Crow’s Nest 35: 070322
Oh god I have to go back into the office on Tuesday
Hey there and welcome to issue #35 of Crow’s Nest. Yes it’s a holiday weekend here in the states, the world’s on fire etc. and I’m keeping myself occupied by writing my little thoughts down about music. So it goes. If you’re reading this I appreciate you for taking the time to do so. Just have this open in a browser tab while working and have fun outside otherwise, I guess.
Before we get into the digital meat of this issue, we’ve got another class action settlement open to all Americans this time:
A couple weeks ago I was at the Empty Bottle here in Chicago for a show by Montreal electronic duo Blue Hawaii. While I’m not super enthusiastic about them, I enjoyed the last time they were in town a few years ago, didn’t have anything else up that Friday, and member Raphaelle Sandell-Preston’s other project Braids holds a special place in my heart. During local opener Lipsticism’s set, the crowd was largely talking over her even though they seemed into her music. A throwaway comment from one of them, ostensibly in praise of her, has stuck with me:
“If they were on Spotify, I would listen to them.”
I left my spot near that group shortly after as they were pissing me off and I wanted another drink, but I have been fascinated by the implications of the remark since. It’s not novel to think, a decade+ into Web 2.0, that digitally mediated relationships, whether parasocial or rooted in some physical interpersonal connection, are as legitimate if not more ‘real’ than others. Still, the implication that, somehow, an artist performing onstage in a reputable music venue feet from you in real life is validated not by this activity, but by having a presence within one online portal, feels disconcerting. For this person, the virtual has become more real than the physical.
The only on Spotify qualifier of the comment is also concerning to me, on multiple levels. I am well aware my own listening patterns are habituated by Spotify. The majority of my home listening occurs through streamed Bandcamp links on my laptop, a habit I’ve cultivated within myself. Yet the Spotify app has a permanent spot in my dock, and the temptation to prune my open browser tabs remains ever present. I’ve succumbed to the convenience of not needing to manage an mp3 library on my laptop and a corresponding portable device (RIP 256GB iPod Classic 2012-2017) in favor of streaming Spotify on my phone, and when I want to listen to something not available there (like Vision 3D’s Hypnose) on the go, it does feel cumbersome to switch to the Bandcamp app for that.
Forcing myself to listen in this manner places me within a music-listening minority, no doubt. You might be within this minority too. I’d like to think that you, someone reading this music-focused newsletter with an audience of tens of readers, are likely to fall into the camp of more attentive listening and consideration to music that such a subscription implies, but while writing this I realized that that assumption might not hold up as well as I (and you) might like. (I try not to monitor my Substack stats too closely—therein lies a route to madness—but I can know who you are in terms of my readership.)
For example, you probably think I own a turntable and, at minimum, one Ikea Kallax stuffed with LPs. I don’t; I didn’t have the finances that I felt could justify such a hobby until I landed a stable office job in my mid-20s and, even then, I had been conscious about my consumption such that I could hardly ever justify buying a record—more stuff—that I may not like or listen to frequently when that slab of wax could wind up in the hands of a more appreciative collector. Sure, music may sound warmer and subjectively better through a turntable, but does that justify the increased cost of owning it on vinyl? Would I be better off flipping the monetarily valuable ones instead of keeping them and spinning them every now and again? What even does a fellow concert attendee like the one above think about physical media for music, if they do, beyond the shiny objects at the merch table? (Placemats, potentially.)
That record-buying fandom mentality, economically, is itself a bit illusory; my understanding is something like 80% of new vinyl records don’t get played more than once or twice, if ever. For every ‘head’ carefully curating their collection and listening attentively to the details of their treasures—who we tend to think of as the platonic ideal of a home listener—there’s another customer yelling at the retailer about how surface noise and other physical differences in the audio compared to digital is making the record sound ‘wrong’ to them. Most people buying records are really purchasing boutique paper-and-plastic posters signaling fandom and throwing the artist some scratch.
Scott at Pinwheel Records, while helping my brother and I sort out what could be done with my late uncle’s voluminous media collection last year, remarked that he’d love to always have a decent used copy of Rumours on display in his shop. While he does cater to the heads out there—ask my brother, for example, about his copy of Without a Net—it is the casual consumers making one-off purchases of ‘Target-core’ records who keep the lights on as much as the heads, to say nothing of those who use Discogs like Amazon and undercut independent shops’ sales.
(For accountability’s sake, I usually buy a couple hundred dollars of records each month through Bandcamp, mostly digital—peep my collection here if you’d like.)
For millions of other music consumers out there, though, Spotify is the music app. It’s where you go to listen to music. If it’s not on Spotify or, perhaps, does not get radio airplay depending on their car listening habits, that music effectively does not exist for these people. If it takes more than running a search or two in the habituated place for music—even if that’s just searching for a fucking Youtube video instead—the effort and disruption to their flow is simply not worth it, even if you like the music and would like to listen to or support it. People legitimately fume and rage at artists who take their music off Spotify at the inconvenience it causes them, and exploit user upload features to put works withheld from the service onto it against the artists’ wishes, just so they don’t have to leave the app to listen to it. I hate to say it but if you think any of that is strange, you are likely in the minority position.
Economically, this is the monstrous challenge working artists face today. Let’s make the enormous presumption that 100% of Spotify’s $.0030/stream rate goes directly to one, singular artist. For an artist to make even $1 at that rate, that’s 334 streams. As a solo listener attempting that, you’d be fucking sick of the track long before the artist sees more money from streaming than the equivalent $0.99 digital purchase, I don’t care how much you like that one song. Assuming the song is 3.5 minutes long, you need to spend 19.5 hours listening to it continuously to pay that one artist their one dollar. Streaming is a loss leader that many artists are expected to also, somehow, rely on as a primary source of revenue; if it were a restaurant it would close before anyone stopped calling it new. The (time-)scale involved to properly compensate artists through Spotify streaming compared to direct sales is simply economically unfeasible. That’s part of the reason why I embed music into Crow’s Nest through Bandcamp, to hopefully incentivize readers into economically supporting the artists within in a meaningful way.
If I pointed the above out to your average (paying) Spotify user, I imagine they might concede that, yes, their $10/month subscription probably isn’t really enriching the artists they listen to. They’d probably respond with a line about the scale of listening making up for that, and I probably wouldn’t be articulate enough in real time to counter with the above paragraph, or that there probably aren’t enough $10 a months out there to make adequate compensation a fiscal reality for all. They might also note that, well, even if they’re only sending the artist crumbs, at least they are giving the artist crumbs, and they should be grateful for that. I hope I don’t need to point out how insulting and offensive this is to say to someone who makes their living to some degree through their art, especially if you were speaking to such an artist face-to-face, if you thought of that person in front of you as a person and not just some abstract presence potentially legitimized from within your phone.
All of that is to say, if you like music or other art, materially support them, especially if they cannot recuperate their investment into their work through scaled streaming revenue. It might be inconvenient to buy some merch you don’t fully like, a record you may not spin, mp3s that take up space on your device(s), or even—gasp—go to a different location within your phone to access their work, but if you like said work or appreciate its impact on you, such effort ought to be worth it. Whether irl or virtually, however you experience art, at the end of the line there is (usually) someone or some people behind the work who brought it into being, and they deserve to be treated with a basic-level humane respect and adequate compensation for doing so. We can debate to what degree an artist ought to be able to live on their work as a baseline level; at minimum, they deserve that equal to what every other human being in the world ought to have.
If you’re on board with, at least, the fiscal notion I’ve outlined above, and are wondering what to spend some artist-supporting money on … check out my most recent set of highlights below.
L.A. minimal wave trio Automatic return with their second album on Stones Throw. The synth/bass/drums setup, ‘The White Stripes as femmes fatales’ visual aesthetic and revulsion to capitalism (while nevertheless resigned to live within it) remain while getting more refined. Slower with a weaker sense of propulsion than debut Signal, the group makes the resulting extra space work in their favor: drummer Lola Dompé has room to get loose in the pocket, magically landing on the beat every time to my surprise, while lead vocalist Izzy Glaudini conjures up some of the weirdest synth sounds I’ve heard from a nominally alternate rock band. You may not hear this stuff over the venue p.a. between sets this time but their work remains a rewarding, off-kilter spin.
The Primordial Void label has always felt a bit of an internet-native, placeless outpost. I had thought it operated out of the northern Central Valley but it’s (now?) based in Athens, Georgia, which both does and doesn’t make sense. Anyway, their latest release, Dividers’ Crime of Passion—not to be confused with Crime of Passing’s recent self-titled—is an experimental country album that’s a bit out of left field for my usual tastes but nonetheless a phenomenal suite of hard-living Americana. I lack the knowledge of country artists and singer-songwriters to know relevant comparisons in the field … imagine Grouper going alt-country, early Woods getting dubbier, hell, even an OG Jamaican dub producer operating out of a rural (tobacco) smoke-filled saloon backroom. I’ve never considered myself one to patronize the Hideout’s country shows but when these guys show up for Cosmic Country, I’ll be there.
Solid records don’t necessarily need to reinvent the wheel or get anywhere near the term ‘innovative’ to be worth your time. Where Italy’s Big Cream fall on that divide depends on how you view the saxophone’s presence within indie rock. A muscular 90s-sounding album with strong post-punk and motorik elements, you have to know I would like this one, and the intriguing piece of their worn-in formula here is Jacopo Finelli's wailing. It doesn’t feel grafted on or an accent to the rest of the band, but rather an integral piece helping to keep everything together like the bass or rhythm guitar. Currently the record has like half a dozen patrons across 2 Bandcamp links which, while I try to avoid thinking about records remuneratively, feels like a massive shame given its quality.
Here are my recent reading highlights:
The Honest Broker examines the ‘long tail’ theory of the internet and explains how, in fact, its premise was a mirage as corporate America continued consolidating its dominance with the information superhighway.
Fingers, Dave Infante’s newsletter on drinking in America, examines the saga of Modern Times Beer’s crowdfunding faceplant through an unusual lens: the crowdfunding site’s comments section. (It’s paywalled but drop me a message and I’ll forward it to you.)
From The New Yorker:
Louis Menand examines the artistic career of Yoko Ono, making the case that her entanglement with John Lennon proved negative for her work as a whole.
Stephania Taladrid tells the story of the strain it took one working class Texas family to obtain an abortion for their 13-year old daughter post-‘heartbeat’ bill. This came out before the Dobbs decision but you can no doubt discern how much more common, tragically, situations like this are now and will be for those able to access reproductive healthcare out-of-state.
Ed Caesar profiles one Ukrainian family impacted by the war on Ukraine, many of the members of varying allegiances settling in Germany for the time being.
Andrew Marantz looks at Orbánism and American conservatives’ intellectual romance with the modern Hungarian state. Like Taladrid’s article above parts of this already feel a bit out of date given the advances Christofascism has made even in the past few weeks with America, but it’s still worth a read for what might be coming. Tibor Dessewffy’s comments within are going to stay with me for a while, no doubt.
Techno mainstay Levon Vincent maintains a steady drip feed of functional to phenomenal work, though his latest album Silent Cities moves away from the dance floor. Inspired by just intonation, his own heart rate for tempos and multiple sorts of minimalism, the record is a patient listen, neither ambient nor a pandemic inspired one despite the implications of the title. A perfect record for slowing down, taking up space and time, and reflection of varying sorts.
Pretty much every work day I get at least 1 email from the garage-centric Shall Not Fade label family out of Bristol. It’s enough to exhaust even the most completionist listener; I don’t know how they can handle such an output, and I find myself frequently wondering why I don’t hit the unsubscribe buttons. That’s due to the occasional standouts like this EP. Ignore the Earth Trax remix, Viggo Dyst’s originals here are stellar electronic pieces worth of your attention. One of these is a reimagining of Chic’s Le Freak, I think? Great senses of melody and backing drones within.
British producer pq has been instrumental in bridging the UK and East African undergrounds. In addition to helping run Crow’s Nest fav Spooky Shit and his own releases, he teamed up with Nyege Nyege Tapes and fellow Spooky Shit head Spooky-J to form Nihiloxica with a group of Bugandan drummers. His latest release, on Catalonia’s Lapsus Records, is named after the body’s sense of itself which allows for balance, motion and more—one of the aspects of the body that many would argue constitutes a sense in addition to sight, smell etc. A solid set of experimental dance numbers within which, if I finish up the rest of this issue before heading out for poker tonight, I’ll try explaining in further detail.
The dance music internet loves a good British production duo. Something about a pair of buddies cranking out the tunes—Overmono, Bicep (ok they’re Northern Irish), OGs Autechre—is ample joke and meme fodder for the Too Online folks. The pseudonymous Two Shell are the latest to surf this clout wave, moving from a respectable Livity Sound roster presence on to a tear requiring dedicated forum regulars to keep track on their catalog, raising questions like ‘What if Aphex Twin was a gamer?’ along the way. Fortunately, their most recent item Icons infuses hyperpop sensibilities into the bass-techno underground standardbearing template, with a strong melodic sensibility definitely worth keeping an ear on. When the tunes are this good and, especially, fun in a way plenty of others are not, who strongly cares about the names behind the sound or whether the two playing their Primavera set are the same pair in the studio?
If you ever wonder how I manage to keep track of so much music and information about the acts I write about, well, I don’t. Something comes onto my radar, eventually I listen to it, later if I recall the details of a solid spin or two, it can wind up in here. Other data I outsource to the computer in varying spots in a semi-organized manner. I don’t exactly recall what this deluxe reissue of Lucie Antunes’s 2019 debut sounds like, but InFiné is a solid label, the few spins I played of it were decent, and I respect the decision to put the bonus live tracks before the main album on this piece. Sound off in the comments if you would like to take a stab at describing this, I guess. (Update: got to this and it’s Bonobo-ish minimalist electronic with post-rock elements to it, in my estimation.)
Much was made recently of Paul McCartney’s headlining appearance at Glastonbury at 80 years old. Much less has been made, unfortunately, of fellow 80-year old Arthur Brown, whose most recent album, a solo record with longtime collaborator Rik Patten, came out the day before Macca’s appearance. 5 decades+ on from “Fire", Brown still can sing like few others and assemble an excellent-sounding array of psychedelic blues numbers in a reflective, existential mood that wouldn’t be your first impression of the God of Hellfire. Another act I’m regretting skipping seeing at Le Guess Who? in 2015 at this point. Just my opinion but it sure seems like Brown’s recent work feels more relevant to the current day than the Beatle, and perhaps Paul could continue to look to Arthur for inspiration, like on some of the heavier takes of Helter Skelter.
If the library jazz/funk records that accumulated during the 70s didn’t necessarily have the afterlife they intended as hip-hop producers scoured the archives for sample fodder, it remains a healthy source of inspiration. The Natural Yogurt Band, named like a jam band that’s less fun to say than to watch, take this legacy and update it with contemporary production work on their second LP of this year (so far). They sound a bit like Sault did on their 2019 albums while missing the overt politics of their fellow Brits. Good music for an evening in when the light from a joint shines brighter than the electric fixtures.
It’s always humbling to know that, however long I feel I’ve been listening to music, however much I’ve listened to, how much more music is out there to listen to, etc. there’s always even more to dig into, people and institutions who’ve been doing it for longer … always more. Case in point: Peru’s Superspace Records, who came onto my radar perhaps 2 years ago, have released volume 4 of their Izados compilation series after a decade long break. Talk about commitment. This release leans ethereal, longform ambient, the shortest piece being only just under 9 minutes long. Given I mostly enjoyed these works under the influence of weed I’m hesitant to attempt a joke about them resisting the imperialism of western music release structures … regardless it’s all well worth a session or two of any kind to listen to these South American artists work their magic.
An alias like Tekhnoprana sure suggests some producer operating out in post-Soviet eastern Europe, as does the cover art giving ‘Brandenburg Gate as the entrance to Hades’, but New York Haunted’s release notes assert this as the work of Brazilian guitarist/producer Marcel Rocha. Again, a few spins during the workday sold me on it as a whole if not the details … the first few tracks were meh and then the abstraction and weirdness scale up as it continues, moving into intriguing post-vaporwave areas. Give it a spin and hear for yourself.
Alright as I do have plans this evening I am going to call it … well now regular time in my Sunday on this one. 3,000+ words for one issue is enough even if the essay was mostly pre-written earlier. As always, thank you for reading Crow’s Nest if you’ve gotten to this point, I hope you found something within you enjoy. Again, the world constantly feels like hell and spending all day online exacerbates this. Go outside, do something with or for the people in your life you treasure, make plans, make new friends, enjoy things when you can. It’s the least you can do to try to stay sane with the world as it is. Until next time, take care.
Not for nothing, but Crime of Passing's record is fantastic. Automatic's "Excess" has been on repeat here all day, so thank you for getting that on my radar!