The Social Network 2

So many of you already know my feelings towards Facebook. This film trailer nails it:

Facebook and the OpenGraph

I know I hardly come on this to post things anymore. I apologize. I'm a little overworked currently.

That said, for all you Facebook lovers, I think it is important you read what Enrique has to say. Facebook is going in a new direction as of this past summer, and you, as long as you maintain an account, can do nothing about it.

Read how it collects information on everything you do HERE.

And now read who is getting that information HERE.

Stop Coddling the Super-Rich

This is an op-ed piece written by Warren E. Buffett for the New York Times. There is nothing left to say.

Published: August 14, 2011

~~~~~~~

Omaha

OUR leaders have asked for “shared sacrifice.” But when they did the asking, they spared me. I checked with my mega-rich friends to learn what pain they were expecting. They, too, were left untouched.

While the poor and middle class fight for us in Afghanistan, and while most Americans struggle to make ends meet, we mega-rich continue to get our extraordinary tax breaks. Some of us are investment managers who earn billions from our daily labors but are allowed to classify our income as “carried interest,” thereby getting a bargain 15 percent tax rate. Others own stock index futures for 10 minutes and have 60 percent of their gain taxed at 15 percent, as if they’d been long-term investors.

These and other blessings are showered upon us by legislators in Washington who feel compelled to protect us, much as if we were spotted owls or some other endangered species. It’s nice to have friends in high places.

Last year my federal tax bill — the income tax I paid, as well as payroll taxes paid by me and on my behalf — was $6,938,744. That sounds like a lot of money. But what I paid was only 17.4 percent of my taxable income — and that’s actually a lower percentage than was paid by any of the other 20 people in our office. Their tax burdens ranged from 33 percent to 41 percent and averaged 36 percent.

If you make money with money, as some of my super-rich friends do, your percentage may be a bit lower than mine. But if you earn money from a job, your percentage will surely exceed mine — most likely by a lot.

To understand why, you need to examine the sources of government revenue. Last year about 80 percent of these revenues came from personal income taxes and payroll taxes. The mega-rich pay income taxes at a rate of 15 percent on most of their earnings but pay practically nothing in payroll taxes. It’s a different story for the middle class: typically, they fall into the 15 percent and 25 percent income tax brackets, and then are hit with heavy payroll taxes to boot.

Back in the 1980s and 1990s, tax rates for the rich were far higher, and my percentage rate was in the middle of the pack. According to a theory I sometimes hear, I should have thrown a fit and refused to invest because of the elevated tax rates on capital gains and dividends.

I didn’t refuse, nor did others. I have worked with investors for 60 years and I have yet to see anyone — not even when capital gains rates were 39.9 percent in 1976-77 — shy away from a sensible investment because of the tax rate on the potential gain. People invest to make money, and potential taxes have never scared them off. And to those who argue that higher rates hurt job creation, I would note that a net of nearly 40 million jobs were added between 1980 and 2000. You know what’s happened since then: lower tax rates and far lower job creation.

Since 1992, the I.R.S. has compiled data from the returns of the 400 Americans reporting the largest income. In 1992, the top 400 had aggregate taxable income of $16.9 billion and paid federal taxes of 29.2 percent on that sum. In 2008, the aggregate income of the highest 400 had soared to $90.9 billion — a staggering $227.4 million on average — but the rate paid had fallen to 21.5 percent.

The taxes I refer to here include only federal income tax, but you can be sure that any payroll tax for the 400 was inconsequential compared to income. In fact, 88 of the 400 in 2008 reported no wages at all, though every one of them reported capital gains. Some of my brethren may shun work but they all like to invest. (I can relate to that.)

I know well many of the mega-rich and, by and large, they are very decent people. They love America and appreciate the opportunity this country has given them. Many have joined the Giving Pledge, promising to give most of their wealth to philanthropy. Most wouldn’t mind being told to pay more in taxes as well, particularly when so many of their fellow citizens are truly suffering.

Twelve members of Congress will soon take on the crucial job of rearranging our country’s finances. They’ve been instructed to devise a plan that reduces the 10-year deficit by at least $1.5 trillion. It’s vital, however, that they achieve far more than that. Americans are rapidly losing faith in the ability of Congress to deal with our country’s fiscal problems. Only action that is immediate, real and very substantial will prevent that doubt from morphing into hopelessness. That feeling can create its own reality.

Job one for the 12 is to pare down some future promises that even a rich America can’t fulfill. Big money must be saved here. The 12 should then turn to the issue of revenues. I would leave rates for 99.7 percent of taxpayers unchanged and continue the current 2-percentage-point reduction in the employee contribution to the payroll tax. This cut helps the poor and the middle class, who need every break they can get.

But for those making more than $1 million — there were 236,883 such households in 2009 — I would raise rates immediately on taxable income in excess of $1 million, including, of course, dividends and capital gains. And for those who make $10 million or more — there were 8,274 in 2009 — I would suggest an additional increase in rate.

My friends and I have been coddled long enough by a billionaire-friendly Congress. It’s time for our government to get serious about shared sacrifice.

Move

As most of you already know, I did a lot of traveling in my twenties. One of the things that I did after about 7 months on the road was purchase an second-hand camcorder. My idea was simple--record as much "global" coverage as possible with the intention of editing it someday to some cool music for my children and/or grandkids to have.

Well, I haven't really got around to it yet. While I did employ my uncle to transfer all of the film to digital DVD so I could edit more easily on my Mac, the project still remains untouched.

Last night, I was wandering around the computer machine and stumbled upon a series of shorts by Rick Mereki. I was blown away. Needless to say, my own personal project looked as if it will never match the creative brilliance of this young man.

Below is one of three videos he has posted on his Vimeo page. I leave the rest to you to explore, and all I can say is--kudos to you, Mr. Mereki. Genius.

Enjoy.

MOVE from Rick Mereki on Vimeo.

For the love of Gawd, Vancouver

No, this is not about the Stanley Cup embarrassment.

This week, a friend of mine forwarded me this Craigslist ad because, in her words, "Made me think of you...."

Allow me to sum it up for you: A Vancouver musician has his studio broken into and all of his equipment stolen. Now, it is bad enough that someone/some people would think of robbing musicians, when you read this guy's story, you really feel for him.

Musicians offer our world an escape from reality. And they do so for free. How anyone could look at themselves in the mirror after stealing from artists who offer happiness for free is beyond me. If you feel the need to sack a place, what's wrong with a bank or an insurance company?

Whoever is responsible for this theft, I hope you get caught. And I hope you pay a serious penalty for your crime. But more importantly, I hope Maurice and his son get their guitar back. People like you disgust me.

This is a plea readers, to pass this on to as many people as you can in the hopes that the guitar gets returned to its rightful owner. Please help Maurice and his son get their Les Paul back!

http://vancouver.en.craigslist.ca/rds/msg/2449158332.html

Wise idiot

Last week on my radio show I sat down with Jackass number one, Steve-O, to discuss his recent publication, Professional Idiot: A Memoir. Thinking a book from the most famous self-mutilating clown at the turn of the century would be written in crayon and loaded with spelling and grammar errors would have you mistaken. It's not what you expect. Steve-O takes a large step back and provides an amazing account of his life and how he came to be broke, abused, and in a Psych ward after attempting suicide. Now completely sober and vegan, the man (progressed from the boy) has a life's worth of lessons to shed. It's worth every moment.

"I had these mortality issues where I was conflicted and angry about the way that our main instinct as human beings is to survive--our survival instinct overrides everything. And yet we're plainly aware that we're not gonna survive. So, it occurred to me at a pretty young age that, 'Hold on a second--the one thing that we care the most about is "don't die" and yet we know we're gonna die.' How is our existence just not a cruel prank on us?"

Click HERE to listen to the interview.

Authentic Creativity vs. Karaoke Culture

In October 2009, Malcolm McLaren delivered a speech discussing the future of education, culture, and anglo-saxon identity in the 21st century. Much of the focus is on his own personal life and experiences with British education in the 1950s and '60s. The talk has been reviewed as "longwinded" and it is a fair accusation to be made. That being said, for anyone who can get over the inserted personal anecdotes (of which I found to be quite interesting actually), the message is a powerful one.

Without struggle, grandiose failure, and the audacity to fearlessly challenge today's culture of immediate fame and success, our world (the Western world, or more specifically, the colonial world) will continue on a self-destructive path where karaoke reigns over invention. What kind of cultural environmental damage are we doing by teaching the message that fame overnight, without years of hard-work, struggle, and failure, should be the aspiration of the young?

The age of the "televised talent-show" is, unfortunately, what propels so much of the world's youth today. It's result? A so-called artist who will tell you herself that she is "famous because of her academic approach to the study of fame itself," rather than her individual artistic talents or creativity. (Lady Gaga in an interview with 60 Minutes).

McLaren eventually brings his argument to the point that creativity is lost in: First - the education system; And now second - the media, including social media. What hope does a child have who is taught to lose all sense of imagination in replace of instant gratification? You better believe this is the message being taught to children by their own cultural ecosystem today.

McLaren is smart to anchor his thesis in Baudelaire, who once wrote, "Genius is no more than childhood recaptured at will, childhood equipped now with man's physical means to express itself, and with the analytical mind that enables it to bring order into the sum of experience, involuntarily amassed."

Let us yearn to recapture the value of that childhood genius, analyzed and expressed as adults, and embrace it. May it never be "cool" again, to be stupid, immediate, or an undeserved icon.

I hope you take the time to watch this.

Happy Birthday Les Paul!

I won't do Google any justice. Get there. Today. NOW!

And let your Wang Dang Doodle shine!

Ahead of its time

Many of you are aware that this past May I completed a master's thesis in the study of music and American urban culture. For those of you who don't know, the paper--The Subway Sessions--was a sociological study on how the iPod is changing the way people use music as a response to their urban environment.

The idea came to me last summer, while doing an extended piece for BreakThru Radio that looked at the Music Under New York (aka 'MUNY') program. As my team's investigation into street musicians deepened, I began to pay attention to the habits of people on the subway who were engaged with personal listening devices more than I did the musicians struggling to make a buck. "I wonder what they are listening to?" was the first thought, immediately followed by "And how is that changing their perception of the environment?"

As summer turned into fall, I thought more and more about this oxymoronic 'public-private' soundtrack that lives in and under our streets. I eventually became so fascinated by the topic that I decided to pursue it as my major piece of graduate work.

When my research began last fall, there was little to nothing to be found that had been written on the topic. In the early 80s, just after Sony introduced the Walkman, a small onslaught of academic articles and studies (mostly from Japan for obvious reasons) appeared in musicological journals; but that was it. More recently, some bloggers of little academic or professional credential had postulated on what the effects of the iPod were in our society and to musicians, but it was difficult to find qualified research into this urban phenomenon.

It seems to me that ever since I finished my studies, there has been a deluge of work on this very topic. Some of it has been academic, like the article "Wall of Sound" that first appeared as an excerpt on Slate and was later published in full print in New York's n+1 magazine. This particular publication stung a bit. I had interviewed one of the editors at n+1 back in November, and we had discussed my thesis in detail. I was hoping to get it published in his magazine and he seemed to warm to the idea, which is why I was shocked to discover that n+1 had published a paper on this exact topic only two weeks before my thesis was turned in. The article's author, Nikil Saval, is a Ph.D. candidate at Stanford and assistant editor of n+1. I couldn't help but wonder, "Just how many subways are there in Stanford, California?"

Alas, not all of this, "What's on your iPod?" is academic. And thank God for that, for if it was it could get quite boring quickly. Take this Tumblr Web site for example, "What's On NYC?" that asks random New Yorkers with headphones on what songs they are listening to, and then maps and tags them on Google maps. This is exactly what I sought to track.

Smartphone apps are being developed by the day as well, or so it seems. We are seeing more and more technology that looks for ways to have fun and take advantage of individual urban soundtracks. Perhaps most famously, and successful, is Grammy's developed "Music Mapper" app, an application that lets you drop songs, write stories, and share your own "audiobiography" as you wander through life. Or, if you are more into seeing others lives than you are about sharing your own, you can pick up songs left by others and read what they have left for you within a specific radii of your location. Similarly, there is Schematic Labs developed "Soundtracking" app. It's kind of like Twitter, but with music. You can share what you are listening to on your iPhone with those who are in range of you and also have the same app. Similar, but more like Pandora radio, is Soundtracker, except it lets you see what your friends are listening to at any given moment as well as sharing your own music and using the application like a radio station.

There were times during my research when I was kicking myself for going the unconventional route on my graduate work. When I tried to explain to contemporaries what I was doing, including some professors, I often received sideways glances as if to say, "Where is the academia in that?" Now, I am almost moved to shock to see just how trendy my topic was.

The words 'academic' and 'trend' don't seem to fit together all that well. All of this recent pop culture Youtube and Smartphone Application design surrounding the "What are you listening to?" inquiry risks making my thesis be received as cheap in many pretentious academic circles. Yet there is a whole other side to this argument--my graduate work was slightly ahead of its time. Too often the formal academy waits too long to begin to dissect major shifts in culture. There are some sound arguments as to why this is, staying power and effect being the most popular, but at the pace of information-exchange in which we now live, it may be that this patience bow to reality.

I don't know if my graduate work was "ahead of its time" or "cheapened academia". You can be the judge of that. What is for certain, is the amount of attention this curiosity is getting all over the world. It seems I am not the only one who started asking "What are you listening to?" and then set out to share these soundtracks with the rest of the world.

Two Thumbs Up for Rock n Roll

This morning I woke up to a very inspiring email from a very inspiring person.

Watching this video should bring a smile to your face. If it does not, I suggest you begin paying attention to that numbing in your left arm, the fading of your pulse, and call 911.

Recently, there was an article published in The New Yorker ("The Possibilian") that discussed David Eagleman's research into near-death experiences and the human perception of time. Eagleman is a Baylor College of Medicine Assistant Professor of Neuroscience, and Bilger's piece is well-written, but can be science-heavy at times. I will save you all a full-length synopsis in exchange for focusing on one very interesting anecdote to the research:

"One of the seats of emotion and memory in the brain is the amygdala," he explained. Basically, Eagleman's theory is that the more detailed the memory, the longer the moment seems to last. “This explains why we think that time speeds up when we grow older,” Eagleman said, "Why childhood summers seem to go on forever, while old age slips by while we’re dozing. The more familiar the world becomes, the less information your brain writes down, and the more quickly time seems to pass."

This small piece of science theory, if heeded, can play a very important role in our search for happiness. Once one is made aware that with age comes a dulling of perception, and this in turn effects experience and memory, one can begin to control for that variable.

Imagine if every day you tasted coffee for the first time, saw the sun rise for the first time, heard an engine click over for the first time, listened to the radio for the first time, or smelled the fragrances infused in bodywash and shampoo for the first time. According to Eagleman's science, the whole world would slow down, and your view of experience would precipitate accomplishment, pride, self-worth, and an ecstasy of what it is to be alive in this world.

Get out there and feel alive today; "feel happy of yourself."

The R.O.I Paradox

Scene: The Empire Hotel rooftop. 11:47pm, Friday night.

Attractive female: So... What do you do?

Me: Ummmm, I do a couple of things, but I am a student mainly.

Female: A grad student?

Me: Yeah.

Female: That's pretty cool. [Pauses. Sips cosmo.] MBA?

Me: No.

Female: What do you study?

Me: Ethnomusicology.

Female: Ethno-- what? I have never heard of that!

Me: I basically study the history of American music and how it relates to our culture and the American identity.

Female: That's pretty cool.

There is a long, awkward pause as I down the rest of my overpriced vodka and soda. She takes a long haul from her Parliament, staring off in another direction.

Female: So.... What are you gonna do with that?

The transcript is a conversation that I have had many times while living in New York. Ever since ditching my job in the Financial sector on Bay Street (Canada's version of Wall Street) and moving here to study the history of American music, I have been asked, and pondered myself, a million times what I was thinking. Like most graduate students pursuing arbitrary arts degrees, I quickly grew annoyed with the doubt and pity others have for those of us who have decided to forego a life in a cubicle in exchange for pursuing something desirous. Sadly, after two years of grad school and tens of thousands of dollars of debt, I wonder if the skepticism and pessimism directed my way was that unfair or inaccurate after all?

Fact: The amount of money Americans owe on student loans recently exceeded the nation's credit card debt. That's a tough pill to swallow, especially for those currently in or about to enter school. However, that cold, hard fact does not necessarily mean bad things if the debt is linked to someone pursuing a career in investment banking, software development, law or medicine. Regardless of how big a student's debt may be, for many professions, some simple budgeting techniques, discipline and common sense will see such students out of debt in five to ten years, and oftentimes much less. But what about the literature graduate student? Or the ethnomusicologist, the philosopher, Latin linguist, historian, or art curator? How will he or she get out of a $100,000 a financial hole on a $23,000 per year starting salary? The truth is most of them won't, or won't at any time soon, at least.

Making the decision to go back to graduate school has become tougher these days because of the costs involved. It calls into play the very old mathematical equation simply known as 'ROI'--an equation often used to measure problems in physics and economics, but is now used in so many other forms of logic. 'ROI' stands for "return on investment" and essentially measures how much of x one will receive back for every amount of x invested. X can stand for physical energy, mental energy, capital, time, effort, or whatever metric the person wishing to determine the calculation desires. It is a reliable formula that solves a simple problem: Am I going to get out more than I put in?

Perhaps the best example of this in modern science (or maybe the most important) that will fully help you to understand the importance of this equation is found in the oil deposits that run north-south through central-west North America. Scientists and geologists are fully aware of how rich the plains of Alberta, North and South Dakota, and Montana are. Just underneath the earth's surface are billions in oil sitting there for the taking. The problem is science has not yet figured out a way to extract the oil from the earth in a method that makes feasible sense. Yes, it can be extracted, but it takes more energy (i.e. 'use of oil in machinery') and costs more than would be gained from the oil itself. In other words, the ROI yields a negative result. Drilling on the other hand, whether it is in the ocean or from the sands surrounding the Red Sea, produces an ROI of great return and therefore continues to be the most profitable and used form of extraction. If we could just figure out a way to get the oil out of the plains as cheaply as we already do on our shores, the entire central-western region of this continent could become the new Saudi Arabia.

So what does all of this have to do with education and arts degrees? Well, it's simple--and depressing. The ROI of higher education in many disciplines is nil, if not grossly negative. That being said, one has to wonder why so many people still pursue it (including myself). It is fair to surmise that formal education is losing its clout on a resume. Employers seem to be less interested in one's classroom experience and more interested in practical experience when looking to hire permanent employees. Student financial aid expert Steve Kantrowitz has this piece of advice for those swimming in the decision: "It's smart if it's enabling you to invest in your future. But if you borrow more than your expected starting salary after you graduate, you're going to struggle to pay your loans." This is an excellent metric to use as a guideline. Before going back to school, one should ask themselves, "What job market will I enter upon graduating? What is the likelihood of being hired? And what are the starting salaries and long-term opportunities?"

To push the pessimistic reality even further, it is one thing to measure the starting salary versus the anticipated debt; it is another thing to determine if there will even be a starting salary! "I can see someone borrowing perhaps $10,000 a year if they're majoring in science, technology, engineering, mathematics, computer science or nursing," says Kantrowitz, the publisher of the FinAid and Fastweb websites. "But I can't see borrowing that amount of money for a degree in art, or humanities, or sociology, because the jobs just don't pay as well for those fields of study."

Justifying $50,000 spent on a master's in ethnomusicology is tough to do, especially when the careers obtainable with such a degree are limited to 1. Teaching other students of ethnomusicology, or 2. Becoming a music librarian. It is critical to note that in a majority of the cases, both jobs pay very little. If music is your dream, however, and you are miserable doing whatever else it is that you are doing, and you know you are not good enough to make it as a professional musician, then this presents the paradox: What is the price of happiness? Is it worth the interest of paying back $50,000 over twenty years? The fiscal ROI may not be even close, but including the added value of happiness in what you do may be enough to balance the equation.

If you were to take a loan out today for 50 grand and it took you 20 years to pay it back, the total cost of the loan would be close to $86,000 (assuming a 6% APR). Now, you would have to ask yourself: Is pursuing a career in something you love worth $86,000 plus the lost years of income while you were at school? Some would answer that it is and others, not a chance. One thing is for certain--the ROI, financially, is a major loss. What has to be brought into the equation is the price of happiness.

There are two schools of thought here. Two old, retired men sit at a bar sharing a couple of pints. Both worked their asses off for their entire lives selling life insurance, and both were less than eager for the profession. The one man, when asked about the fruits of his labor and the opportunity to go back in time and do it all over again offers the following: "I wouldn't change a thing. I got up every morning, worked hard, saved money, and here I am--retired, happy, and enjoying all that I have worked for. A job is a job. Americans today seem to think a job is about fun and happiness. There is no work ethic anymore. The dignity of hard labor and commitment has been lost."

The other gentleman chimes in: "I'd go back in a second, even if it cost me twice as much as $86,000. I would go right back to being a young twenty-something and risk it all to chase my dream and live a profession I'd be proud of and wasn't a job at all. There is no price tag on that. My advice is to go after it, whatever it costs, and live everyday of your life doing something you love regardless of the financial burden."

Head's Up: Some Lingo fro the Front Lines

Slang comes from everywhere. It is born in the streets where less formally educated people discover new ways to communicate in a language they can call their own. Slang is invented in cultural melting-pot urban centers as a method for communication between peoples born of different languages. Slang rises from artistic expression, popular culture iconicity, and the many sporting cultures that exist throughout the world. Slang, really does come from everywhere.

If there is one common denominator to be pulled from each of the examples provided above it is this - esotericism. Finding a new way to express or refer to a particular thing and to a particular small group of people creates the feeling of belongingness, or perhaps taking it even a little further--exclusivity. The ability to speak in a tongue that is only understood by people one considers his or her peers is an intentional exercise in boasting membership. A great example of this is found in Steven Spielberg's Saving Private Ryan. When the young, raw, and terrified Corporal Upham is forced to join a crew of soldiers deep into retreating enemy territory for a special operation, his status as a "non-member" is quickly established and vocalized:

"Brotherhood? What do ya know about brotherhood? Get a load o' this guy." (The other soldiers laugh)....

Private Reiben: "Even if you think the mission is Fubar, sir?"

Captain Miller: "Especially if you think the mission's Fubar."

Corporal Upham: "What's Fubar?"

Private Mellish: "Uh, it's German."

Corporal Upham: "Hm. I never heard of that."

Of course, it is obvious to the rest of the small outfit, and most keen viewers, that the word is not German at all, but instead holds a definition that one has to earn. After a few further references to the acronymic term, and Upham's realization that he stands on the outside of his admired "brotherhood," Corporal Upham finally receives the rite, and the inside language is bestowed upon him.

Nothing exists in of itself until it has a language. The loyalty and brotherhood that forms during a time of war is something that I can say I am fortunate enough to have never fully grasped; and let me hope I don't ever have to. It is clear that a certain amount of respect was attached to specific language, words, acronyms, and phrases. But when these terms come to be a part of our conventional language at home, have we somehow cheapened the institution from which they were born? The truth is, I don't know, because I have never been a soldier and therefore cannot relate to any emotions arisen when I hear a businessmen relate to cold calls as front lines; when I hear a repair man say he spent the day in the trenches, or when a rapper tells me to listen up as he prepares to drop bombs on me.

Much of our vocabulary was born in the military. Mark Peters of the online journal Psychology Today lists the benefits of such age-old practice. "Wars always generate new slang, which serves crucial psychological functions for soldiers. Among the benefits: Lightening the mood; Establishing identity; Connecting with home; Venting frustration; and dehumanizing the enemy."[1]

I spent this past Memorial Day Weekend in New York City, where I live, and for those readers who are unaware, it is a weekend in which our city is completely overrun by Marines, Naval Officers, and many other members of the U.S. Armed Forces. For any of the young men and women I spoke to, they were kind and courteous, as if their duties of respect stretch far beyond the bridges of their battleships. When eavesdropping on conversations between themselves at restaurants, bars, or just the sidewalk as I prepared to write this piece, I was never surprised to not-hear anything I couldn't recognize as their own language. The speed at which slang is appropriated because of social media has removed that rite of passage, a la "Fubar," that once tied itself to the lexicon of war.

Happy Birthday Ole Boy

Today is Bob Dylan's 70th Birthday. There is enough being written about this all over the Interwebs machines from Fiji to Greenland for me to add anything of historical value. For example, a professor of mine at Columbia added his thoughts on Dylan's pubescent turn-around as a 14 year old in Hibbing, Minnesota to the New York Times--an interesting op-ed twist to the mainstream birthday wishes. Click HERE to read more.

Rolling Stone Magazine has dedicated their entire current issue to Dylan turning 70 by listing "the top 70 Dylan songs" (a list I reviewed, and one I think they have made some pretty strange suggestions on). For all things RSM-Dylan, click HERE.

There is nothing really more to be said about this. In a recent letter to his fans and the media, Bob Dylan chastised people like me who focus all their energies on trying to unlock some magic truth behind the man in a sneering sarcasm that only he can pull off so perfectly.

"Everybody knows by now that there's a gazillion books on me either out or coming out in the near future. So I'm encouraging anybody who's ever met me, heard me or even seen me, to get in on the action and scribble their own book. You never know, somebody might have a great book in them."

I'm back. Here's to the city that puts the syrup on my flapjacks

It's been a while, I know.

Months getting through phase one of the Washington project, completing my thesis, and graduating, and I am happy to say I have come out alive.

More to come, but until I get to the writing--enjoy this little video that says it all about this great city.

Gotta love New York...

Here Comes the Man

"Well, they told me to come on over


I made my way to New York


And they tried to have me deported


Stop me from getting work


Blacklisted me all over


They were vicious and they were mean


They were big time operators


Baby, on the music business scene."

- Van Morrison, "Big Time Operators"

It is well documented that Bing Crosby was a ferocious father who beat his sons and enstilled years of depression into his entire family. Yet every December, hundreds of thousands of Americans put on White Christmas and lose themselves in the magic of the season to Crosby's swooning voice "roasting chestnuts" and "dreaming of a white Christmas." It is safe to say that many are completely oblivious to the fact that Crosby liked to use his sons like a chain-hung Everlast bag. I ask you then, do people really care about the man behind the music? Especially when the music is so good?

Thursday was St. Patrick's Day and BreakThru Radio has dedicated all things this week to the Emerald Isle. To do my part, I want to try to expose the truth behind a rumor regarding an Irish musician that only some of you young listeners may have heard, few of you may actually know more than a few songs by, and most of you probably won't have a clue who I am talking about: Van Morrison. (I realize I am not giving BTR's listeners much credit here. My editor already scolded me, and in all fairness, he is right to do so. I just find it infuriating when people find out I am a huge Van Morrison fan and start whistling the melody to "Brown Eyed Girl". It's like thinking The Beatles stopped recording after "Love Me Do".) Here is what one music blogger has to say about 'Van the Man': "Van Morrison is a cantankerous, paranoid asshole who thinks everyone is stealing his ideas." Okay, that is pretty much to the point; but is it true? Well, as a staunch Van Morrison fan of over 15 years, owner of 33 Van albums, three DVDs, having read two biographies on the man, and seeing him perform over five times, I can pretty much confirm that from everything I have seen and learned--yep, the guy is a real Irish prick!

But who cares?

Like so many great artists before him, Van Morrison is a victim of being identified with only one or two pieces of his work--most commonly "Brown Eyed Girl" and then maybe "Gloria" or "Moondance", or perhaps "Baby Please Don't Go" (which, ironically enough, is a song he did not even write but adapted from American bluesman, John

Lee Hooker). Understandably, Morrison gets very annoyed at the banal expectations of his more pedestrian fans to perform those specific 'hits' from fifty years ago. I was once at one show in Toronto where Van opened up with "Tupelo Honey" and immediately followed, without break, into "Brown Eyed Girl." Knowing these Morrison-identifiers are usually saved for the encore, I was both shocked and pleased at his decision to get the crap out so early. When "Brown Eyed Girl" ended, Van looked aimlessly to the side of the stage, took a sip from a nearby glass, and announced something to the effect of: "Now that we got that shit outta the way, we can get on with the real show." Half the audience cheered as the rest sat dumbfounded, understanding neither the man's accent nor the truthful pleasure in his jest.

(Interluding anecdote: The song "Brown Eyed Girl" was originally written, recorded and titled as "Brown-Skinned Girl" by Van Morrison in March of 1966. Morrison begrudgingly had to change the lyrics because of the implied content. The song, "an exuberant combination of R&B and pop with a nostalgic lyric celebrating the euphoria of young love,"[1] was a little too risqué of a topic [inter-racial relations] for 1966 and Morrison lost his will to fight Producer Bert Berns' insistence on "radio playability.")

Van Morrison's attitude towards life and his music is a combination of his own eccentricity and abuse at the hands of the industry. For an only child growing up in the civil unrest of Belfast during the middle decades of the twentieth century, Van had an astonishing talent and obsession for American music (specifically the Delta Blues). He became insistent on 'making it in America' after breaking from his founding band, Them (who were known for their macho and pugnacious attitude towards the burgeoning 'pop' industry) because of their less-than-shared vision of musical competence.

In 1966, Van made the move to New York City where he was quickly picked up by Producer Berns of Bang Records (a partner of Atlantic). As a ruthless businessman eager to feed off the new Irish talent behind Them's success, Burns quickly recorded Van's new single and soon-to-be US Top 10 hit "Brown Eyed Girl" (1966). Upon arriving in New York, Morrison recorded a number of singles for Berns who robbed him of the royalties through a deceptive contract and sent him packing back to Ireland flat broke. Even worse, Berns coerced Morrison into signing a "five-year publishing deal for a non-recoupable advance of $500." It was a deal Morrison would never emotionally recover from, later describing the arrangement as "professional suicide."[1]

Already fragile because of his extraordinary quirkiness and lack of social skills, Morrison's opinion of the music industry was ruined for life, and with good cause. What makes Morrison so admirable is the way in which he channeled that anger and hatred into fifty years of amazing albums. Watch this video, recorded in Canada in 2008, to get a sense of Morrison's continued disdain for "the record industry" still, forty-four years later:

It is a fair statement to presume that anyone who is a serious Van Morrison fan is most likely aware of his reputation around the industry; both within musician circles and fans alike. A review of one of Morrison's more recent unauthorized biographies, (one I have not read) titled Can You Feel the Silence (2003), remarks how the biographer "makes no bones" about Morrison's "even-handed manner," claiming that "Morrison may have made much more great music than bad, but it always comes with the caveat that Van the Man is essentially difficult and nasty." Biographer Clinton Heylin immediately sets the tone to his book, opening with a Morrison quote on himself; "'Hello darlin', I never said I was a nice guy.'" Yet, the response I usually like to give to the one in one hundred people who know Van's legendary temper is, "Who cares? Do you know anything about his music beyond five popular songs from the Sixties? The man is a musical genius."

Sir Harold Nicolson, the British writer, diplomat, and politician, once said of the Irish: "The Irish do not want anyone to wish them well; they want everyone to wish their enemies ill." This may be what best sums up Van Morrison: a young Irish musician burned early on in the ugly corporate world of American record labels who is unlikely to forgive and certain to never forget. Again, though, I ask: "Who cares?"

Van Morrison is a man about music and can do without the rest of the bullshit. In one interview, he remarked how image, identity, and name mean nothing. "Can you play?" is all he asks of anyone. In Van's world, either you can or you can't. That's it. No questions asked. The circus of frenzy that attaches itself to the music industry is what makes Morrison so miserable, and in return, so crass.

'Just shut up and play,' is his mantra. And everything from the breaking down of his songs to an attempt to understand the motive behind each metaphor inflates irritation. Van Morrison will be the first to tell anyone that nothing else matters but the music:

"'No, no, no, because, it's not about me,' Morrison said with a vehemence that didn't sound defensive--as his denials, of anything, so often do. 'It's totally fictional. These are short stories, in musical form--put together of composites, of conversations I heard, things I saw, and movies, newspapers, books, and comes out as stories. That's it,' he said, though already his tone had shifted to that of utter wonder that people won't accept this. 'There's no more.'"[3]

[1] Rogan, Johnny. Van Morrison: No Surrender (London: Vintage Books, 2006) Pg. 199.
[2] ibid.
[3]Marcus, Greil. When That Rough Goes Riding (New York: Public Affairs, 2010) Pg. 140.