In June, Williams lashed out at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, Public Knowledge and Creative Commons with a mistake-filled broadside whose accusations were quickly debunked.

At the time, Lawrence Lessig (Harvard law professor, founding board member of CC, and former board member of EFF) invited Williams to discuss the issues in a public debate. A month later, Williams has declined the invitation with a truly incredible response. Among the highlights, is Williams’ close:

What I find most fascinating is that those who purport to support a climate of free culture work so hard to silence opposing points of view. They will not silence me.

Paul Williams apparently lives in a parallel universe in which an invitation to debate, in public, is a clandestine effort to silence. At least his royalty checks for “You and Me Against the World” still seem to be finding him.

Cool tribute to Loretta Lynn

On last year’s Sea of Tears [review], Eilen Jewell stepped up from folk and country sounds to electric twang. She dropped the fiddle and harmonica of her earlier releases and sang solo with a rockabilly-styled trio of guitar, bass and drums. That same trio format, with the thoroughly stellar Jerry Miller on guitar and pedal steel, is employed for this terrific salute to Loretta Lynn. The band plays blue and lightly rocking across a dozen covers, melding Jewell’s jazz-tipped vocals with twang-heavy guitars and tempos that turn the ballads into sorrowful two-steppers and the rest into perfectly restrained rockers. You can hear Lynn in every track, but what you won’t hear is Jewell copying the subject of her tribute.

Jewell isn’t as feisty a singer as Lynn, which keeps “Fist City” and “You Ain’t Woman Enough (To Take My Man)” from delivering the originals’ heat. To be fair, Lynn wrote and sang these songs when such outspokenness, at least from a female country singer, delivered a shock and element of liberation that’s not available to a contemporary vocalist. Jewell’s cool approach works perfectly on the sly “You Wanna Give Me a Lift” as she brushes off an overly amorous suitor with the lyric “I’m a little bit warm, but that don’t mean I’m on fire.” For “Don’t Come Home A- Drinkin’ (With Lovin’ on Your Mind),” Jewell offers a promise of forgiveness in place of a half-cocked frying pan, and it works very nicely.

Lynn’s originals are filtered through Jewell’s influences, so while these new recordings pay homage to the hits, they’re distinct interpretations influenced by the blue emotions of Patsy Cline, Billie Holiday, Connie Francis, and the torchy styles of Big Sandy and Julie London.  Jewell sings most everything solo, doubling herself on the superbly forlorn “I’m a Honky Tonk Girl” and leaving Miller’s guitar to provide the second voice elsewhere. Miller’s steel playing on “A Man I Hardly Know” is superb, and the bouncy “You’re Looking at Country” closes the album on a convincing note: Jewell’s a bit jazz, a bit blues, a bit rockabilly and a whole lot country. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Listen to samples from Butcher Holler
Eilen Jewell’s Home Page
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Rockin’ sampler of Cheap Trick live tracks

The Legacy division of Sony continues to explore new ways to keep the CD relevant. Their Playlist series was the first out of the gate with eco-friendly packaging that used 100% recycled cardboard, no plastic, and on-disc PDFs in place of paper booklets. Their new Setlist series follows the same path of a single disc that provide an aficionado’s snapshot of an artist’s catalog. In this case the anthologies turn from the studio to the stage, pulling together tracks from an artist’s live repertoire, generally all previously released, but in a few cases adding previously unreleased items. As with the Playlist collections, the Setlist discs aren’t greatest hits packages; instead, they forgo some obvious catalog highlights to give listeners a chance to hear great, lesser-known songs from the band’s stage act.

Cheap Trick’s volume of Setlist features eleven tracks drawn primarily from the late ‘70s, including a generous helping borrowed from Sex America Cheap Trick and At Budokan. Filling out the set are tracks from Found all the Parts, the extended reissue of Dream Police, and 2000’s Authorized Greatest Hits. Everything here has been issued before, but pulling together tracks from 1977 through 1979, plus a pair from 1988, gives a fuller sense of Cheap Trick as a live act than their breakthrough Budokan album. In particular, the lengthy opening cover (from a 1977 show at Los Angeles’ Whiskey a Go Go) of Dylan’s “Mrs. Henry” provides a terrific view of the band’s Who-like power and abandon, with excellent drumming from Bun E. Carlos and blazing guitar and bass from Rick Nielsen and Tom Petersson. Cheap Trick may have earned a reputation as one of power pop’s greatest exponents, but they could be downright heavy when they wanted to.

The same 1977 Whiskey date also provides “Ballad of TV Violence,” which shows the edgy emotion and raw power of Robin Zander’s voice better than the more famous Budokan cuts, “I Want You to Want Me” and “Surrender.” And after a seven-year hiatus from the band, bassist Tom Petersson stepped to the microphone to sing “I Know What I Want” at a 1988 date in Daytona Beach; from the same show, the band performs their overwrought, yet chart-topping and crowd-pleasing hit, “The Flame.” Throughout this collection Cheap Trick proves and over what a great live band they are, and how well their songs translate from studio to stage. Fans may already have all of these tracks, but anyone who knows only a hit or two will find this a worthy introduction to the power and the glory that is Cheap Trick on stage. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Nice overview of Johnny Cash as a performer and entertainer

The Legacy division of Sony continues to explore new ways to keep the CD relevant. Their Playlist series was the first out of the gate with eco-friendly packaging that used 100% recycled cardboard, no plastic, and on-disc PDFs in place of paper booklets. Their new Setlist series follows the same path of a single disc that provide an aficionado’s snapshot of an artist’s catalog. In this case the anthologies turn from the studio to the stage, pulling together tracks from an artist’s live repertoire, generally all previously released, but in a few cases adding previously unreleased items. As with the Playlist collections, the Setlist discs aren’t greatest hits packages; instead, they forgo some obvious catalog highlights to give listeners a chance to hear great, lesser-known songs from the artist’s stage act.

Johnny Cash’s volume of Setlist features fourteen tracks drawn from only four years of performing, 1968-72, yet the range of venues and audiences shows off the breadth of Cash as a performer and entertainer. In addition to his two iconic live albums recorded at Folsom and San Quentin Prison, Cash also performed for down home audiences at the Ryman Auditorium and uptown city slickers at Madison Square Garden. He sang for Swedish prisoners and American presidents, and hosted a national television show that bridged hippies and squares. Everything here has been issued before, but unlike the full-concert albums and videos, this collection gives a sense of Cash’s universality, rather than the depth with which he connected to each specific audience.

The Folsom and San Quentin tracks (“Folsom Prison Blues,” “I Got a Woman,” “Wreck of the Old 97,” “I Walk the Line” and “Big River”) are the most familiar – and if they’re not, you’re recommended to the full albums and videos [1 2]. Less famous is Cash’s performance of his original “What is Truth” at the White House in 1970. He shook off Nixon’s request for “Okie From Muskogee” and “Welfare Cadillac,” and challenged the sitting president with songs of the underclass. Cash seems nearly exhausted by the cultural conflicts of the times as he asks for understanding of the young people who would soon inherit the country. Cash’s humor and his chemistry with wife June are shown in a warm 1969 medley of “Darlin’ Companion,” “If I Were a Carpenter,” and “Jackson” recorded at the home of the Grand Ol’ Opry for his television show.

Cash sings his Christian faith in a pair of gospel songs, but it’s the firmness with which he stands by the world’s underdogs that really shows his beliefs in practice; every time he steps onto the stage he earns his Man in Black nickname. Cash’s best-known live song, “A Boy Named Sue,” which he debuted at his 1969 San Quentin concert, is heard here in a 1972 performance at Sweden’s Österåker Prison. By this point the song had been a big hit, and so the audience doesn’t have the hysterical reaction of the earlier recording, but Cash still sings it with the same sly smile as the single. The collection’s tracks are thoughtfully selected and sequenced, with tracks from different concerts flowing impressively. This is no substitute for the full concert recordings, but it’s a terrific single-disc introduction to Johnny Cash in his performing prime. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Meditative acoustic-guitar solo from Two Gallants drummer

Two Gallants’ drummer Tyson Vogel shows off his skills as a guitarist with this mostly-instrumental solo debut. Unlike his group’s lo-fi electro-acoustic punk-folk, Vogel’s solo work is a great deal more meditative, shorn of Adam Stephens ragged, adrenaline-charged vocals and the crack and ringing of Vogel’s own drums and cymbals. His acoustic guitar, which suggests Will Ackerman and John Fahey, is joined by guest players on violin, cello and vibraphone, but it’s his own syncopated picking that gives the album its hypnotic core. The rare vocal of “Misericordia” arches into an anguished tone, but the words are stretched across the backing in exhaustion and listlessness. Vogel hangs the resonances of his guitar strings in the air, letting a note’s decay reveal textures not evident in the initial pluck. Lewis Patzner does something similar with his violin on “Morning Due,” drawing the bow slowly and shading each note with the friction of horsehair rubbing steel. The album finds a few moments of discordance in its second half, with wordless voices giving way to a shouted crescendo on “Your Confused Beauty Upon My Cheek,” distorted piano and electric guitar chords on “Heart: The Inevitable Music Box,” and a sense of agitation opening “Buildings of Heart” that evolves into a more optimistic theme. If you have a favorite place to sit quietly and think, even if it’s just between your headphones while reclining on the couch, this album will provide interesting accompaniment to your brain’s pondering. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

MP3 | Morning Due
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MP3 | Do You Wanna Love Me
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Singer-songwriter covers influential singer-songwriters’ songs

Contemporary singer-songwriter Marc Cohn offers up an interesting concept album constructed from a dozen covers. The theme is an exploration of a year in which singer-songwriters really took flight, and music first hooked Cohn’s soul. As he points out, it was also a year in which both singles and albums flourished commercially, with the latter creating space in which the former could play a bit longer and dig a bit deeper. His selections cover singer-songwriters Cat Stevens (“Wild World”) and Van Morrison (“Into the Mystic), singer-songwriters who used bands as their vehicle, including Pete Ham (“Baby Blue”), John Fogerty (“Long as I Can See the Light”),  and David Gates (“Make It With You”), and singer-songwriters who found solo voices after departing famous groups, including Paul McCartney (“Maybe I’m Amazed”), John Lennon (“Look at Me”) and Eric Clapton (“After Midnight”).

One of the joys of 1970 is how many different voices, sounds and styles were mixing it up on the charts, and how surprisingly well they meshed together; among the songs covered here are folk, rock, power-pop, soul and gospel. Routing them all through a single voice, in one set of contemporary sessions, has the advantage of pulling them more tightly together, but loses some of the colors that made the original tapestry so interesting. Cohn’s voice and the middle tempos create an album that’s more of an artist statement than a set of covers, but the continuity also rubs away some of the original differences that make this collection of songs interesting as a set. The sonic palette is similar from track to track, though there enough subtleties and surprises to keep things interesting.

The muffled percussion on “Maybe I’m Amazed,” the forceful tack on “Look at Me,” and the blue-jazz reworking of the Box Tops “The Letter,” each help draw the songs away from their iconic renditions. Similarly, the spare take on Badfinger’s “No Matter What” builds winningly into a moving country-soul duet with Aimee Mann, and the slow, Tom Waitsian reading of Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Only Living Boy in New York City” takes the song from Central Park to the Bowery. The closing guitar-and-voice take on Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Long as I Can See the Light” best highlights the soulfulness that pulls this album together. This is a subtle spin that may seem too mellow and samey on first pass, but Cohn’s vocal interpretations will draw you in and bind you to these interpretations. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Marc Cohen’s Home Page

Rock-solid southern rock

This Indiana-bred country-rock band is a real throwback to the southern rock of the 1970s. The quartet is looser, wilder, harder and seemingly less-calculated than redneck-rock acts like Big & Rich and Gretchen Wilson, but they play to the same blue collar crowd. Their songs will strike a deep chord in a nation where political and business institutions seem to be at odds with the populace. The lead single, “Preachin’ to the Choir,” effectively expresses Joe Sixpack’s pent-up frustration without resorting to the divisive tropes of talking-head politics. It doesn’t pose any big solutions, but the opportunity to vent one’s frustration in a like-minded crowd, and in this case, an anthem-singing country-rock crowd, is quite cathartic.

There’s a nostalgic streak in the band’s songs, including the comforts of their childhood “Home,” and a satisfied recounting of their career in the optimistic “On Our Way.” They take you inside the legendary Tootsie’s Orchid Lounge in “33 Steps” (the title cleverly measuring the walk from the Grand Ol’ Opry) and to the track for the NASCAR-themed “Turn Left.” There’s hard-charging electric guitar twang on the upbeat tracks, but even when the band slows down for banjo, steel and mandolin additions, the bass, guitar and drums remain solid. There are songs of rowdy Saturdays (“Alright” and “Tip a Can”) and guilt-wracked Sundays (“Friend of Sinners”), love and sex. The latter, “Scratch Me Where I’m Itchin’,” opens with a great Johnny Winter-styled riff.

In addition to the original material, the band covers the Kentucky Headhunters “The One You Love” and closes the album with a strong cover of America’s “Sandman.” The latter, originally released in 1971, is repurposed to address America’s current military crises and conflicts. The song is played more heavily than the original, including a period-invoking electric sitar solo and a stinging guitar duel. The harmonies are sung with the power and stridency of CSN&Y’s anti-war songs, putting a serious end to an album that’s often lighter in topic. It’s a great way to end the album, and really shows off the group’s heartland grit, heart and soul. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

Flynnville Train’s Home Page
Flynnville Train’s MySpace Page

Insightful look at what makes hit songs in the digital age

If you’re a musician wondering how to make your music more marketable, or you’re a listener wondering how the industry markets to you, industry executive Jay Frank has some interesting insights to share. His central thesis is that changes in technology lead to changes in consumption patterns which necessitate changes in the way music with commercial intentions is created. He covers changes in music delivery (jukeboxes, radio, soundtracks, commercials, iPods, video games), creation technologies (live, recorded, multi-tracked, DIY studios), and the industry’s business models. He provides specific suggestions for making your music saleable amid the changing landscapes.

Frank doesn’t purport to make your music more artistic; instead, he suggests how to make your output catch and retain someone’s attention – be they radio or digital stream listeners, the CD/MP3-buying public, a radio station’s music director, or a television show’s music coordinator. In that sense, he’s a hit-song mercenary, but after reading his book you’ll understand that getting heard amid the fire hose of music passing through the Internet isn’t always a simple task of just making great music. His analysis of industry changes suggests the impact they’ve had on song construction. He explains the results of transitioning from 78s to 45s to LPs, describes how listening habits and hit selection were altered by the 45 changer, and why song intros grew longer as automated programming systems favored records that left more room for ads to be read live by DJs.

The need to make your songs catchy and sticky is underlined by the ease with which modern listeners can change channel (due to digital radio tuners) and instantly skip a song (due to the capacities of MP3 players and streaming music services). Frank points out that we now live in a “zero play” environment in which listeners are more likely to hear a song from the beginning, rather than a radio environment where a channel change is likely to drop you into the middle. The result, according to Frank, is a heavier emphasis on the first seven seconds of a song (the time during which a listener is most likely to hit the skip button) and the first 60 seconds (the time at which a play is counted towards chart position). The sheer volume of music being created and marketed directly from artists to listeners begs artists to think about how to get and hold someone’s attention.

Frank points out that hitting skip in the radio world – changing to another station – is a negative vote on the station and an indication of reduced loyalty; in the Internet world, however, skipping a song gives the provider a chance to tee up a song you will like, and thus increase your loyalty. At the same time, Internet services have instant access to your skip pattern, and can fine-tune their presentation; radio must guess, do phone research, or employ portable people meters. Digital delivery is inherently a real-time ratings box. Internet services also have the advantage of stretching the repetition of their programming across individual’s listening sessions that span days, weeks or months, rather than driving a line down the middle of an hourly broadcast audience.

Frank is a sophisticated, deep-thinker about the inner workings of the industry and its interplay with consumer psychology. The recommendations he offers here for improving your music’s chance with modern listeners are about mechanics, rather than art: use more chord changes and dynamic range, create more releases more often, record covers songs, increase repetition of hooks, produce alternate versions, dip your toe across genres, and so on. Frank suggests that direct licensing of songs to listeners is shifting to a multiplicity of licensing models, including streams, on-demand, film, television, commercials, and video games, and that taking advantage of these new channels, if that’s one of your goals, will likely require changes to your music.

Given Frank’s background as a gatekeeper rather than a producer – he served as head of music programming for Yahoo! and is currently the SVP of music strategy at CMT – his advice might sounds like Monday morning quarterbacking. But his years as a programmer placed him on the front lines of what worked and what didn’t, and led to this compelling analysis of how production mechanics interact with delivery channels and listener habits and trends. Whether you’re a musician looking to increase your music’s commercial potential, or a music fan wondering just how such commercial potential is created, this is an insightful look inside the music industry. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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Domestic reissue of 1980 UK synthpop landmark

OMD is one of the transitional entities that bridged early electronic music pioneers like Kraftwerk, Brian Eno and Wendy Carlos, with the synthpop bands that populated the New Wave and dominated the early years of MTV. The band’s 1979 single, “Electricity,” pushed its synthetic instruments and machine rhythms up front, but warmed them with Andy McCluskey’s bass, a catchy electric pianotron riff and a duet vocal from McCluskey and Paul Humphries that celebrated the power source of their music. The flip, “Almost,” is an equal combination of synthetics and warmth, but the keyboards are less angular and more expansive, with a soaring lead line and steam-like backing for the lush, Bryan Ferry-esque vocal of longing and indecision.

For this first full-length album, issued in 1980, McCluskey and Humphries followed the same template, using their primitive electronic instruments to create pulsating and jabbing backings for vocals that borrow the strident tone of mod and punk. Their lyrics are often impressionistic sketches of emotions and concepts, including a soldier’s life (a theme they’d revisit to even greater effect on “Enola Gay”), the illusions of time, and fatalism. The new-wave “Red Frame/White Light” unspools a series of telephone box snapshots, and the album’s most conventional lyric in “Messages” finds the singer recoiling from the unwanted contact of a departed lover. The boozy near-instrumental “Dancing” sounds like a record caught off spindle, and the atmospheric “The Messerschmitt Twins” brings to mind the Human League’s first full-length, Reproduction.

Microwerks’ CD reissue is delivered in a tri-fold cardboard slipcase that reproduces the original LPs die-cut front cover and adds excellent liner notes by Jim Allen. The original ten tracks are augmented by four bonuses (though not the band-disliked Martin Hannett productions of “Electricity” and “Almost,” which were included on EMI’s 2003 import reissue). There is a longer single of “Messages” whose bassier, fuller mix greatly improves upon the album version, and three B-sides: the dark “I Betray My Friends,” an instrumental remix/dub of “Messages” titled “Taking Sides Again,” and a pop-staccato cover of Lou Reed’s “Waiting for the Man.” Though critics more highly laud the band’s follow-ups, Organisation and Architecture & Morality, this debut laid out the template and still sounds innovative today. [©2010 hyperbolium dot com]

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