Crowdsourcing the Tears for Fears Covers

Perhaps because they came at the expense of some of the writing I really should be doing instead, I was wondering somewhat about the wisdom of my dual music-related maunderings over the weekend -- James Murphy here, Ted Leo here. And I guess I sort of still am, given that I don't really want to be a music critic and am under no illusions in re: my qualifications for that gig -- it was not always thus, but at some point certain things have to fall away/be dropped -- and yet spent some time kind of wandering the edges of that territory. The question was how to get back on track.

You'd think the answer would involve actually doing some of the writing I'm supposed to do. This post should serve as proof that I've rejected that shortsighted course of action, and instead opted to do my best to listen to various Ted Leo albums again (while doing other things, because I'm not that serious about this sort of thing). It's just easier than finishing a novel, you know? Like, a lot easier? Because you're feeling a faintly meh-type feeling instead of excruciating anxiety and self-doubt? So easier in that regard. But also illuminating, in the sense that it confirmed the ambivalence I described in my previous post. It is suddenly occurring to me that I'm not sure ambivalence is the sort of thing that can be confirmed. Let's just get on to the next paragraph.

An email from the very intelligent and much more musically accomplished Jeff Ciprioni helped put this in perspective -- where I would have said that the records just didn't sound that good and were kind of monochromatic and dullish, Jeff heard not-that-great production. Which is actually a very good call. "They have the sound of being recorded cheaply and quickly, without any of the inventiveness of randomly pleasing 'mistakes' of the lo-fi records we know and love," Jeff writes, and I think that's right-on enough for me to risk the gray ethics of quoting from a personal email. Jeff's suggestion that Ted (or Matador) pay up for a record with Steve Albini is also just a really excellent idea: the band is so good (thus the excellent live experiences and the fucking awesome Tears for Fears cover above) that it's really ridiculous how many albums -- three, that I listened to -- they've managed to sound flat and unremarkable on. As someone who knows very little about how music gets made -- I think of it as delicious sausage for my ears! -- it's not surprising that I'd overlook the production thing.

See, situations like this are why Wired keeps telling me that crowdsourcing is going to cure the nation's economic woes, climate change and sleep apnea -- all these minds out there, just thinking and doing things. How couldn't it lead to a solution for global warming, when it so easily and swiftly identified why Ted Leo's studio albums are dull? Harness the power of the Internet, America. Harness the power!

But Mid-List Authors Don't Have Groupies, Right?

You know something about Bloomfield, New Jersey that I unambiguously and unambivalently think is the shit? The (apparently now-closed) Short Stop Diner. I like the extra definite article in "Eggs in the Skillet" and I liked the actual eggs in the actual (tiny) skillets and... yeah, it was good and important to me, that frankly crappy diner. It gets a shout-out in my (actually being worked-on, again) novel, which I'm sure will help it turn back the clock like 30 or so years and become a viable concern again. But the skillets... I liked the little skillets. Related: I apparently hate my body's digestive system? It surprised me, too, but the evidence is right there.

You know what I do not unambiguously or unambivalently like about Bloomfield, New Jersey? Ted Leo, with or without Pharmacists. This has always been tough for me, because I feel like I would actually really like Ted Leo were I to meet or talk to the dude. And not just because he's from Bloomfield, or named a pretty song after New Jersey's state bird, or anything like that. I like some of his songs a lot, and have always enjoyed seeing him live -- two or three times, but that's a goodly number of times to be fun to watch, given that I'm not a super-fan -- but his records just do not get listened to. For awhile, I dutifully bought them anyway: there was some great political power-pop in there! Songs I could believe in and conceivably rock out to! Might well be true, still, although I honestly couldn't tell you, since I do not listen to those records. This is true, too, of the recent "The Brutalist Bricks," which I (ugh) didn't even pay for and still haven't made it all the way through. There's either something wrong with me or there isn't. It's not like I don't agree with Ted that George W. Bush was one of history's all-time Godfather Nightmare Dickweeds, but I'm not sure I can really listen to a whole album (or two) reiterating that. Power chords be damned, and I don't damn power chords lightly.

But what's missing in his songs -- or missing in them for me, at least -- is very much there in Leo's interviews. Via this characteristically strong Village Voice piece from Maura Johnston -- about the ultra-uninformative way in which the pop charts are written about and (not) understood -- comes this very interesting, very smart interview Garden State Ted did with the Voice about the life of the mid-list indie musician.

This is especially interesting to me because I basically aspire to the life of the mid-list author of literary fiction as a best-case scenario, and yet have always looked at musicians -- who do something like what I do, kind of, but do it in front of actual people and get to look cooler for doing it and presumably enjoy more Sex Opportunities for all that -- as existing in a different realm. All that cash money from live shows and the Seeing The Country/World and all those -- appetizing? are they still supposed to be appetizing when you're in your 30s? -- make-out seshes back at the La Quinta Inn... what could there be that's lame about that? Except for being basically as broke as I am while displacing a much larger carbon footprint while "making it" to a much greater degree than I? Ted, what up?

How close were you to calling it quits?

I've never been close to calling it quits. I think that the point was maybe a little bit overstated on my part. The point I was trying to make was that the reality of the financial situation, being a musician full time as I've been, is really that touch and go. No pun intended. I've been doing this over 20 years and I'm unable to tour in the kind of comfort that I think allows rock stars to do, like, year-long world wide tours, you know, and it's a grind. It's a great thing to do, there's no question that in one sense it's the best job you can possibly have. But in another sense, it's gotta have a time-stamp on it. I'm already about to enter the first tour on this new record just dead. I'm exhausted from all the work I've been doing, it's just not healthy. And it's not sustainable at that level. And when things are going well, financially, it's more standable than not.

But it's really like a razor's edge that we walk, everyday. This is not meant disparagingly in any way--it's the nature of the beast--but you know the public can be fickle, and we already don't sell that many records. If that took even a minor dip, it would have to be a hobby band for us again, instead of a life...

Do things even really flop anymore, because it's hard to tell with the way sales are. Nothing sells very much. What would a flop be--bad reviews or something?

No, a flop would be... at the level that I'm at, it's like this weird middle-class of musicians. So when you're selling, say, a relatively small number--less than 5,000 or something--you're not living your life around your music at that point. And I can say that from experience, because I spent the first 15 years of my music-playing life doing much less than that. But it starts to become this potentially self-sustainable thing when you get into the next bracket, which is a sales bracket in which you're not like putting money in the bank, you're not buying new cars or houses or anything, but you're covering the expenses of doing what you do. So it becomes a non-losing proposition at that point, which opens up the door for the possibility of it becoming an actual viable job and life. And then just like with the other actual wage earners in other areas of America, it's not until you really leapfrog into the 99th percentile that you actually start earning serious money. For the rest of the lower-middle class of people who are where I'm at, record sales actually still matter quite a bit, because again it's the difference between it being a self-sustaining thing or not.

Read it. It's illuminating and amusing and he comes off really interesting and well. Maybe I just like this dude better in print.