry McBride says. A groundswell strategy is mostly a combination of digital and live, the mainstream media slots aren't as effective these days (but the traditional slots can’t be ignored either).

The inspiration here undoubtedly, is our friends in the north and Starsailor’s own north western neighbours, Elbow. If you make a record for the people, it deserves to be heard by as many people as possible.

U2's most creative record yet! No idea about their new stuff though

Have U2 released a new album or something? It seems like they must have because they are literally everywhere you look. I'm not one for going along with hype, much, as regular readers know. I waited until their second album before I gave the Artic Monkeys a go (a good decision well worth the wait).

So I will give U2's new album a listen, eventually, but we might well enter the second decade of the century before I get around to it. I haven't streamed it on Spotify. The single has washed over me once or twice, no big deal. I haven't read about it, apart from snippets in Observer Music Monthly and Alexi Petredis's review in The Guardian (and that's because I read both OMM and Film & Music cover to cover every time no matter what's in them).

But on Sunday night, with TV options closed down as Mrs J. watched Brothers & Sisters (just what the hell is Brothers & Sisters about anyway?), I had a quality music-time window of a good hour. And for some reason, can't think why, I felt compelled to listen to U2. Maybe it's because Bono at least has been in my thoughts recently. His claim to be bored of himself has somewhat resonated with me. We all get bored of ourselves from time to time and for one, I'm taking a break from the usual routine, starting with a different approach for The Brew. Lucky you!

So what did I listen to? It couldn't be Achtung Baby because that record is too much of an upheaval for me. I have to make an appointment to listen to that album, because it is very special to me. It's the U2 record that won me over to them, in spectacular fashion. It represents an era. It takes me back to 1992, Chicago, and a huge cold lake I spent a lot of time running around and a lot of mental energy fighting off a desire to swim into the middle of. But of a Sunday evening in 2009, I needed a lighter listen, so it had to be Zooropa.

What a cracker of a record it is as well. U2 surprised everybody when they released Zooropa, probably including themselves. It was an overflow of creativity from the Achtung Baby sessions but it is not an overspill record, it's one of their best. In fact its the one U2 album I can get anybody to like, especially people who generally have no time for U2. It still sounds fresh, which is testament to what a breath of fresh air it was way back in 1993.

Was this album the model for Radiohead's Kid A? Could have been. And should be for any band who've become to big for their boots and want to take a break from the pressure or the monotony of being themselves. I don't know if that includes U2 these days, who are too much like royalty to really let go. But it must be time for Coldplay to release their Zooropa/Kid A in 2009? The opportunity's here boys.

Zooropa is often thought of as U2's 'experimental' record but in fact it isn't really at all. It's far too accessible to be experimental. The opening title track sounds lovely and of course has a thrilling transformation halfway through into something as anthemic and inspiring as U2 has ever done. The way it converts from one thing into another like that is a great opening statement as to how the rest of the album might go. The confidence comes through on that opener and every track that follows. The album has one of Bono's best ballads in Stay and one of U2's greatest songs in Dirty Day. Only Numb and Daddy's Gonna Pay For Your Crashed Car are experimental, but not (too) boring. But it was the refreshing pop that surprised, and warmed everybody to Zooropa when it was released. Babyface is just great, simple, off-hand, catchy pop. As is Lemon and the fun, if trivial, Some Days Are Better Than Others.

The whole thing is also an economical ten tracks and just fifty minutes long. It's impossible to get bored of Zooropa and it's the inspiration behind the change of pace this week on Juggernaut. Yep, something a bit different on The Brew this week. I'll be posting every day. Shorter than the usual stuff though. I'll share a few more thoughts on music and maybe a few less on the business. I might even explain the whole Juggernaut Brew thing to close the week out. I'll be twittering before you know it.

Five great 'departure' from the usual albums, with great creative results:

1. Zooropa.

2. Kid A.

3. Wilco: Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

4. Blondie: Autoamerican.

5. Julian Cope: Peggy Suicide.