Gotta check this out later.

NYTimes: Now the Music Industry Wants Guitarists to Stop Sharing:

The Internet put the music industry and many of its listeners at odds thanks to the popularity of services like Napster and Grokster. Now the industry is squaring off against a surprising new opponent: musicians.

In the last few months, trade groups representing music publishers have used the threat of copyright lawsuits to shut down guitar tablature sites, where users exchange tips on how to play songs like “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door,” “Highway to Hell” and thousands of others.

The battle shares many similarities with the war between Napster and the music recording industry, but this time it involves free sites like Olga.net, GuitarTabs.com and MyGuitarTabs.com and even discussion boards on the Google Groups service like alt.guitar.tab and rec.music.makers.guitar.tablature, where amateur musicians trade “tabs” — music notation especially for guitar — for songs they have figured out or have copied from music books.

On the other side are music publishers like Sony/ATV, which holds the rights to the songs of John Mayer, and EMI, which publishes Christina Aguilera’s music.

Speaking as a guitarist, Olga.net and services like it have helped inspire me to learn new songs when the urge arises and inspiration hits. Countless songs. I’ve forgotten far more then I can play (that’s not saying much with my little memory or lack of talent).

Speaking as a social media groupie, Olga.net and services like it, represent the ultimate in what online community can aspire too. Olga.net was started way back in 1992. 1992! You want to see the Long Tail of the Web at work? Well dive in you would find tabs posted on the most non-mainstream of artists you could think of. Why do folks contribute so much of their time and effort transcribing these songs so that others may learn them?

Love. The free exchange of knowledge – driven by love of subject matter and the desire to share. As purest an expression of that human need as any else online.

And the bastards are moving to take it down for a little additional profit.

Let me join with Kent Newsome (who posted a great description of what guitar tablature is) and Mathew Ingram in protesting this latest industry blunder.

Rock n’ Roll shouldn’t have a hall of fame. It just shouldn’t. Official ‘recognition’ of Rock artists devalues and degrades the core of what Rock is all about. Now getting past that, since there is a “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame”, the fact that Alice Cooper isn’t in it, just goes to show just how broken it is.

Bob Lefsetz: This Week�s Podcast – Alice Cooper

A VC: Nuggets

Kent Newsome: Another Vote for Alice

I can’t wait for Sam Dunn and Scot McFadyen’s anthropological look at Heavy Metal to be released on DVD later this month. Yahoo! had a writeup about the film earlier in the week.

Check out “Metal: A Headbanger’s Journey”‘s trailer.

From a Chicago Tribune review:

Unlike the current youth movement Emo, metal was never “a way to understand your loneliness,” says music writer and pop-culture sensei Chuck Klosterman, “but it’s a way to feel a part of something larger than yourself.” So Dunn travels to Germany’s Wacken Open Air festival to mosh with 40,000 other metalheads and experience that larger-than-life adrenaline rush that makes otherwise intelligent kids thrash their heads toward permanent brain damage.

Touching on sex, religion and violence, Dunn zooms through the history of metal (the genre is rooted in blues and, more obviously, classical), rattling off a mind-blowing list of musical subgenres, from heavy to punk to British to black to speed to death to hair –to name a few.

From Ruthless Reviews:

…this wonderfully entertaining movie doesn’t pit bands against each other, or foolishly attempt to argue in favor of Megadeth’s importance while picking on “lesser” bands like Motley Crue and Poison. From glam to progressive, black metal to thrash, it’s all the same silly, loveable music. It made us laugh, helped us accept a solitary prom night, and allowed us to feel superior to those burdened by the bad taste of associating with Duran Duran or Wham. Metal is a dying giant to be sure, and is rarely discussed without some sort of VH1 “Where are They Now?” detachment, but fans remain; scattered and low key, perhaps, but still in love with a style of music that always managed to piss somebody off. It was about rebellion, arrogance, and hate, yes, but also the true spirit of the form — being an individual. Sure, we always exaggerated the impact, and more often than not the lyrics were nothing more than the umpteenth derivation of fucking a slut in the back of the tour bus, but we could read between the lines, even then. All we knew was that our parents hated it, Congress sought to act against it, and for the time it took to finish a cassette or LP, we felt like gods. Zit-ridden, painfully shy, and inept on all fronts, but gods nonetheless.

My kinda movie.

NYTimes: Chuck Klosterman: The Ratt Trap:

Dee Dee Ramone and Robbin Crosby were both shaggy-haired musicians who wrote aggressive music for teenagers. Both were unabashed heroin addicts. Neither was the star of his respective band: Dee Dee played bass for the Ramones, a seminal late-70’s punk band; Crosby played guitar for Ratt, a seminal early-80’s heavy-metal band. They died within 24 hours of each other last spring, and each had only himself to blame for the way he perished. In a macro sense, they were symmetrical, self-destructive clones; for anyone who isn’t obsessed with rock ‘n’ roll, they were basically the same guy.

Yet anyone who is obsessed with rock ‘n’ roll would define these two humans as diametrically different. To rock aficionados, Dee Dee and the Ramones were ”important” and Crosby and Ratt were not. We are all supposed to concede this. We are supposed to know that the Ramones saved rock ‘n’ roll by fabricating their surnames, sniffing glue and playing consciously unpolished three-chord songs in the Bowery district of New York. We are likewise supposed to acknowledge that Ratt sullied rock ‘n’ roll by abusing hair spray, snorting cocaine and playing highly produced six-chord songs on Hollywood’s Sunset Strip.

…What the parallel deaths of Ramone and Crosby prove is that it really doesn’t matter what you do artistically, nor does it matter how many people like what you create; what matters is who likes what you do artistically and what liking that art is supposed to say about who you are. Ratt was profoundly uncool (read: populist) and the Ramones were profoundly significant (read: interesting to rock critics). Consequently, it has become totally acceptable to say that the Ramones’ ”I Wanna Be Sedated” changed your life; in fact, saying that would define you as part of a generation that became disenfranchised with the soullessness of suburbia, only to rediscover salvation through the integrity of simplicity. However, it is laughable to admit (without irony) that Ratt’s ”I Want a Woman” was your favorite song in 1989; that would mean you were stupid, and that your teenage experience meant nothing, and that you probably had a tragic haircut.

The reason Crosby’s June 6 death was mostly ignored is that his band seemed corporate and fake and pedestrian; the reason Ramone’s June 5 death will be remembered is that his band was seen as representative of a counterculture that lacked a voice. But the contradiction is that countercultures get endless media attention: the only American perspectives thought to have any meaningful impact are those that come from the fringes. The voice of the counterculture is, in fact, inexplicably deafening. Meanwhile, mainstream culture (i.e., the millions and millions of people who bought Ratt albums merely because that music happened to be the soundtrack for their lives) is usually portrayed as an army of mindless automatons who provide that counterculture with something to rail against. The things that matter to normal people are not supposed to matter to smart people.

Now, I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking I’m overlooking the obvious, which is that the Ramones made ”good music” and Ratt made ”bad music,” and that’s the real explanation as to why we care about Dee Dee’s passing while disregarding Robbin’s. And that rebuttal makes sense, I suppose, if you’re the kind of person who honestly believes the concept of ”good taste” is anything more than a subjective device used to create gaps in the intellectual class structure (emphasis mine – Karl). I would argue that Crosby’s death was actually a more significant metaphor than Ramone’s, because Crosby was the first major hair-metal artist from the Reagan years to die from AIDS. The genre spent a decade consciously glamorizing (and aggressively experiencing) faceless sex and copious drug use. It will be interesting to see whether the hesher casualties now start piling up. Meanwhile, I don’t know if Ramone’s death was a metaphor for anything; he’s just a good guy who died on his couch from shooting junk. But as long as you have the right friends, your funeral will always matter a whole lot more.

Long live The Ramones. Long live Ratt n’ Roll. Down with fuckin’ elitism.