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Thoughts on Adam "MCA" Yauch, 1964-2012
Adam King
May 4, 2012
I was 6 years old in 1986 -- when Licensed to Ill came out. I used to steal my brother's cassette and rock it on the little two-tape boombox I had in my room. I used to rock Ill Communication out of it while at house-parties my freshman year of college. I still have that boombox. What I'm trying to say is that life is long. And complicated. And it's incredibly rare to find something that really remains a constant throughout your life -- something that you can always turn to, and even though, like yourself, it has grown and evolved, it still makes you feel that unparalleled joy in the same fashion it did 25 years ago. For me that constant has always been the Beastie Boys. Before I fell for Jerry, before I fell for Phish and Pavement and Built to Spill and Radiohead and all my other favorite bands… I fell for these 3 white Jews who represented everything I thought was cool and right in the world. And c'mon, 2 of the kids are named Adam? When I was younger I always wanted to be AdRock though. He was the hyper punk I thought I could compete with. But MCA was the embodiment of smooth that I knew I could never achieve. He was the voice of this old-soul on a skateboard that just seemed a degree above everything else for me. But shit, as I got older -- it became all about that low knee swagger MCA would drop when his lines would come in. I don't know if he invented that or stole it from somewhere else -- but that is the epitome of honest white boy swag. Honestly, anytime I get on stage to perform, I'm always trying to make sure I look almost as cool as MCA does.

This has been a crazy day for me though. I suppose I shouldn't be so shocked at how sad I am, but sometimes it's wild to see how much people who you've never actually met can influence your life, and your heart, and the person you want to be. God, there's so many dip-shits out there in the music world, and for some reason Adam Yauch has to die at 47? From friggin' cancer? Can't we cure that bullshit by now? It's just another one of those moments of reaching out to all the good people in humanity and saying: Fuck -- man down -- everyone needs to pick up their game. You know? We need more real fucking heroes these days… people who can channel their love and passion for humanity into a medium that can change people's lives. And from the Tibetan Freedom Concerts to his earnest pledges of hope in his sarcastic street-grit lyrics, MCA was one of them.

I've talked to each of the ex-girlfriends today. Any existing bullshit was thrown out the window because each one of those women has heard me rant about the philosophical and existential wonder of the Beastie Boys before. And most of them feel the same way anyway. About how they are a constant force of love and passion, and a sign post that reality is a true place of wonder. We all have different markers of moments in time for us. Some things are huge and unite the whole world, like 9/11 or something. But sometimes, they're one of your favorite musicians dying. But either way they cause you to stop and think about where you are in your life, and how NOW relates to all the other "now's" that have gone by over the years. And sometimes those moments are big enough for the past to cycle back in for that moment. Moments in time when your entire sequential line of reality gets a little balled up, and the pains and joys that have their tangents to that moment all join together in a giant motion of acceptance and release. Sometimes saying goodbye and honoring one of your heroes can be a beautiful thing. And it can make you realize all the hours and years of love that that stranger brought into your life. But most of all, all I want to do today is scream Fuck, and roll a huge one, and play Paul's Boutique at full volume from my car windows.

photo by Phil Andelman Listen: Dana Buoy - "Call to Be" & "So Lucky"
Mike McKinley
May 3, 2012
I've had a few transcendent, life-affirming moments with Akron/Family over the years. They're that kind of band -- they have a language that speaks to me in a profound way.

So, of course, it's always interesting to hear how they're evolving as a band, and now, individually. Akron/Family's percussionist/vocalist Dana Janssen is set to release his first solo record under the alias Dana Buoy. It's called Summer Bodies and it's out May 8th on Lefse Records (pre-order here). It's definitely worth getting into.

Here's "Call to Be" from Summer Bodies.

Dana Buoy - Call to Be by DanaBuoy

And here's another taste of what Dana's been up to, "So Lucky."



Tommy Hamilton on Levon Helm
Mike McKinley
April 24, 2012
Last week when Levon Helm's family sent out word that he was in the final stages in his battle with cancer‚ Tommy Hamilton (American Babies and Brothers Past) reached out and asked if he could write something on him. A few days later we lost the iconic drummer and singer from The Band and host of the Midnight Ramble. It was a sad day for rock 'n' roll. I took respite in exchanging stories with friends‚ and seeing my Facebook feed filled for days with tributes and memories of the man. I felt grateful to be surrounded by so many people that feel so strongly about the power of music. I took my friend Jay's (The Show Sherpa) advice: let's not mourn the loss‚ but celebrate the life. Levon was one-of-a-kind‚ and that smile and sound will never be forgotten.

Here are Tommy's thoughts on Levon.

photos by Andy Hill

April 17th‚ 2012

Most of my early childhood memories revolve around my dad sitting me down and making me listen to music. There was always a specific lesson to be learned. Whether I was getting examples of what a Leslie speaker sounded like from Rick Wright on Pink Floyd's "Eclipse" or what a wah-wah pedal does on Chicago's "25 or 6 to 4‚" it was always for a deliberate reason.

When I was around seven years old and diving heavily into drumming‚ my old man put a VHS tape into our VCR and told me to be quiet‚ watch‚ and listen. I asked‚ "What am I listening for?" looking for some instruction. He just hushed me and pressed play. This was the moment that Levon Helm became a fixture in my life and a standard in my development as a drummer‚ singer‚ artist‚ and adult.

The music was flat out overwhelming‚ and there were (still are) endless lessons to be taken from that movie. The groove was so unique to my ears; the tones were as warm as anything I had heard up to that time. It was all so real. It was all so serious. I was coming from Zeppelin's Lord of the Rings/wearing capes on stage/over-the-top-ness‚ and the Dead's psychedelic leanings. There was nothing mysterious or flamboyant about these songs‚ especially when Levon Helm was delivering it. They were straight up and brutal. They spoke of shit that I couldn't possibly grasp‚ but I knew sincerity when I heard it.

I latched onto Levon like I don't know what. His playing was‚ quite simply‚ incredible. His voice was like a sledgehammer to the chest. But my favorite parts of the film were the interviews. The manner in which he spoke was deliberate and at a steady pace. He was charming in the most honest way and you could tell‚ without a doubt‚ that he respected the craft. He was dignity personified.

Over the next twenty-some years‚ I have seen The Last Waltz quite literally hundreds of times. I've dug deep into The Band's discography‚ as well as other acts' records that Levon played on. I've seen his movies‚ read his book (do yourself a favor and read This Wheel's on Fire immediately)‚ and had the honor of seeing one of his Rambles. Through all of my phases of music‚ either listening or creating‚ I've always come back to Levon as a litmus test for remaining grounded and true. His integrity was and is the standard of which I hold myself and others to.

Today we all learned that Levon is on the wrong side of his lengthy battle with cancer. It's strange to think that as I write this‚ he is breathing his final breaths and making his peace with this life. I've never had the opportunity to meet Levon Helm and thank him for all he's done for me and countless others‚ but I can hope that he moves onward without fear or pain‚ and with the dignity that he has always displayed and inspired in others. Record Store Day: The Exchange Remains the Same
Jim Murray
April 20, 2012
With the annual Record Store Day coming tomorrow (April 21st), Jim Murray shares his thoughts on what's important when it comes to music: there's something in it for all of us.



The Internet has deeply and irreversibly changed the musical landscape for everybody involved -- that's news to no one -- yet with all of the thought and examination that has been paid to the subject, there is definite hypocrisy at play. After all, it is commonplace for us as listeners to sympathize with artists strangled by the explosion of internet piracy in recent years, even as we guiltily race to download the latest leak. But while legislators push for SOPA and PIPA (or some updated versions thereof) and the debate on piracy continues, it's easy to forget about all of the wonderful benefits technology can offer the artist, not only in the ways in which it can disseminate its brand, but also in dictating when and how and what quality of its product reaches the masses. Radiohead, ironically enough a band whose magnum opus lamented the onset of computer revolution, was the first to figure out that running away is pointless, that embracing it can offer the most advantages to the artist: that the "us versus them" mentality founded by earlier artists not only was false, but would be challenged successfully.

Many bands today have likewise realized that an adversarial relationship with its listener does nobody any good. And with the tools now at their disposal, why not get creative? Many have since established an internet presence well above just employing websites, often using social media such as Facebook and Twitter and mediums like YouTube to control the content, quality, and timing of the material they want to release, usually at low cost, sometimes free of charge, and always with the consideration that granting the listener access and choice immediately strengthens and deepens that relationship.

Fan Manager is a digital marketing agency out of California that bridges the gap between artist and audience, namely, in promoting live performance. They utilize the latest social technology and the next generation of marketing tools to help their clients reach their goals. For many artists, it reflects the old adage, "work smarter, not harder." Fan Manager turns core fans into effective brand ambassadors, as volunteers work both online (posting music, tour dates, logos on social media sites) and off (postering in record stores, distributing flyers at shows) in exchange for a ticket or two to the performance. The artist and its organization can concentrate more of its energy on immediate needs while still enjoying robust crowds from the stage. Fan Manager is a hit right now and continues to grow, employing over 100,000 street team members on campaigns for such artists as Depeche Mode, The Crystal Method, Paul Oakenfold, and The Disco Biscuits, among many others. A band will still have to haul the miles, but this way, at least they're not playing to an empty room.

I recently volunteered through Fan Manager to help promote an upcoming Umphrey's McGee show at the House of Blues in Boston. I've done it a handful of times before and always look forward to spreading the word -- hitting up record stores, head shops, pizza joints, college campuses, and local shows -- and usually meet some good people in the process. It brings a certain joy and hopefulness that I can possibly pull in just that one person to their first Umphrey's show, in this case, a band I've grown to appreciate over the years. I suppose it's that primal need for music lovers to pass it forward -- and its miss more often than not -- that's for sure -- but when it hits, well, isn't that what the whole damn thing is about?

Of course, some of the misses can be upsetting, which I found out recently and got me really pontificating on the subject.

Halfway to the goal for this particular promotion, I approached the owner of a record store on the street outside his shop in Providence, hoping he'd pin up an Umphrey's poster for the cause. He grabbed the poster from me, scanned it hastily, and after minimal consideration, offered a casual "Nah," and turned to a companion, indicating my presence there was no longer necessary.

Rarely in my promotional experience do I experience such coolness. I have experienced rejections, but typically only by giants such as Barnes and Noble and FYE, whose denial accords with corporate policy. I don't necessarily agree with that but can certainly understand, and definitely empathize with local employees who must follow code.

But an independent record store? I was crushed. Despite their declining numbers, such stores remain meccas for audiophiles, even in the face of this Internet rampage. There is a spirit in these places, a subversive magic where one can lose time perusing for new gems and finding forgotten treasures -- a place far from relic status yet. As long as there is music playing there will be record stores, however small the scale. They are as important to the exchange of cultural ideas as the café or bookshop. It is a place of dialogue and discovery. While the corporate stores continue to fall flat, the independent record store continues to stand for something special, something that we are losing but desperately need to hold onto as a society. Its survival on some level is beyond important.

Which made it all the more depressing, as I pressed the Providence record store owner on the issue, to hear him respond, "What's in it for me?"

A curator of this wonderful convention he was not.

My heart sank. This place became suddenly unrepresentative of that spirit. There was nothing conversational here -- the windows might as well have already been boarded up, the doors, locked forever. It was clear immediately; there was no use attempting to get through to this guy -- his decision had been made; he was on that side of the fence, and I was not welcome.

Full disclosure, of course, is that I was on the guest list in exchange for my efforts. But I was doing it on my own time, using my own gas money, and the band was of course benefiting from the free marketing.

But incidentally, what was" in it for him" was at least a few minutes of my time, and because I'm a music junkie, most probably a purchase. As it was, I never even made it in the shop.

It is the same attitude that drives the world we live in: the salivation at what we crave, the dwelling upon what's in our interests, the fantasy of what we will reap in the end. It's what damns us; innocence lost. I expect that now -- most everywhere -- but not from music, at least at the independent level. Not from music, which if created, maintained, distributed, and shared the right way-- undoubtedly a monumental task but well worth the effort -- will always remain pure, a means justifying the end.

But this day, in that record store, that owner stole a piece of that optimism from all of us.

It's great to know, at least, that there are Fan Manager's and Umphrey's McGees's and plenty of other bands embracing this spirit of change and progress, working together to maximize the potential and potency of both the listening and live experience. There's much more to debate regarding piracy and control of content, some of it on a much larger level than just copyrights and illegal downloads. And in time, for better or for worse, all of that will sort itself out.

What is most critical to this conversation is that artists, audience, and everyone else involved continue to welcome the opportunities of the digital age. There is no place for tentative or fearful behavior; there is plenty of space to find new ways to connect with one another. No matter the variables, that relationship cannot and will never change.

That record store owner is a setback. Despite his choice and many other similar impediments, it's critically important we keep up the good fight, even as more and more people stray from the mission statement.

That way, we all get something out of it. Listen: Marco Benevento (Featuring Kalmia Traver of Rubblebucket) - "This Is How It Goes"
Mike McKinley
April 19, 2012
In my recent interview with Marco (listen to it here)‚ he told me about writing "This Is How It Goes" as an instrumental‚ and then penning some lyrics for it with his wife. After seeing Kalmia Traver perform at Liberate last summer‚ he asked her to record the vocal track. Here it is. In Marco's words‚ "I'm feeling it man‚ it could be a hit!"

"This Is How It Goes" is available as a limited edition 7-Inch on Record Store Day (April 21‚ 2012) at your favorite independent record stores. Visit Record Store Day...

This Is How It Goes | Marco Benevento (featuring Kalmia Traver of Rubblebucket) by Royal Potato Family

photo by Brent Harrewyn

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