To kick off the feature, I gave my two cents on Interpol’s 2002 debut, Turn On the Bright Lights. I am very proud to be a part of this new semi-regular feature, written in partnership with TheMusic.fm, and I hope you will enjoy this excursion beyond the Electric Comic Book.

Any suggestions on a ‘new classic’ album we should check out in the future? Tell us what you think in our respective comments sections!

If I may have a moment to talk about this SOPA/PIPA Buisness:

Censorship, being a topic I am passionate about discussing and protesting, always amazes me in terms of its causes. The question of why governments, organizations, etc. etc. choose to censor is a fascinating conversation if only for the brief chance to understand the way other people think and their visions of a world similar to our own, yet clearly painted in different shades of gray.

My appreciation and similar fascination with piracy is quite well known to those who read this blog often, but there is a need to reform how we support our artists. But this is something that has to change within the industry, and not mandated by the government. When you put the regulation of art and the commerce of art in the hands of the government, you risk the regulation of content as well, and that is far more dangerous to our society than a few unbalanced corporate checkbooks. Piracy is only a threat to businesses whose priorities and structures are so fucked up, the industry can rake in billions in profits year after year, yet still cry poverty because they believe that some server in an off-shore shack somewhere has a shit ton of Katy Perry albums and videos just waiting around to be taken by anyone greedy enough to download them.

I’ll get off my soap box here, because I never wanted the Electric Comic Book to approach anything of a political statement. But I will say this: in addition to doing what you can to fight SOPA and PIPA bills, and spreading the word through Twitter, Facebook, pamphlets, etc. etc. etc., you should also consider for a moment what you can do to better support the arts. And if you’re like me, and you think you give enough money to the arts, consider what you can do to convince your friends to commit to that same level of artistic expression. Fortunately, we do have a lot of content available to us for free, and I’m not asking anyone to break the bank for bands offering crap albums for $20 a pop, but I am asking you to consider your choices in art with a sense of what is really worth keeping in the world. And if that’s none of it, then I’d like to see YOU create something worth keeping around. Seriously, I would.

Art, in all its forms, are one of the very few things worth living for in the modern world. It not only gives us great beauty to distract ourselves with, but it also gives us a context and sense of place and time in history, and gives us a better understanding with ourselves and our world. And the Internet, for all its foibles and dark spots, is still an impressive exchange of human information. Never take either for granted.

Spotify became available in the states not too long ago, and apparently, they’re shutting the doors on the free ride some time soon. Either way, if you have the program, there are two playlists I HIGHLY recommend if you want to get a good dance party going — I have not listening to much else in the past few days. Both come courtesy of the folks from the Mod Culture site — a great source for all your Mod needs.

The first is called “Uptight!” from a DJ named Marc McNulty — it’s not too deep, but most of the stuff on here is chock full of Northern Soul classics, a good sampling of legit Mod bands of the day (plus the Jam), and great pop-jazz to get you a-steppin’ in your living room. Check it out here.

The other list comes courtesy of a DJ named David Jackson called “Blowin’ Up My Mind” — it’s much shorter, but it has some nice choice cuts of some lesser known Motown-style girl groups. Definitely worth a listen if you’re looking to expand your girl group horizons. Blow Up your Mind over here.

If you got any playlists you think are worth sharing, let us know! Post in the comments!

A bunch of British guys playing American folk was the most exciting thing happening in music this year.

It doesn’t feel like 2011 was worth reviewing as a whole. Coming out and saying that immediately, without any kind of pretense or introduction, feels quite good. 2011 was a boring year for music, even the stuff I usually like. I’m not alone in this, and, on one hand, it feels good to be vindicated by other critics out there; on the other, it lends itself to a notion of desperation that something spectacular will happen in the coming year. It’s an easy criticism (any year, but this year especially) when criticizing mainstream rock and roll, which still attempts to replicate either the bigness of 80′s rock, or the intimate rebellion of 90′s alternative. But it’s another when it is prevalent among independent artists as well. For example, in today’s New York Times, music critic Jon Caramanica laments that it’s not relevant to declare rock as a genre dead, but to realize that both labels are wholly uninterested in investing in something revelatory, and that the genre is merely ‘spinning its wheels.’

But what I wonder is that while the preferred safety for labels to invest in bands that have marketable sounds and songs is obvious, what of the bands out there who intend on making such noise?

An even more boring year to come? More after the jump.

In his essay, Caramanica says that rock and roll still has interesting bands who have yet to see massive success, but the mainstream acts (beyond those who are still active and have achieved legendary status — your Springsteens, your U2s, and REMs (well, not so much them, but bands of their ilk, to be sure)) have become stagnant and repetitive. Rather than creating anything exciting in terms of sound or emotions, bands like Nickleback, Blink-182, and Coldplay, all choose for the attractive balladry, big emotive songs that play as great soundtrack fillers for a cheap movie trailer, much like how more product ads mine indie albums for the mood of their cars or vodka.  While that’s a matter for the old sell-out argument that has been done to death again and again, it’s about time someone discusses it as a motivation for bands to create the music that they do. But that’s a digression into this point: what does it say that some of the most exciting things to happen to music in 2011, on both sides of the label divide, include a band who’s big claim to fame is that they sound like Dinosaur Jr.? that the band with one of last year’s big breakthrough albums released a shorter version of the same album? or that, an album that was supposed to be released in 1967 was finally released, despite a great majority of the music on the album has been released elsewhere, and according to its own creator, its not even the finished product that it’s supposed to be?

It’s been a dull year to be sure. But what are we going to expect in the year to come, with so much promise yet so little to build from? Chances are, it will only get better, that hopefully, yes, even mainstream rock will snap it’s own spell and become something more vital and exciting, and discover a new sound or a new slew of groups that led to the garage revival of 2000/2001 (not that it was the absolute best of the last great trends, but I am hardpressed to ask when was the last time you heard a riff you remember in a classic way, a la “Satisfaction?” If you’re like me, the last great riff was written in 2003.).

Let’s just call 2011: “The Year Punk took a Break.” Some of the best albums in the past year flew relatively under the radar, appreciated by the critics, but out of favor with even their small but dedicated audience. Then again, even some punk-leaning bands, who were once considered to be hot shot ‘next great hope’ bands released some pretty damn dull music that made me regret plunking down the dough at their own amazing live show. Perhaps it’s an indication that trends are not meant to be tracked and followed immediately in hopes of controlling our sense of time — how else to characterize an entire year’s worth of music, when all music in the postmodern era refuses to align to single ideas and genres? Or maybe, fans and artists alike are so overwhelmed with trying something new, that the demands of creating at the speed of relevance just results in shit-quality work? As a critic, I’d say both, but as a fan, I’m going to put money on the latter.

There is potentially only one trend I am willing to put money on for the year to come. And I will not make it with any particular certainly, but I have a strong feeling that one band to come to prominence in the year to come will be one that is heavily Christian based — a new Creed or Evanesance, or Switchfoot. I say it as a matter of time, but also of the national zeitgeist, that something with a little more hope and less angst, is waiting in the wings to become something big in the next year.

And I just call it a gut feeling. It’s certainly not an anecdote to all the boring music that came out in 2011, but it seems like an obvious product. It’s a wonder that music in 2011 was so beige, when the beginning of the year was heralded as the ‘return of the 90′s,’ a decade marked by bands who made exciting music about being bored in the suburbs, a similar theme throughout 2008-2010, or so.

My only hope (a resolution for bands preparing new albums, if you will) in terms of what will change is that bands that overutilize their reverb and echo pedals will stop being seen as ‘neo-psychedelic.’ Music that is trippy, druggy, ethereal, etc., should be more than incorporating loops and sounds to make them indistinguishable to rave music. It might be exciting for more bands to begin incorporating jazz compositional ideas into their music, maybe spurring a return to traditional prog rock, and stepping away from the metal-infused monster it is today.

The other is that Cults should break up, and go away, and never come back.

What makes a band like the Ettes so fascinating is that while they’re lumped in with the regular garage rock/punk that decide to stick to basics and pay homage to the sound (rather than the artists) who came before them, they still manage to have a subtle touch that makes them so unique — in this case, their Patsy Cline-style country leanings mixed with the power and fury of the Stooges. Being fronted (and numbered) predominantly by women, it would be easy to compare them to any number of garage-leaning girl groups of the day, from the Vivian Girls to Wild Flag, or to any of the retro-indie groups like Cults (they’re not, and I get the feeling that Cults will disappear from the public consciousness within months, the good lord willing). But the Ettes deserve so much more than ranking among their peers of girl-fronted groups, let alone other garage-minded indie bands: they do it right! They get it! And it’s all because the Ettes have plenty of pop smarts, but they sound like a class bully, waiting to throw a punch at any time they get the chance.

The Ettes’ latest, Wicked Will, is a bit of a retreat from their previous album, Do You Want Power, which was produced by the Reigning Sound’s Greg Cartwright and featured a bit more diversity in terms of style. Wicked Will, produced with Liam Watson (who did their first two albums), returns to the raw and raucous power combined with their pop smarts that made those first two albums such engaging listens. But fret not: just because they dropped the stylistic challenges of Power doesn’t mean that they didn’t take a little bit of that record with them to make Wicked Will all the better.

Why the Ettes are better at self-reflection than anyone else, after the jump.

Jem, Poni, and Coco.

I will say this from experience from seeing them live: The Ettes are precisely the kind of band you cannot mess with. Even when their stage performances look like a neatly contained hurricane, between Maria “Poni” Silver’s furious whiplash attack on the drums and the blown-out fuzzy-and-melodic basswork of Jeremy “Jem” Cohen, the sound of the songs are just as wild and primitive. While the slightly more complex arrangements in Do You Want Power let each player shine simultaneously, Wicked Will sounds like a full band playing together, firing on all cylinders. The elements that have carried over between Power and Wicked Will make me believe that educating a child raised by feral wolves  will only make him more of a danger.

The album opens with an folk-country slowburner, “Teeth,” which has earned a regular spot in my daily playlists all due to the too-good-not-to-be-classic line, “‘Cause everytime you smile / I can tell you’re just showin’ your teeth.” It’s the only the track to move at a slowed down, mournful pace and feature Lindsay “Coco” Hames’ thick, twanging acoustic guitar playing alongside her pitch-perfect blues-inflected voice. Once that’s done and over with, the Ettes turn on the power for a fierce stomp with some psych-punk touches in “Excuse.” And from there, there’s no turning back.

They’re not all fast and furious — “The Pendulum” is the most obvious connection to the Ettes’ previous record, as it slinks and moves to a rhythm almost sexy, and clearly meant to reflect the song’s namesake. “You Were There” has some of the slight psych touches, mostly in regard to the heavy reverb and echo tones that make Hames such an interesting guitarist given her peers in competition.

Actually, on that note, I’d like to take a moment to commend Lindsay Hames on having such a unique voice, and not being afraid to sing the sort of material that she does. When I bring up the Ettes in a conversation, most like to draw comparisons, most immediately, to the Vivian Girls. To make this long, drawn-out conversation short, they’re both terrific live acts, but when it comes to the matter of committing song to tape, the Ettes are lean, mean, and do not lend any of it to posturing — they are not a band to be messed with. Vivian Girls, meanwhile, are perfectly content with sounding like the quiet, shrinking violets that their songs sort of satirize. Are the Vivians too smart for their own good, or are they just so bored that they can’t find the urge to make their own work interesting? I digress, but it’s worth thinking about when considering how exciting, urgent, and insistingly classic the Ettes present their songs, and specifically, Coco retaining the country twang in her voice while she raves on.

The middle of the album is no filler graveyard either — as if they saved the best for the middle to make sure they keep your attention. From “You Never Say” to “I Stayed Too Late,” this stretch of songs is loaded with classic garage punk moments, full of stomping rhythms, soaring, fuzzy guitar shrieks, and wild guitar work (including some great slide fills in “Trouble With You”). Even “Don’t Bring Me Down” introduces some surf rock into the Ettes’ bag of tricks, and it’s makes them all the sexier.

The album is bookended with another country-based acoustic ballad that sounds straight out of the Raconteurs’ playbook. “The Worst There Is” is a dark, mournful tune, full of upright piano dirge and twinkling guitar twangs to back resigned lyrics of lost potential. It’s a strange way to end a record chock full of furious punk and gleeful stomp, but then again, it’s the Ettes’ world, and we’re just listening.

Grade: A-/B+. Wicked Will will probably go by an unnoticed gem for a lot of people, but it’s a record for people looking for some dangerous fun, and still, aren’t afraid of letting a little bit of sensitivity out. Everybody hurts after all. This is a fun, raucous record, and it shows a great deal of promise for the Ettes’ future, even while Wicked Will may not be as technically dazzling or complex as Do You Want Power was. Even then, it’s hard to ignore this as a collection of fantastic stompers, clappers, and slappers that will get you moving at all the right moments.

via Buzzfeed.

On another, unrelated note: I must thank everyone who liked and discussed the El Camino review, after Electric Comic Book became a fresh pressed item. I’m working my way through everything, and I will respond to you all. Thanks guys, and expect more reviews and views as the year ends.

What we have here is the original version of “Wild Thing” — the song made famous by the Troggs in 1966 — by a band called Jordan Christopher and the Wild Ones. It predates the famous (and after listening, much cooler) Troggs record by about six months, being released in November of 1965.

Enjoy the video above, but be sure to actually go to the YouTube page to check out a really cool comment left by a gent claiming to be the keyboard player for the Wild Ones!

For your dining and listening pleasure, the Black Keys performing Captain Beefheart’s “Her Eyes Are a Blue Million Miles.”

Jesus, it's like it's like they had a 'Complete Idiot's Guide to Hipster Appeal' on their night stand.

The Black Keys’ seventh album warrants quite a bit of reflection on their career, and not just in the fact that this band has existed for all of ten years now and have released as many albums as they have, but how they’ve grown in this environment. Most notably, the Black Keys now have one more album on their oft-compared blues-punk, garage rock contemporaries, the White Stripes, who have broken up and left on a note of high concept art. The Black Keys, meanwhile, have stayed steadfast in their ways of producing records chock full of rough-edged juke and blues that is so traditionalist (even among the distortion and feedback), that even the keep-it-simple style the Stripes have become synonymous with looks complicated. But, much like the Stripes, they couldn’t go on making the same records forever, and upon achieving major label status (and releasing the terrific and ambitious, but still traditional, Magic Potion), they decided to make a giant leap forward and drop the true blues style for a poppier, yet somehow hazier sound, and pick up Danger Mouse as producer for Potion‘s follow up, Attack and Release. And with a bigger sound and a few trophies under their belt (and, yes, like Jack White, a move to Tennessee), the Black Keys embark on the follow up to their wildly successful album, Brothers.

And it’s from there that we tell the rest of our story (after the jump).

I have made my distaste, or general wariness, for Danger Mouse known before, and I will admit that I do not think he is as much an addition to a band or artist with an established sound. It may not seem like it, but he has a distinct style that affects the songwriting of the artists he works with that lends to a criticism lobby against the Black Keys themselves, that their songs all sound alike. Yet, they are still capable of creating albums that are greater than the sum of it’s parts. It’s a credit that has followed them from day one, since The Big Come Up, that you may not be able to pick out more than three or four songs from any particular Black Keys album, but man, is the album itself something!

El Camino is the first album to start right out the gate since Rubber Factory to have a specific feel in mind, and unlike the rest of the Black Keys work, this is strictly a party album. Sure, moments of artistic brilliance shine here and there, but the hip-shaking swagger of the track opener, “Lonely Boy,” puts it all on the line. But while the track explodes like their earlier tunes, it still shows that it is a kindred spirit with their last album, Brothers, by including a chorus of high-voiced women, and an electric organ that supports the guitar with a greasy wheeze beneath Dan’s sharp attack.

The very same can be said of much of El Camino being similar to Brothers in terms of orchestration, and this is to a fault. “Dead and Gone” is one of several tracks to carry the same soul vibe that carried much of Brothers, with the light and airy chorus, twinkling bells, and soft organ touches, but is less of a memorable tune. There are a few moments like this, that make me pause and think that it could be that El Camino is simply a depository of stuff left on the cutting room floor that didn’t make it to the final press for Brothers. While there’s nothing wrong with being in a similar state of mind when writing a shit ton of music, there’s something to be said for a quick follow up that may not be as fully as realized as its own entity.

Speaking of tracks being their own entity, “Little Black Submarines” is a true curiosity in the Black Keys’ list. It is rare that they ever employ an acoustic guitar for long, but here, it is center stage for an intro that gives way for a merciless and heavy blast of Patrick Carney’s big beats and fills, and a double downstroke guitar attack that (and I hate to say it, but it was my first thought), Jack White’s own bag of tricks relies on so often. All in all, it’s a song that, in parts, has the DNA of Led Zeppelin, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, and the White Stripes in it’s blood. It’s a strong tune that is stark and original, yet unafraid to wear some influence on its sleeve. Then, in contrast, the follow up, “Money Maker,” is pure vintage Black Keys, a gritty stomper that, I hope live, can break through the reverb of Danger Mouse’s production.

“Money Maker” is exactly the sort of track that makes me pause and think how much I hate Danger Mouse as a producer. Even while not being overbearing, his touches make such a difference that ruin a perfectly good song that could be simple, full of fucking machismo swagger like this one. And while the talkbox is an awesome tool for someone like Dan Auerbach, it doesn’t help that it’s against a whirling wall of sound in the background that distracts rather than enhance. Though, I will admit (begrudgingly) that whatever he does on “Stop Stop,” it is an annoyingly catchy song — an absolute head-nodder that may not be a great song to dance to, but it’s so full of good natured brightness, I could overlook those damn bells behind the melody.

While not a remarkable song on the album in and of itself, it’s worth also giving a little spotlight to “Nova Baby,” the penultimate track that, admittedly, is the Black Keys’ most danceable track. It’s another that connects to the soul and R&B qualities of Brothers, but beats along and follows the head-nodding qualities “Stop Stop,” so perfectly that it forces you to move, at the very least, your upper body. Yet, like most of the best tracks on here, it stops so abruptly, as if the Keys are afraid to lead a song up to a climax.

Grade: C+. By the time the album ends, the only real songs I can remember are “Lonely Boy” and “Little Black Submarines” — and that’s for better or worse, really, but certainly gives credence to the final track, “Mind Eraser,” which, again, would feel right at home with the tough soul of Brothers. Yes, I generally feel good having listened to El Camino, and I would have no problem breaking it out at parties, but unlike other Black Keys discs, there is something missing from this album that makes me warm up to it completely and want to call it an absolute success. That’s not to say I’m completely down on it; if Brothers were the debut album of the Black Keys, I wouldn’t call this a sophomore slump album — it is a fun, breezy album that brings the party.

But it may be that’s part of the problem with me, and me alone. Hell, any other critic willing to be more objective (and I’m not, clearly) might call this a ‘B’ or an ‘A-’ at best effort. But there is something to be said about the Black Keys and the reputation they staked out early in their career: while the White Stripes (among others) was the preeminent blues-punk band of the early aughts, the Black Keys were the ones the master the sense of dark mystery, danger, and intimacy of legit bluesmen. I have no problem with a move toward becoming a pop-oriented band with a more popular sound, but I wish it weren’t weighed down in Danger Mouse’s sensibility to be so accessible as to strip the band of the grit so clearly at the heart of all of their best songs. It’s not the major label treatment, just simply the company that they keep.

Still, this is not an album that could, or should, spur debate among true fans. It is simply what it is, and that being a Black Keys album that, while it may not make you feel greatly one way or another, it is generally a solid piece of classicist rock — so get moving, and don’t be afraid to! This ain’t a major artistic statement, it’s the kind of rock you grab a brew to, and maybe dance to. The album may be titled “El Camino,” and the album cover may be of an old Dodge Caravan, but the parts combine into the kind of simple rough-and-tumble quality the actual Chevy El Camino represents, but the Keys want you to bring your friends along, too.

Pictured: The Past, Present, and Future

Reading back on that sentence, it seems that rock and roll, finally, is part of the pantheon of modern art. It is something that is crafted, honed in on, and appreciated by the educated and creative few who would appreciate the sort of albums generally judged best nowadays, in that they provoke thought. Still, the spirit of rebellion bursts through, and as rock artists continue to take on and speak out on the major issues of our day, just as they do since the 1960′s, it seems that the labels that represent them have no interest in helping them express themselves, especially as the criticism comes back to those very labels.

There were two very interesting stories recently, charting current trends in how we consume music. One story regarded the slow painful death of rock radio — particularly, the absolute lack of modern rock in even the largest markets, like New York City. This was featured in the latest Rolling Stone magazine, and reflected a conversation I had recently — a classic rock morning drive DJ, who works a small radio market.

The other story worth tracking  is the recent news, a rumor really, that the major labels will soon put a cease to producing compact discs.

If rock ain’t dead yet, it’s considering putting Doc Kevorkian on the speed dial.

More after the jump.

Detroit, MI

The control of the radio industry is held by a very few number of companies, the greatest of which is held by Clear Channel — whose history of homogenizing playlists, voice-tracking jocks from afar, and being conservative-friendly is quite well known — and followed by Cumulus. In October this year, according to the RS article, Clear Channel cut ‘hundreds of jobs,’ ranging from programing to on-air jocks in order to cut costs. Instead of locality, which most stations only get through (maybe?) individualized station IDs, a massive key playlist and shows helmed by big personalities that have no background in radio, or even music in general.

A spokesperson from Clear Channel called this a move in ‘giving our listeners what they want,’ in addition to being a spectacular idea in making more economic radio. This quote bothered me, because if the audiences don’t care about local talent and tastes, playing the same 50 songs or so every hour, then it would seem that rock fans have abandoned radio all together, or that the death of the local top 10 records lists that made radio so engaging in the 60′s made them give up, and only now are people actively looking for new sounds, which are only available through the digital market, which is still dominated by the artists peddled by the majors. Even though you and I may be well aware of how to navigate the world wide web for the sake of finding new music, the fact that poppy non-rock bands like Maroon 5, and the tired post-grunge sounds of Nickleback and Lifehouse, are considered rock is a painful reality to bear — especially when all three of these bands can be found on adult contemporary stations in equal rotations and time slots. As for classic rock, the most dangerous affect that Clear Channel’s lead on the format is the idea that all markets would have an equal appreciation for the same playlists. While classic rock is a format that is comfortable with spoon-feeding its demographic exactly what it wants (being the music of middle aged dudes who like their TV loud and their beer cold), it just seems backward to cater to a region’s taste in music. There is no reason for Lynyrd Skynyrd and the Allman Brothers to get as much play as they do here in New York as they do in, say, Atlanta.

I have a theory: if classic rock stations were more willing to commit to the idea of an entire album being worthy of play (as the so-called ‘album-oriented rock’ format suggests), and stray away from the tracks that the stations do focus on and really dive into an artist’s playlist for some music the demographic probably hasn’t heard since skipping gym class, you’d probably find a remedy for the phenomenon of the mid-life crisis. But I digress.

But then what of alternative acts who bring in big bucks through tours and festivals? Some of those bands (who, RS considered Red Hot Chili Peppers and Coldplay as peers and worthy of being considered ‘rock,’) could find home in more adventurous classic rock stations. RHCP certainly do, and in a few years time, who knows where the Black Keys will wind up, as the one band whose music is perhaps primed to be considered classic rock. Give it 20-30 years.

Big B and Toast, and the Morning Zu Crue, at your Local Radio Station.

The beauty is that the smallest markets, some that could still be considered in metropolis-type cities, are still locally owned, and could break emerging artists, if a programmer and jock is attentive to the Internet buzz, and hope to make it translate. But of course, the success of that artist then becomes entirely reliant on whether their popularity in Frog Nuts, Arkansas will spread to somewhere bigger like St. Louis.

But then the question is how to judge radio’s influence on sales in regional markets, when the labels are finally — finally! — figuring how to command this digital market thing, and just nip CDs in the bud.

While vinyl has enjoyed the resurgence that it has in the recent years, it indicates that while some artists and genres are capable of keeping the format alive by appealing to audiophiles, hipsters, and obsessives. But those aren’t the people dominating the consumption of music. Like cult-favorite television shows that face the threat of cancellation, this would affect a small but extremely passionate audience that demands such a level of quality. The actual audio quality of LPs can be debated back and forth and forever, and the supposed reduced quality of CDs seem to suggest that we could survive on LPs and digital format alone. But the fact remains is that, technologically speaking, there is still a market that has yet to adapt to digital 100%, nor are LPs and digital the most economical formats themselves.

CDs still count. Maybe not they did in their early 90′s heyday, but it’s the format that Billboard measures in terms of success. If LP and digital downloads were to be the only formats available, we’re looking at a completely polarized market that forgets a middle audience that still exists and consumes music. And while being exclusively digital indicates that the industry is finally getting over the idea that digital music is not synonymous with piracy as a concept, it would seem foolish to return to the open arms of vinyl as the format of measuring success.

Now, I am not a smart man, but it would seem to me that the music industry is still living in the stone age in terms of how to measure a record’s influence and success. But this does leave other questions open about how we as the audience consume our music, and beyond format. I’m talking about behaviors. Who we like, why we like it, and how does it appeal to us, the most passionate of audiences, in terms of the canon of all-time great rock and roll? Even as a wildly changing animal, from decade to decade (some better than others), rock and roll still speaks to us, as plainly yet articulately, as any other art form.

We know the industry is a bunch of lumbering dinosaurs. So tell me: what the hell is our problem!?