Mind the Gap

Sharpen your pencils, music makers: Composing original jingles is back!

"Years ago it was selling out -- now we call it selling in," Mr. [Mike] Boris said.

Er, wait a sec, a big part of this is not actually composing jingles in the traditional sense. This Advertising Age report reads like the trend falls more along the lines of people writing pop songs that can be licensed cheaper and with less cultural baggage than a U2 tune to sell a product, and just maybe the artist can ride that freight train to popularity at the same time. It's...a strategy.

In fact, music was the only production category that saw an increase in budget last year, according to a 2010 study from the 4A's; the Association of Music Producers (AMP) reported 78% of its members' income came from original music vs. 22% from licensed music and arrangements in a spring 2010 survey.

"It seems like the cycle is ebbing slightly, and it may be less popular to align yourself with a major superstar," said Elizabeth Myers, president of AMP and co-founder of Trivers Myers Music. She suggests it could be a reflection of the economic mood -- original music feels more simple and real. And, she said, "in America, the clients like to own that identity that comes with original music."

Just don't tell Neil...

I'm not usually a sentimentalist, but after slogging through recent weeks of news rich with intolerance and violence (I'll spare you the litany of links), this vet's story of music and humanity sneaked into my Google reader thanks to a friend and provided a glimmer of, well, hope in the midst of what all too often feels like an endlessly horrific news cycle.

Towards the end of the clip, he states his name as Jack LeRoy Tueller, and a little searching turns up this CNN news item which offers a more detailed account of Jack's narrative than the video provides. A newspaper account seems to indicate that the clip is part of a larger "Utah World War II Stories" series filmed by local PBS affiliate KUED. Search results also turn up a 33-page interview conducted by KUED, if you really find yourself engaged by Jack and his stories. My own Papa having passed on, I admit I'm working my way through the transcript.

Thanks for sharing, Col. Jack.

It's August. It's Monday. Delay it for 6:20.

Later on if you want to get all philosophical around the water cooler, segue from here into a discussion of sampling, appropriation of pop culture reference points, and what defines art and culture in 2010. Then take it to licensing and legal complexities if you're nasty.

Has your board asked you to craft a social media strategy for your organization? Are you unable/unwilling to stop and think through what options make the most sense in light of your mission? No problem!*

*(Be advised that the site employs coarse language, if you're sensitive to that sort of thing.)

I have joined forces with two fellow amateur gourmets and started blogging about my kitchen exploits. It took a swift kick (from a certain friend we've heard from in this space before) to convince me that there was enough time in the day to add this activity, and now that I'm in it, I am hooked. So where previously I have tried to sneak the occasional pseudo food posting into this space, now things will be neatly divided--just as the internet intended!

This divide and conquer mentality, however, got me thinking about a day last winter when Orange County Register music critic Timothy Mangan posted his martini recipe to his newspaper's dining blog but also made mention of it in his usual classical music space. Audiences meshed, and music and cocktail fans came together to passionately debate the subtle variations between vermouth distilleries. The community expanded (if briefly). It was if we went on a field trip together. It was a beautiful thing.

So when I read about how we are trading the open internet for app-specific content delivery, I got a bit of a sinking feeling similar to the one I get every time I look at the 12-deep stack of unopened Harper's magazines on my coffee table. I still feel like I read a lot each day, but now that I sit at my computer every morning and don't commute to work, gone are those unexpected but powerful moments when I read about people and places I would never otherwise have known about, and do so simply because they are profiled in the magazine that I have stashed in my bag for when my subway train is "held momentarily" for 20 minutes. You may be able to Google your way to any bit of information you could need, but accidental enlightenment seems to take some serious commitment and concentration in 2010. There may be 800 unread posts in my Google reader, but I know from experience that most of them will be just more of the same. This seems to indicate the need for an active readjustment of how I distribute my attention every day if I am to have any shot at continuing to grow as a person. I can't imagine I am alone in this frustration.

Circling this all the way around to music then (hey, I was getting there), no matter what genre or artist we are advocating for, do we need to be adjusting our efforts due to declining opportunities for chance discovery? Will there be a reaction to this boxing up of information and an audience hungry for something new that we can be prepared to feed when the time comes?

While you're thinking that over, feel free to stop by the kitchen for a snack anytime!

The last time I cruised through NYC I had the chance to chat with Tristan Perich about his 1-Bit Symphony in advance of its official release on Cantaloupe next week. The article and video that resulted are online now on NewMusicBox.

I have to say the music itself is fantastic, but the trappings it comes packaged inside add a great deal to think about as well. Plus there's something amazingly powerful as far as audience connectivity is concerned in getting to do something as simple as launching the performance by physically turning the thing on. To me, it was like being invited to knock down the first domino of an elaborately set chain. Immensely fascinating stuff.

I've managed to miss all the installments in the Step Up movie franchise (aside from the over the top trailers showcasing the struggles of dancers working out rich/poor, uptown/downtown, ballerina vs the street cliches), and the latest "now-in-3D!" chapter doesn't quite sound like the place to wade in:

Preposterous plot devices, leaden acting, and clunktastic dialogue are acceptable in a dance movie, but bad choreography is not, and it's during the dance scenes that Step Up 3D fails. (from the Slate review)

Even though I like dance, I'm not quite sure that the best things happen while you're dancing when you're simultaneously trying to advance a plot. (SYTYCD and Dancing With The Stars made me think that adding a panel of judges to the mix was also a bad idea, but clearly I'm in the minority on that one.) All of that is an overly long way of explaining why I, an avid Hulu user, had also been avoiding the internet channel's special made-for-Internet production THE LXD. I may love new media experiments, but the name alone--The Legion of Extraordinary Dancers (!)--was much too much more than my jaded mind could take.

Still, battling a bout of insomnia the other night, I noticed that the episodes didn't require much of a time investment and I caved to taking a sample. And then I proceeded to watch them all. It was a fun ride! I started to wonder about all those conversations we have in the wider performing arts field about the work we love and the public we know we need to find new ways to reach. Will THE LXD and slickly packaged productions like it do anything to help advance that audience-building cause? Here's a sample to help you decide: