Impeach Your Radio, Pt. 2
Changing the Tides
What would the inevitable result of an unbiased social exposure of music void of
genre-crutches be? You would have spike-haired teens, suit wearing dads, socialite
mavens, and hipsters of all ages, races, cultures, & yes, genre-crutches, all in the same
spot, enjoying the same music, exploring the same experience - simultaneously.
Woodstock had a go at it - violence free, I might add - but, for the most part, the audience
for the audio was made up of people dubbed "hippies". Now, imagine the concept
reaching beyond socio-political characterizations...
It would have to consist of 50% artists integrity, 50% media, in my humble, yet informed
opinion.
Deconstructing the Hierarchy
The radio bought into a formula that the industry created, based in part on the lack of
artistic talent &/or integrity of an individual or group of musical entities who sought to
reap benefits by capitalizing on the naive nature of the younger, more impressionable
music buying audience. These images & concepts make the individual or group a hefty
bank account, but nowhere near as rich as the label to which they are signed. Without
such knowledge, the so-called music industry pimps the unwary listeners into thinking
that the sampled music, regurgitated phrasing, booty shaking, foul lyrics, bling, trendy
clothing (or lack thereof) translates somehow into actually being art - though, ultimately,
art is in the eye of the artist. In the interim, the artist is getting robbed by both his label
& those who pirate music & think it's okay. Lacking knowledge of how the industry
works, they punish the artist for the overpricing of CD's - which is the label's deal, not the
artist's - not realizing that the artist gets paid on units moved only after the company has
recouped it's initial investment. Like true pirates, these so-called "music lovers"
unknowingly work hand in hand with the labels as they rob the artist of his/her rightful
earnings. However, the booty they are taking doesn't wear a thong - it wears greenbacks.
catch my drift?
The Result?
People are so used to having anti-art stuffed down their throats by the radio, recording
industry, video channels, and concert promoters that they develop a taste for artistic junk
food. Thus, when a artistically balanced meal, if you will, is served, they look upon it,
first with confusion or disbelief, then with disdain & ridicule. Consequently, we have
fostered generational gaps in society between those who dig the "old school", with it's
live instrumentation, purposeful lyrics, showmanship, and music for the sake of music
(another discussion all in itself) & those who champion the "new school" with its
beat-driven, computer-generated, sample-laden savvy, with lyrics and antics seemingly
done for shock value. It is no wonder why the private lives of most of today's celebrity
musical figures are much more interesting & entertaining than the music they are putting
out.
In the end, I really wish the radio would allow the artists who don't fit the
formats to be heard. Some of the BEST musicians I have ever heard or had
the pleasure of playing with will probably never make it to the mainstream
radio airwaves. So, here's to that garage punk band I heard in 2005 just
outside of Charlotte, NC; to that rock band playing in a storage facility behind
Church's Chicken West of the Ashley in Charleston, SC; to "Pap" down in his
basement in Sparkle City playing the realest music you ever wanna hear; to
Musze on blackplanet.com, whose prose & verse flow freely; to that kid from
NY & his guitar playing partner whose band makes Wine Up (in NoDa,
Charlotte, NC) seem like the Fillmore; to BL Davis at Onpointt Online
Magazine who gives artist a fair chance to shine, even when others won't; to
Fanesha Fabre who's blend of music & art both inspires & is inspired; to
"Stefanik-Riley" who works a 9 to 5 until her art work is appreciated
globally; to the crew from D&C Studios circa 1994; to those kids from
Spartanburg, SC who used to make up the ranks of tha Undaground Fam
mixing tracks in the Soul Cathedral; to Xumdude in SC who keeps
stretching the limits of soul, no matter what the commercially minded music
fakers say; and to that kid who plays what he calls "cosmic urban jazz"
because he longs for the day when the record stores will not have genre
labels; the store front would just say: "Music Sold Here."
Now, let that marinate...