Obscured by a hanging projector screen decorated with protean psychedelic shapes, a pair of disembodied royal purple slacks glided across the Slim’s stage. A wall of fog hung over the Golden Gate, as the jasmine bombarded the olfactory system and a nippy gust foreshadowed the crisp San Francisco summer’s eve.

Since forming Built to Spill almost two decades ago, the indie crusader Doug Martsh, an undisputed master of those magnificent floating trousers, has astonished guitar aficionados with intricate, meandering melodies and inconceivably precise riffs. Though he’s already treated us to seven LPs, a blues solo record, and three live albums, Martsch attests that he is still “amazed by the possibilities of making music.”

Before that high arching July sun retreated into the Pacific, the openers Fauxbois wet our whistles with shoegaze tunes and crafty Fender solos. The band tapped a refreshing female backup vocal to complement their finely tuned falsettos, as the packed crowd shuffled from side to side, absentmindedly scanning the venue’s exposed brick walls and buzzing neon PBR logo.

The Idaho stalwarts Built to Spill broke the linearity of time as they took the stage by storm, hurling their disciples into a nostalgic fit of euphoria with “Reasons,” from their classic 1994 album, There’s Nothing Wrong With Love. Martsh’s nimble digits blurred the frets with spectral virtuosity, as his right leg pulsed in spastic jolts.

Despite being in the midst of an arduous national tour consisting of 60+ shows, the band showed no signs of slowing. Pools of sweat sprung from Martsh’s grey sprinkled beard, as harsh stage lights reflected blindingly off his glistening dome. True to his introspective reputation, the frontman uttered few words. At his most loquacious: “it’s a little bit warm, but otherwise, really fun.” Right on both counts, Doug! Though you forgot to mention that even the usually overpowering aroma of concert pot failed to mask the acrid B.O. wafting from numerous arm(pit)s waving in the front row.

A whopping bass supplemented the cascading guitar on “Hindsight,” a gem off Built to Spill’s latest LP, There Is No Enemy. Martsh’s baldhead vibrated vigorously, in a concurrent showing of remorse and recognition: “hindsight’s given me / too much memory,” he queried, “is the grass just greener ‘cause its fake?”

The escalating guitar chord progression served as an accompanying middle finger to the ruthless taunts in their performance of the cathartic “Carry the Zero”: “you have become what you thought was dumb / a fraction of the sum.” The putdown would eventually be extended universally: “yeah you’ve all become a fraction of the sum,” shouted Martsch, amidst a melodic guitar and that distinctively serene, seductive whisper of a vocal.

After splashing some water on their sweat-drenched faces, Built To Spill reemerged for a twenty-minute jam rendition of “Conventional Wisdom.” Martsh howled over the blistering guitar in an enlightened wisdom, telling us that “some things you can’t explain, / like why we’re all embracing conventional wisdom in a world that is so un-con-ven-tion-al,” drawing out his final word before blasting into that unmistakably anthemic hook of the song. The wah-wah pedal dangled loosely, enveloping the crowd in his lofty solo, as the veteran mourned in an ineffable agony: “they don’t know they’re wrong / but you know that they never can see that / that’s what makes them strong.”

Martsh, one of the premier artists of our era, overflows the visible with that magical energy which we call the rock n’ roll spirit.

Gothic chandeliers dip and dangle overhead the Fillmore Auditorium, as flannel clad folksters scrupulously survey burgundy velvet curtains. A conduit for many cataclysmic, history-shifting performances from such immortals as Jefferson Airplane, The Grateful Dead, Miles Davis and The Who, to name drop a few, the SF Fillmore has since been purchased, branded, and franchised by Live Nation, creator of the 50% “convenience surcharge” and the sworn enemy of the church of rock n’ roll. Though Denver, Detroit, Philly, NYC, and Charlotte now also stake claims to the Fillmore name, music venue historians write off these abominations. But hey, the campaign against corporatism can wait; we’re here for a show.

As the front man and songwriter Eric Earley glided modestly onto the stage, an oscillating sea of iPhone cameras, contraband lighters and an easily identifiable sweet, pungent aroma greeted him. Earley kicked back his head, sending jet-black waves into a turbulent jiggle, strapping his signature mother-of-pearl tipped Gibson. From the harmonica-drenched “Silver Moon” to the animalistic “Fur,” the Portland folk group dug deep into its diverse catalog, delighting the hundreds in attendance. Fresh off an appearance on the Jimmy Fallon Show to promote their newest LP, Destroyer of the Void, Blitzen’s tight, infectious hooks and seamless vocal harmonies shook the Fillmore from its hallowed hardwood floorboards to its cathedral ceiling.

Dedicated fans, refusing to go home and to bed without a “Sleepytime in the Western World” sendoff, stomped and hollered until the sextet returned for a healthy encore. “Congratulations, San Francisco,” rhythm guitarist and melodica virtuoso Drew Laughery lauded and “laugh”-eried: “that was the most superior encore call of the entire tour!”

The audience erupted again, soaking up the well-earned praise. Midnight and the shut-down public transportation rapidly approaching, Earley capped off the evening, purring an A Capella:

“your eyelids are made of lead you can’t keep them up / ’cause it’s sleepytime / and that’s no crime in the western world.”

Steel Train front man Jack Antonoff, clad in shredded jeans and that denim jacket from Born in the USA, emphatically pumped his fists while storming the Great American Music Hall stage, no doubt paying homage to the Garden State’s larger than life son, Bruce.

Kicking off America’s birthday weekend with skittering, soaring piano and resilient, survivalist lyrics on “I Feel Weird,” Antonoff is drawn headlong into the self-destructive and oft pointless blame game, howling “if something is lost than there’s something to frame” — voice straining and cracking in passionate agony, “a fire burns and it’s for you!”

Following an ugly break with Drive-Thru Records earlier this year, NJ natives Steel Train self-released LP number three just last week on the band’s newly minted label, Terrible Thrills.

While Antonoff begged the crowd to buy Steel Train’s eponymous LP, curiously, I realized that despite healthy stockpiles of florescent American Appeal Tees and multicolor buttons scattered across the merchandise table, no vinyl was to be found. Apparently, a record label divorce takes its toll, as the band dourly admitted that they no longer smoke pot, but instead merely “worry about stuff and take antidepressants, but not the fun kind.”

Terrible Thrills Vol. 1, a companion album to the Steel Train LP, showcases female covers of all 12 tracks on the new album, including cameos by effeminate indie rockers Tegan and Sara, actress Scarlett Johannson, and the synthesizer fetishizer Deradoorian of Dirty Projectors.

Transitioning from anthemic, toy piano littered “Firecracker” to a power punk rendition of The Boss’s unabashedly poppy “Dancing in the Dark,” Steel Train whipped the Friday night crowd into a frenzy with an impromptu jam on an audience-hurled conch shell. The Jersey natives constantly flaunted the great exports that their homeland have to offer – from backwoods townies to Jewish basketball stars- before harnessing the controlled distortion of fragile, heart wrenching “Kill Monsters In The Rain.” Antonoff’s belching Gibson emerged as a second vocal throughout, complementing the track’s deconstructive rhythmic jilt with its expressive deep, scar-ridden sentiment.

Befitting its former role as a neighborhood brothel, SF’s Great American Music Hall is adorned with decadent, lavish moldings, with garish red paint and octagonal vanity mirrors lining the outer walls. Some key features of the venue include an extremely liberal “in and out” policy, perfect for an intermission smoke, toke, or a trip to the venue’s commission free box-office (shove it ticketmaster!).

Just make sure that you don’t stray too far away from the venue’s vaudevillian façade, those golden lights glowing in the hazy San Francisco night. Great American is located in the heat of the colorful “Tenderloin,” which hosted a disturbing street fight that would claim my buzz as a casualty. Not so good Samaritans hooted and yelped “whoop that ass” to the cacophony of knuckles against flesh, skins to concrete. No sign of the law as the only men in uniform were diligently guarding paid parking lots and garages.

Before returning to my sweet ride — a 1975 VW bus, equipped with wet bar, duel sleeping units, shower curtain blinds of psychedelic geckos and iguanas, and a weed whacker of an engine touting an impossibly efficient 28 mpg — Steel Train exploded in a crowd drenching perspiration on “Black Eye,” a charged power pop number: “I, I, I, I am your tram tram tram tram-poline!”

Throughout the evening, the NJ band’s tightness shone though in an endearing banter and an energetically delivered set. Though those philistines from MTV’s “The Jersey Shore” command a bigger audience than these rockers, you can’t help but root for Steel Train.

I found out about them by accident one day when I went to the Santa Monica Public Library. There, I decided to take home their newsletter to check the activities; so I found one very interesting: a free concert with the folk duo Fur Dixon and Steve Werner. They are locals from Van Nuys. The concert happened on a cold, grey Saturday afternoon in the patio at the Library. Still working on their 2009 album, “Travelers”, the duo made quite an impact on the audience.

Mostly composed by notoriously older people, the crowd was made of friends, neighbors and a few good fans that followed them down the road. Besides myself, only one couple as young as I am was in the audience. Despite that, their music had something like a secret ingredient that kept me enjoying and appreciating the moment. Their interaction with the small audience doesn’t compare at all with the one from Caetano Veloso’s concert. It was the best part. They commented on the songs, made jokes about each other, and told stories about how some of the songs were born. In a scale from A+ to F-, definitely they would score A+!

Fur’s voice is unique with a tone that can be compared to of a dear friend. Her influences are June, Mother Maybelle Carter, Hazel Dickens and Johny Cash. On the other hand, Steve’s influences are Doc Watson, Norman Blake and Merle Travis. Also, he is more of a songwriter, writing from truck stops to the wide open road. That combination is what makes them very appealing to people from different generations.

I went with no expectations whatsoever, but had a nice surprise as I watched their concert. It was something that just took over me. Their songs made me feel lighter and in a better mood. I got into the groove of a good old American folk music. Yes, I surrendered myself to the genre. I’ve never thought that could be fun and amusing! Hopefully, I’ll catch them soon for another round of delightful music. Stay tuned!

Caetano Veloso. When you hear his name, for those who know him, automatically you associate it with one of the best and most popular musicians from Brazil. That’s how I know him, considering that he started his career way before I was born, back in the 60’s. When I read that he was coming to LA for a concert, I thought, “Wow, this is the kind of concert I can’t miss”. I knew it would be memorable, quite an experience. It certainly was, but not exactly in the way I had expected.

For that occasion, I invited my great Brazilian friend, Karima, and her husband, who doesn’t know a word in Portuguese. I mean, I practically had to convince her because the location of the concert was at the Greek Theatre, a place I hadn’t been before and neither had she. It has an open sky dome and, she was afraid of getting really cold. Luckily, the weather collaborated that day. It was a beautiful spring day with a gorgeous sunny, blue sky, not too hot, not too cold, just perfect.

As we made our way to the theater, we were very excited and were also explaining to Karima’s husband, Soren, who Caetano Veloso is and what he represents in Brazil’s music. Getting there was easy and fast. We found our seats as we waited anxiously for his concert to begin. It got chiller at night but we had enough warm clothes.

Soon, came the first song… which none of us knew, but sounded interesting from the rhythm side. The second song came and again, another one we didn’t know. Then, the third, the forth, and the fift song were pretty much, all the same. This scene repeated during his entire concert. Karima and I kept saying, “Perhaps the next one will be “Você É Linda” (You Are Beautiful)”, which didn’t happen at all.

Well, what I considered to be his major moment in the concert was that he sang four songs only followed by his guitar. That’s when I thought he was going to sing “Sozinho” (Alone), one of my favorite songs of all time. Instead, he made a cover of “Billie Jean” from Michael Jackson!!! Unbelievable! In the true sense of the word! Unbelievable because he didn’t sing the one I wanted to hear. Unbelievable because MJ’s cover was too slow for me and a few other people that I overheard talking about it.

Another thing that I felt missing was his interaction with the audience. It was minimum. Just a few words here and there, but nothing really catching. He sang mainly the songs of his new album “Zii e Zie”, released in 2009, which explains why I didn’t know most of it. His voice is still amazing, and the tone is beautiful. However, besides the interaction, I felt something else was missing in the concert. To me, he lacked enthusiasm in his performance. I mean, he danced and everything, but still there was something not quite right. To be honest, unless you were there, it’s difficult to put to words. Perhaps one of the reasons was like I said before, his little interaction with the crowd.

With all that said, I will change to the good things. There were some songs that I found very interesting from the beat and arrangements to the lyrics. They talked straight to my heart, making me feel warm and cozy like when someone gives you a bear hug. Even though I didn’t know these songs, it didn’t mean I didn’t know how to appreciate them. That’s also what Karima told me. She felt the same way. Caetano sang in English as well, which shows he recognizes that not everybody in his concert speaks his native Portuguese. I am sure Soren felt very grateful for that. It gave him a better sense of who Caetano is as a musician.

As time went by, we realized he wasn’t singing any of the songs we came to hear. Just like that, it came to an end. That’s when the audience shouted “Bis, bis”, making him came back and sing the only song I knew from that evening, “Tieta”. I have to admit, it was a nice surprise. After that, we left with astonished faces processing what had just happened. It certainly was quite an experience, very much different from what I had envisioned in my mind. That’s why it probably didn’t meet Karima’s and my expectations, but it fulfilled our emotions in a distinctive way.

I get lost thinking about the number of amazing artists that are out there that I would love to see. I mean I could spend my entire lifetime (and that of a few of my close friends) and still not scratch the surface. Out of all of them though, there are a handful that make it to the top of my list and I would drop anything to go see (apologies in advance to any friends who have birthdays on their LA tour dates). At the top of this list are Brazilian singers and groups, Aerosmith, John Mayer and Pink, among others.

Since I’m not attached to only one style, the variety is interesting. They are singers from different generations. I already knew all these “international” artists by listening to the radio. I have never thought that I would be able to see them live until I moved to the USA. The fact is that when they actually come to my home country to perform, it’s usually in Rio de Janeiro or Sao Paulo, the two major cities in Brazil and I live down south, in a city called Joinville (google it!).

First and foremost, there will be always room for Brazilian music in my heart. The melodies and the rhythms are incredible. The sounds are smooth; they make I feel like I’m floating in the air. At the top of my agenda is the concert with Caetano Veloso, a famous “Brazilian Popular Music” singer. I wasn’t born listening to him, but throughout the years I have become captivated by his words and his rhythm. My favorite song is “Sozinho” (“Alone”), one of his mega hits, because it’s only his voice and his guitar. Check it out at YouTube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wb4RauhteFA.

Second, I’d say without a doubt is Aerosmith. They are one of the groups I grew up listening to. Last year when they almost broke up, I thought my hopes of seeing them were thrown in the trash. However, they’re back together according to what I read back in February. Yay! I think it’d be cool, no, more than cool, to have the chance to be a part of their concert and witness the moment with his craziest fans, in the middle of the field.

Third, John Mayer, who just had a concert about four weeks ago in LA, but I couldn’t make it. I didn’t feel well enough to go to. To me, he’s a dichotomy of my music passion. As a person, he’s always saying things that come to his mind, straight up, without giving any thought. I mean, he’s an asshole. As a musician, though, he’s just amazing. The lyrics, the melody, and everything else walk side-by-side. He’s definitely, one of my favorites of this new generation. His entire last album “Battle Studies” is over the top with compositions that speak from his heart, very personal. As so are a few songs such as “Gravity”, “Waiting on the World to Change”, and “Say What You Need to Say”. It’s songs like these that make a difference. The lyrics speak by itself.

Finally, Pink, not only because of her battle with pop music, but also because of the artist she has become throughout the years. A few years ago, I noticed her career moving towards the pop world like so many other singers. Take the song, “Get The Party Started”, from her second CD “Missundaztood”, it brought tears to my eyes. It was like watching a dear friend date an asshole, or John Mayer, I felt that girl I loved was lost. When she returned with her last two albums, Pink took back her career. She became the rock star she always was. Examples are the songs that she wrote like: “Who Knew”, and “Sober.” That made her more participative in the creation of her own music; from the lyrics to the post-production part. In my opinion, that’s a true musician.

All I can say is that I am happy to have already started accomplishing this mission. Yes, I call it a mission because it’s after I moved to the USA that these artists became a real possibility. The first one was Caetano Veloso, who will be featured in my next article. Right now, I’m looking forward to seeing them so that I keep checking their tour dates not to miss the opportunity again. As it starts to happen, you’ll be the first to know because I’ll be overjoyed to write about it and share the details of my experiences!

“Why’d you slang crack? Cuz I had to. A nigga gotta pay the fuckin’ rent.” — 2pac, “Po’ Nigga Blues”

“If you ain’t talkin’ ’bout money, you ain’t talkin’ ‘bout shit.” – Young Jeezy, “Umma’ Do Me”

“What is the secular basis of Judaism? Practical need, self-interest. What is the worldly religion of the Jew? Huckstering. What is his worldly God? Money.” – Karl Marx, “On The Jewish Question”

In 1988, the San Francisco-based brewer McKenzie River Corporation signed up DJ Pooh (Mark Jordan) to produce TV spots for St. Ides, the new brand of malt liquor they launched two years ago which was struggling to find its place in the market against then market leaders Colt 45 and Olde English 800. The first commercial that DJ Pooh produced for McKenzie River featured himself and King Tee performing an original DJ Pooh tune to a typical L.A. gagnsta-rap style video, depicting DJ Pooh and King Tee driving into a typical ghetto liquor stores (“King’s Liquor Store”) in their black low-rider and getting a case of St. Ides, the “premium malt liquor, smooth and slick,” as King Tee raps while he brings the case of liquor to the cashier. The spot was met with a generally positive reception, and soon McKenzie River and DJ Pooh produced the second installment of their new marketing campaign, this time featuring Ice Cube, another West Coast gangsta rapper and member of the rap supergroup N.W.A., who would soon become the de-facto¬ endorser and spokesperson for the St. Ides brand. The DJ Pooh led marketing campaign was a colossal hit, and St. Ides became the market leader by 1991. Other superstar cameos in the St. Ides marketing campaign during the late 80s and early 90s included big names such as Dr. Dre, Notorious B.I.G., Cypress Hill, 2pac, Wu-Tang Clan, Snoop Dogg, Eric B & Rakim, among many others.

Perhaps what could be seen as yet another instance of the crass commercialization of a music-oriented subculture or “blaxploitation” by popular American culture, the St. Ides marketing campaign crucially differs from others not in the magnitude of all-star ensemble that they have assembled for the campaign, but in the attitudes of artists toward the perceived blaxploitation and commercialization of music. Whereas artists of previous generations often deeply resented the commercialization of their music and deplored the ubiquity of blaxploitation –while adamantly denying their own participation in the phenomenon,– rap artists did not just not care about them, but often openly acknowledged their own participations in them, as it made them, in an ironic twist of postmodern ghetto logic, more “street” and authentic. Cornel West observes that:

unlike bebop and technofunk…[,] black rap music is primarily the musical expression of the paradoxical cry of desperation and celebration of the black underclass and poor working class, a cry which openly acknowledges and confronts the wave of personal cold-heartedness, criminal cruelty, and existential hopelessness in the black ghettos of Afro-America… Black rap music… often eliminates the utopian dimension of [the Afro-American spiritual-blues] impulse,… [It] is the last form of transcendence available to young black ghetto dwellers, yet it, tellingly, is often employed to subvert, undermine, and parody transcendence itself.

One of the ways in which black rap music eliminates the utopian dimension of the Afro-American spiritual-blues impulse is by wholly embracing the concepts of modern capitalist society, or by converting to Secular Judaism, as Marx would have put it.

In his interview with the Vibe Magazine, Ice Cube mentions that:

I thought about stopping doing the commercials, and I talked to Dr. Khalid Muhammad from the Nation [of Islam] about the commercials. We figured [they were] anti-everything that everybody stood for. But we gotta use them as a stepping stone, we gotta use them to build our nation. We can use St. Ides, cause I get them to donate at least $100,000 a year into all kinds of organizations… How else could the Black community come up with $100,000 to help an organization?

In Ice Cube and 2pac we can still observe the vestige of fading utopian hopes despite their mammonistic façade: 2pac had to pay his rent, and Ice Cube had to deliver $100,000 a year to all kinds of organizations. But by the time of Young Jeezy, we can see that some time during the last decade or so it has become just plain and simple mammonism. Some pundits may blame songs such as B.G.’s infamous “Bling Bling” (1999) for such a change in attitude, but perhaps in an ironic way, such seeming elimination of the utopian dimensions in rap music may really be only the reflection of the radical reinvention of the self and therefore, the radical reinvention of the utopian dimensions of the Afro-American spiritual-impulse, probably not totally unrelated to the end of Cold War and the warmongering hullaballoo of the Republican administration immediately following eight years of what was perhaps the Golden Age of American history, but yes, absolutely unrelated to whatever Francis Fukuyama says about the end of history.

Bibliography
Quinn, Eithne. Nuthin’ but a “g” thang: the Culture and Commerce of Gangsta Rap. New York: Columbia U. Press: 2005, pp. 1~3.

“NY Officials Score St. Ides Ads,” Alcohol and Drug Abuse. November 13 1991. Pp. 43

West, Cornel. Prophetic Fragments. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans, 1988. Pp. 186 ~ 187

Bernard, James. “Ice Cube: Building a Nation,” The Source, December 1991, pp. 33

Being poor in LA on a Friday night is a scary notion. The very thought of leaving your apartment invokes nightmarish premonitions of $10 draft beers as well as the $29.95 you’ll be spending at Wendy’s when you opt to buy for all your friends after 6 of said draft beers. Yes, the City of Angels has a cruel habit of mocking the underpaid, the least of which is making you think you’re a total “baller” in the Wendy’s drive-through.

Luckily though, a combination of LAfreebee.com, apathy toward sharing my email address for a free well drink, and, of course, knowing all the right people was just the right antidote for a successful night of revelry in the 213…er, 323. Hmm.

Every 2nd Friday of the month a free concert, aptly named “Friday Night Sessions” takes place at California Plaza in Downtown LA. The idea is that a handful of local, emerging indie bands play right outside of Casa Cocina & Cantina, which is more than happy to provide a complimentary (well) drink to those who RSVP’d online (or provide their email to the hostess). Casa is also more than happy to provide overpriced 2nd and 3rd cocktails to everyone reveling in the fact that they just got a free drink with free entertainment in the same night.

“Free” is such a thrilling word. The category of free things, however, encompasses so much unappealing crap that the word is often tainted with doubt. For example: airplane headphones, a stress test from the Church of Scientology, court-side Clippers tickets.

Friday Night Sessions, though, heroically restores good faith in freebees! I was truly impressed with each band almost to the point where I felt guilty for not paying for the pleasure of enjoying their music. Almost. And how the hell are local bands playing outside in an office plaza for free able to break down and set up their equipment between sets faster than any paid show I’ve ever seen in an actual venue where I’ve purchased a ticket that helps pay the salary of multiple sound technicians???

Local indie bands play free Friday Night Sessions at California Plaza surrounded by an inspiring LA skyline.

Please check out the bands that played that night and pay to go listen to them. I’ll feel better that way.

Franklin Music School (www.myspace.com/franklinmusicschool)
The Ross Sea Party (www.myspace.com/therossseaparty)
Facts on File (www.myspace.com/factsonfile)
The French Semester (www.myspace.com/thefrenchsemester)

Thankfully my complimentary drink from Casa was the strongest margarita I’ve ever had and quite literally took an hour to finish mine plus my friend’s drink, which was abandoned a few bitter sips into it, and thus spared the expense of drink #2.

The triumph of this fateful free Friday did not end at the California Plaza though. No, the vibrations from my feature-less Samsung cellular telephone would only invite a fresh stream of free frivolity!

The call: My next-door neighbor was off to a show at The Mint.
The dilemma: a $15 cover. Hells No!, I thought, I own this town. I don’t pay for shit! (it’s an amazing sense of entitlement that comes from 2 free cocktails and a free concert)
The solution: one of the security guys working Sunset Junction last August who got me on stage with Built to Spill without a photo pass happened to mention that he ran security at The Mint…and I happened to remember this after two margaritas.

At the Mint. Out of appreciation for my mad hook-ups, my neighbor buys me a drink. Free x3! We wrestle our way through the crowded venue toward the stage. The Mint is so packed that squeezing past each person is like being birthed out of a collective sweaty, half-drunk mass about 9 times over.

Chris Pierce, the man who my neighbor informs me is the musician we’re there to see, takes the stage.

A soul singer. A sweet crooner. I bad ass guitarist. Chris Pierce’ s music elevates the high of my “free” streak to unfathomable levels. The dimly lit Mint now basks in the glow of Pierce’s amazing talent and the unique excitement of an “oh shit, soul is awesome” revelation from what seems like quite a few people in the crowd.

“Take the business out of the music business and this is what you get,” says Chris. I suppose that would leave the music, which is conveniently located here:
http://www.chrispierce.com/ and here: http://www.myspace.com/chrispierce. Get a taste online, but the true Chris Pierce experience happens somewhere sandwiched between a bunch of white people getting down to soul music for the first time.

So there you have it. I had successfully spent less money on an amazing Friday night in Los Angeles than a mediocre Friday night I had once spent in Billings, Montana. Maybe it’s true that the best things in life are free,…but then again they’re always giving away free Clippers tickets.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________

*** How many people, nay, groups of people, does it take to put on these relatively low-key free concerts in California Plaza once a month?
Well, Friday Night Sessions in all their glory are made possible by lafreebee, Isgoodmusic, SideCho Records, Dramaturgy Promotions, Casa Downtown, Grand Performances and the artists themselves.

What Does This Have to Do with Music?

Perhaps nothing. Perhaps everything. More likely nothing. In fact, yes, definitely nothing.

They sent an email out letting us know that they had interviewed over 700 people to at last hire an elite crew of servers, cooks and greeters for the hot new restaurant in the 90210. I was one amongst the lucky 28 bastards they’d hired, except I’m sure that none of the others had quit within the first four days of employment, which was technically still training.

At least it meant that Thursday evening was free and I had found a red carpet event in Hollywood to photograph: the World Music & Dance Awards. Every now and then a good few hours of shouting “over here” and “beautiful” at over-dressed, Tinseltown wannabees is exactly what a gal needs to clear her mind.

Checking my email for the event address I had also received word that a previous Music Union article of mine commenting on the awkwardness of opera performed in the English language had disturbed the very opera’s maestro so much that after three years of steady production photography employment with the opera program, my services were no longer appreciated. Well it’s a good thing I just quit the highest paying hostess gig in Los Angeles.

Speaking of which, is anyone looking to buy a Cuisinart CMW-100 Stainless Steel microwave?

5930 Franklin Ave. in Hollywood. Sure it was a little strange that they had only sent an address without a venue name, but maybe it’s just one of those posh Hollywood digs that’s so popular that you should just know what it is by the street address. But alas,…

“You have got to be shitting me.” Yes, 5930 Franklin Avenue is home of the Church of Scientology’s Celebrity Centre and Mansion.

I might also mention that at this time I am also willing to part with a two-shelf wall bookcase that is missing the wall fasteners for $10…or best offer.

I struggled for a good 10 minutes as to whether or not I should enter the beast’s lair, go beyond the rod-iron gates, and unlock the mystery of Zoltan or whoever it is that reins high supreme in Scientology.

So many questions unanswered, I thought: Is Tom Cruise really that short? What’s the deal with the volcano on the cover of Dianetics? And what the hell happens after the free stress test???

Eventually I reasoned that I could only be detained on the church grounds long enough for them to realize how poor I am and thus unfit to realize the secrets of the universe, and perhaps someone there was in the market for a TheraPure 3-Speed Ionic Air Purifier, just one year old and at half the price!?!?!

So armed with this rationalization I entered the grounds only to behold the unthinkable. So here it is, a glimpse from beyond the gates. Prepare yourselves for what truly lies beyond:

Yes, the who’s who of ‘Fake It ‘Til You Make It’ is what they’ve been hiding back there, or at least on that fateful night. Video coverage of the World Music and Dance Awards’ red carpet was provided by the Kotton Kandy Girls featured in this photo. KKG TV trains models to speak into a microphone and conduct interviews in gangster accents.

From these wannabees I must exclude Bonnie Pointer of Pointer Sisters fame, who looked better at 60-years old than say, any other person at this award show.

It was not until I had ditched the red carpet though that I got some perspective on significance of this event.

What was it about these young entertainers on the red carpet that left such a disgusting taste in my mouth? Was it them begging for an interview from the Kotton Kandy Girls? Was it their managers hovering just beyond the camera frame making sure that their investments were acting badass enough on camera?

Or maybe it was being exposed to the business side of music and art, a side that is necessary for all artists to succeed, but, as a music fan, made me uncomfortable. The idea of shameless promotion and marketing yourself as the best of the best with only half an album under your belt in order to get funding and support for the other half, was depressing to me, especially as a photographer with zero talent for self-promotion.

I actually enjoyed the performances of most of the unsigned talent who were allotted some stage time before the main event of IYAZ and some mother-daughter tribute to Bonnie Pointer covering “I’m So Excited.”

Maybe it’s the fact that record labels don’t invest in artists and their growth anymore that produces such events like this where musicians dressed in outfits that cost 2-months of rent need to be asked by the Kotton Kandy Girls who the hell they are and what they’re doing there.

I hold dear the three hours spent that night at the Scientology Celebrity Centre and Mansion. I learned nothing of Scientology except that their taste in outdoor landscaping is exquisite, but perhaps I did coincidentally learn more about myself and the unforgivable ways of the world and the art and music industry. Oh, and when I’m dead I’d like my image to be immortalized in a Coke can collage (see below).

Artist Audience & Monetization

Wanted to share a bit of graphic thought on modern artist monetization.  In today’s music economy musicians have the opportunity to operate successful, self inspired business based solely on their ability to create an engaged audience and actionable products.  Like any business, artists should be looking at monthly revenues as a factor of their combined fan and product bases.

What I find most inspiring in this regard is the attainability of both of these components in today’s open market.

With the use of social web and mobile networks, advertising, nedia outreach / public relations and strategic alliances / partnerships it is now attainable for artists to go from hundreds of personal contacts to thousands of close fan-friends to 10s and 100s of thousands of audience members.  The key to this is consistent, inspiring and engaging contact from an artist to create a lifestyle brand around themselves and their creativity.

As that fan base grows, so does the opportunity for earning a viable income from their endeavors by introducing products to their audience.  The challenge for artists here is rethinking the product of music that we have become accustomed to.  The idea of a round plastic cookie with 13 tracks or a virtual 5 megs of data stream is a pretty confining medium for a musician.

What would your music look / feel / smell like if you had total control to create it?  Although primarily an auditory experience, music touches all of our senses and emotional ranges.  What products can you as a musician create that your audience can engage with?

A good blog with fans reading it several times a week is worth about $0.10 per user per month – not a massive amount on a stand alone basis, but when applied to an audience of 100k or more it is a pretty tidy sum.  From there is goes up in accordance with the product portfolio you can offer.  Merchandise from T-shirts to self branded disposable chopsticks (these do exist) sell for much higher rates, but may reach less people.  At the end of the day your music is still your central product and must continue to be great and inspiring to your audience, but even that can (and needs to) be rethought (a topic for a later blog).

For now, print out the picture at the top of the blog, hang it in your studio and use it as a map for your progress.  Best of luck and stay tuned for a coming post on thoughts of how to restructure your music, process and approach.

Till then – LIVE YOUR MUSIC!

Barrett