It’s time to stop suing traders (stop the Pirate Bay proceedings post-haste) and recognize that the labels will be saved by the future, which is imminent.

I used to comb Limewire and Rapidshare, adding to my collection of often unlistened to MP3s.  But I’ve just about given up.  It’s just not worth the time.  Not when I’ve got Spotify.

Once again, everything the pundits said was going to be true is.  You don’t fight piracy via lawsuits, you just develop a more enticing business proposition.  ISP fees?  Charging for downloading?  Who is going to bother to take the time to steal when you can listen to whatever you want, instantly?

The biggest mistake the major labels ever made was their refusal to license Napster.  Suing the company was okay, after all, the trading company insisted its service did not infringe copyrights.  Once the court decreed that they did, the labels needed to license Napster. Exact terms of the deal were irrelevant.  Because Napster had a defined lifespan.  Like a Nintendo Game Cube or a PlayStation 2.  In tech world, there are product cycles.  Presently, Apple is on the upswing in the notebook/laptop world.  Will this maintain?

Maybe not if Windows 7 is as good as reviewers say it is.  I’m skeptical, since the operating system is based on the same spaghetti code that was boiled so long ago.  But will Apple continue to rule in the music world?  Questionable!

Let me clarify.  There’s a good chance the iTunes Store could be toast, a veritable sideshow.  Because soon, the majority of people will not own their music, they’ll rent.  And they’ll be happy to do so.  True cheapos will pay in advertising, those with more sense than time will pay.  But nobody will bother paying by track to own in an evanescent format, they’ll just want to stream.

Used to be I lost my connection.  On a regular basis.  That’s a rare event these days.  So, if all my music is dependent on my Internet connection, that’s just about okay with me.  And with Sonos, you get your music straight from the pipe, no computer is necessary.  The songs go straight from your router to your speakers.  Radio and Rhapsody stream this way.

But what truly made Sonos workable was the iPhone/iPod Touch interface.  And what truly makes an ad-supported streaming service viable is the interface of Spotify.  It’s iTunes.  Not on steroids, but just as clean and just about as easy to use.

They tell me you can stream everything on MySpace.  But I can’t find the tracks on MySpace.  The company’s roots, which are based in raping and pillaging for profit, have hindered the enterprise’s development.  There were MP3 players before the iPod, but the iPod got the interface right and killed not only all its predecessors, but all its successors.  Furthermore, Spotify is a separate app, just like the iTunes Store.  So you’re not dependent on a slow-loading, sluggish Web browser.  Functionality is excellent.

So what does all this mean?

Rather than worrying about growing margins at the iTunes Store, blow out all your product for bupkes.  Are you aware of the Creedence Clearwater Revival story?  Greatest hits package selling 75 copies a week moves 20,000 units when the price drops by half.  Price does matter.  To argue about raising prices at the iTunes Store is futile.  I’d say lower them far below 69 cents a track.  Because soon, you’ll barely be able to sell them at all!  Selling MP3s/AACs is like selling cassettes. The lifespan is limited.  I’m giving you a heads-up!  To fret about raising prices and lifting margins is akin to investing in Blockbuster, when what movie rental exists is controlled by Netflix, which delivers the DVD straight to your home or streams the movie to you via your computer.  You don’t want to try and drag people into the past, you want to be one step ahead of them, greeting them in the future!

Load up everyone with files.  Be my guest.  Own the history of recorded music on the equivalent of a wax cylinder.  Because we’re going to sell you everything once again in a better format, the same way the business blew up by getting people to replace LPs with "perfect", indestructible CDs.  CDs still work, but who wants them?

I thought I didn’t need Spotify, I believed I had enough access to music.  But the interface was so good, the availability so perfect, that it’s all I use to listen to music on my computer.  I haven’t stolen a single track since I’ve installed Spotify.  It’s just not worth it!

If you license at the ISP level, are you going to have everyone pay or is it going to be opt-in?  If people pay for music, what about the now-impacted movie business and the publishing business thereafter? How is the money going to be divvied up?  I’m not against ISP licensing, I just think Spotify is a better way.

Apple will have to immediately compete or soon be marginalized. You’ll have to be able to stream everything in the iTunes Store. Apple’s only advantage being portable streaming on the iPhone.

That’s the one missing element, portability.  But the solution is in the offing.

You can’t depend on Universal to come up with a solution.  Nokia Comes With Music?  People pay and they don’t even know the music is included!  Technologists deliver the solutions.  And they only work if licensed by the rights holders.  Swedish techies put up their own millions for Spotify, basing it upon proven P2P technology, and now they’re so far beyond MySpace and iMeem and everybody other than Apple that the labels will soon fear them, just like they’ve made Apple/iTunes their whipping boy.

But the rights holders have the surfboards.  The platforms are just the waves.  Some of them very big, but eventually they crash on shore and dissipate.  Rather than worrying about giving up the gold, just license everybody, because lifespans of platforms are barely longer than those of cell phones.  I mean would you be caught dead using a StarTac today?  Even a Treo?  Two years tops and you’re out, you’ve got to have the new thing, not only for hipness, but because of the new features!  Motorola tanked by depending on the RAZR.  The present iTunes is the RAZR, have no doubt.  As for CDs?  They’re the telegraph.

Don’t debate rental versus ownership.  Just like people rented videotapes back in the eighties, they’ll rent music.  It’s not about philosophy so much as convenience.  DVDs became an ownership item because they were so cheap.  Still, regular viewers consider Netflix a better business proposition.  Then there are others, who don’t pay at all, and just use Hulu.

People want what’s easiest.  They knew that files/online/computer music was much easier than buying and listening to CDs when label majordomos were still having their e-mail printed out by their assistants.  People want all the music all the time for a very low price. They just haven’t been offered it in a palatable, ubiquitous way prior to now.  When Spotify launches in America word will spread faster than news of Facebook’s heinous licensing practices.  Do you want to foresee what’s coming or be caught like a deer in the headlights, like ignorant Mark Zuckerberg?

I’m telling you now.  Streaming on demand is much closer than you think.  Selling digital files, never mind physical media, is on its way out. Clear out your inventory and get ready for the new world!

My car stereo broke.

I was eating dinner at Lisa’s, and when I emerged from her abode I turned on the defroster and I got a readout, both Sirius and XM, but no sound.  As I drove home in the intermittent rain I ran through the possibilities, after stopping and turning both the Alpine and the Saab off and on endlessly, fruitlessly. This had to be the amplifier.  Rather than settle for an Alpine, I’d popped for the exotic Italian amp no one but car stereo geeks had even heard of, the manufacturer of which had probably gone out of business.

After driving home in silence, I pored the Web.  And found out my Audison’s warranty had expired.  I could barely sleep.  My schedule precluded me from showing up at the car stereo shop before early afternoon the following day, would my installer be there, if he removed the amp today would it come back before March?

I parked on the street, the lot being full of machines, and as Robert, my installer, fixed the Sirius in an old school Mercedes-Benz, I fingered the convertible Lamborghini gathering dust.  There may be a recession, but it’s not affecting this emporium, the last of its kind extant in Santa Monica.  With factory-installed stereos so much better than they were in the seventies, the aftermarket has shrunk, all the money for manufacturers is in being the authorized provider.

Turned out I’d blown a fuse.  Hearing this was like getting a birthday present.  Music in my car would continue.  My machine may be cheap, but it’s got a mellifluous sound permeating its tiny environs.  I drive in my cocoon and feel safe from the world.  As I navigate through the hundred plus satellite channels.

And it was only days before that I’d driven to Larry’s Shaver Shop to get new shaving lotion.  My father used an electric razor and he presented me with a Remington as soon as I started to sprout whiskers, I’ve still never used a straight edge.  But without lubrication my skin is strafed like the epidermis of a skateboarder who’s lost his balance and scraped the asphalt.  I used Lectric Shave until the guru at Larry’s told me it was shit and that I needed to use Parks Prep, which wouldn’t clog up my shaver.  He was right.

I’d gone to Larry’s because I needed new blades.  I’ll never do that again.  Only in Santa Monica can you find a retailer who charges more than list price.  I now purchase new cutters via Amazon.  But I still go back to Larry’s for this exotic lotion.  And I’ve learned to pay cash, it earns you a twenty percent discount.

And on this day it’s raining.  And even though I’ve got an umbrella, I want to park close to the shop, so I don’t soak my Nikes in the plethora of puddles which form so rapidly when it rains in SoCal.  And I didn’t find a meter, but around the corner from the Coffee Bean I saw a woman opening the passenger door of her mini-SUV.  Not seeing a driver inside, I decided to wait.  And I was lucky, this caffeinated citizen got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb. And as I navigated my machine into the spot she’d vacated, I heard a lyric:

I’m not a princess
This ain’t a fairy tale
I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet
Lead her up the stairwell
This ain’t Hollywood
This is a small town
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down
Now it’s too late for you and your white horse
To come around

I liked Taylor Swift until her handlers convinced themselves that she was a superstar who was innately-talented and had earned her place atop the hit parade.  The ability of handlers to drink their own kool-aid knows no limits in this business.  You’d think they’d be happy knowing they’re raking in the bucks, but they’ve got to go further than that, they need to convince themselves and everybody they encounter that their charge is the new Beatles, the new Joni Mitchell.

I found Ms. Swift charming at first.  But when they crossed her over to Top Forty and didn’t stop flogging her album, I tuned out.  I didn’t even play her new album.  Her single slid by me, I often punched the button on my radio when it came on.  I didn’t want to encourage them, I didn’t want to help them justify their cause.  Believing their over the top TV productions, with dress changes and waterfalls all in the same song, were cute and acceptable because Taylor was under twenty.  Dignity, hubris, they’ve got no place in teen pop.

But is Taylor Swift really teen pop?  Teen pop is supposed to be laughable and evanescent, easily-dismissed by anybody whose balls have descended or tits have sprouted.  But "Teardrops On My Guitar" was only teenage in its subject matter.  It had the changes and the heart and emotion of a radio staple.  It was the best of both worlds, it was simultaneously catchy and touching.

But the rest of the album was not as listenable.  And usually the rushed out follow-up is substandard, all about paying the executives’ overhead as opposed to satiating the core.  And that’s what the core wants.  Satiation.  The core wants to feel the identification, fans want something that will make them feel included rather than excluded in a nation where no one is ever good-looking or rich enough.  Perez Hilton stands up for the outcasts and then suddenly he switches teams, he’s co-opted by those he’s commenting upon, working for Britney, believing he’s on a par with those he’s disparaging.  We lose our connection with him.  He’s just another tot in Tinseltown trying to make it.  Whereas most of those in the heartland, Hollywood too, are never going to make it.  This is not a dress rehearsal, there is no close-up, this is their life.  And they’re looking to make their lives easier, they’re looking to make sense of the morass.

I opened the door of my car, and then shut it, to prevent the rain from entering.  I had to hear this record, which was quite obviously Taylor Swift, but which I’d never heard before.  On one hand the lyric is cheesy, but we’re all from a small town, where too many people have categorized and classified us, where we’re stuck in a rut of someone else’s device.  And we’re all dreamers.  We believe if we just get our chance we can charm that cutie on the sitcom and our life will work.  And our fan letters never get through, thank god, because if we ever met our heroes we’d find out they’re just as fucked up as we are.

But the actors are empty vessels.

The musicians are their songs.  They’ve had these experiences.  We may not be able to have sex with them, but we feel if we could just talk to them, they’d UNDERSTAND us!

If you’re singing about banging this one and kicking that one to the curb, if you’re exhibiting your glitzy lifestyle and strutting your stuff, we can’t relate, we’re not that fortunate.  But if you tell us you’re confused, if you tell us something about ourselves, we’re enraptured.

I came home and fired up Spotify and listened to "White Horse".  Which, astoundingly, sounded just as good as it did in the car.  And the rest of "Fearless" was a cut above the debut album.  And rather than needing to shut it off, I played it over and over again, even dialing it up in Rhapsody so I could listen via my Sonos system in the kitchen.

And I’ve been chalking up Ms. Swift’s tenure at number one as the last gasp of teen stardom.  But now I’ve changed my opinion.  This is closer to Carole King than Kanye.  This is more like "Tapestry" than not only hip-hop, but "Working On A Dream".

The superstars, Bruce and U2, they’ve lost touch with themselves.  They’re playing to the last row.  And we can’t even get a seat in the building.  We want something we can play over and over on our iPods, we don’t care if it’s played on the radio, it’s only important that it touch our hearts.

How come Nashville can get it so right and the rest of the business so wrong?  I’m not sure exactly who composes Ms. Swift’s material, I hear she doesn’t write alone, but the result is songs, with melodies and changes that you can sing along with.  This is not rocket science.  While the household name purveyors are trying to create dazzling extravaganzas, while the alternative rockers are concocting screechy tracks with lame vocals that are barely more than demos, Taylor Swift concocts a very basic record that is burning up the chart, that has already sold 2,600,000 copies even though it’s only been in release for 14 weeks.

Cause I’m not your princess
This ain’t a fairy tale
I’m gonna find someone, someday
Who might actually treat me well
This is a big world
That was a small town
There in my rearview mirror
Disappearing now
And it’s too late for you and your white horse
Now its too late for you and your white horse
To catch me now

We’re dreamers.  Despite being bruised and battered, we do our best to rekindle hope.  We believe we can escape to a better life.  Not one where we drive a Bentley and party with Paris, but where we have a roof over our heads and have the mutual respect of a loved one, all the while able to pay our bills.

Now, more than ever in our lives, the underpinnings are shaky.  There might not be a job to work hard in, keeping what money you’ve got in the bank is a losing proposition, but putting it in the market is too big a risk.  Still, if someone with heart and desire can break through, we’re encouraged.  We want to hear that person’s story, unfiltered.  We want the unvarnished truth, we’ve been sold bullshit for too long, we want warmth, but not darkness.

I left the east coast and everything it stands for.  I’m living in a place where no one ever asks what college I went to, never mind my SAT scores.  I didn’t consciously want to reinvent myself, but I liked the opportunity to start over, sans the burden of the preconceptions of those I went to school with.  I haven’t struck it rich and famous.  And now I’m wavering, the economic chaos impacting my ability to have hope.  But when I’m driving in my car and the right record comes pouring out of the speakers, I feel confident, I believe I can make it.

And too often it’s an oldie, reminding me of what once was as opposed to what still can be.  But when I heard the production of this adolescent, I was touched the same way I was in my dorm room back in Middlebury, when those Wendy Waldman and Jackson Browne records gave me the strength to pack up and drive across this great country of ours to start over.

There is no princess, there is no white horse, fame doesn’t equate with riches and the mainstream media can get it just as wrong as the titans of Wall Street who wrecked our financial system.  There are no short cuts, only hard work and perseverance.  And what allows us to keep on keepin’ on, what soothes us and prepares us for battle, is almost always music.  Listening to Taylor Swift’s "White Horse" I’m reminded of this, I’ve got hope.

Sorry about overloading your inbox, this is probably better for the Twitter feed I don’t have (be sure to read David Pogue’s Twitter essay here:

Twitter? It’s What You Make It

but in these hazy, crazy, bizarre days of economic mayhem, I just had to pass along this link.

You won’t get it at first.  But stick with it.  I’m laughing just thinking about it.

I’m sitting here listening to outtakes from Steely Dan’s "Royal Scam" reading hundreds of e-mails.

I’d like to thank the community for turning me on to a brilliant track, the Ricky Skaggs/Ashley Monroe version of the Raconteurs’ "Old Enough".  You can hear it here:

The Raconteurs – Old Enough

and if you’re truly interested in the backstory, you can check it out here:

The Raconteurs and Ashley Monroe Break Down “Old Enough”

I could rant on about Web 2.0, network effects, but this is the advantage of the Net, you can get consensus, you can get turned on to things almost instantly.

Speaking of consensus…  Yesterday I was hipped by two readers to discount pricing at Mammoth Mountain.  There was a town meeting in Mammoth Lakes, wherein the CEO of the ski resort, Rusty Gregory laid out the issues facing the area

Gregory and the “New Paradigm”

But what is even more fascinating is Mr. Gregory’s participation on the Mammoth boards.  It’s as if Jimmy Iovine started posting comments on Perez Hilton or the Velvet Rope.

It’s fascinating.  No PR person vetted Mr. Gregory’s comments.  So when someone is stupid, he calls them out on their stupidity.  He takes no guff.  And in addition to clarifying, explaining the truth behind the rumors and laying out future business practices, he interacts nicely with those who are civil to him.  It’s positively revolutionary.

At first the record labels hid behind Hilary Rosen.  The same way the acts now hide behind Ticketmaster.  Let them take the guff, we’re innocent.  But now the labels are a shadow of their former selves.  Having fought "piracy" for a decade, they’ve become marginalized, with touring revenues now the key to fattening your wallet.  Doug Morris waded into cyberspace, granting an interview to "Wired", but after appearing a buffoon, stating Universal didn’t know where to look to for Internet advice, Doug has gone back into his hole, counting his millions.

What about Warner’s YouTube policy?  Wherein acts signed to the label can’t even link to their own videos?  Who was responsible for this decision?  Can this faceless bastard come out of hiding and explain himself online?  Just maybe, he’ll sway the public, the same way Rusty Gregory has made fans.  You can’t convince everybody, ten percent of the audience will never pay, will never be reasonable, but most people are open to being educated.

Give Irving Azoff props, at least he responded to Bruce Springsteen’s concerns.  Whereas in the past, there might be a statement from some unknown press agent days later.  Do you believe Irving?  You can make up your own mind.  But at least he stepped up to the plate.

Steve Jobs went online and explained why variable pricing was sheer greed and DRM had to go.  There are legendary stories of people e-mailing him and getting a response.  But how would you reach Rob Stringer?  Never mind Lyor Cohen.  These people are living their private lives inside walled gardens.  And if you think it’s working for them, you’re delusional.

The labels have done their best to alienate their customers for a decade.  And they show no effort to contradict this behavior.

What people want is access.  They want an explanation.  They want honesty.  They want truth.  What is preventing the RIAA from creating an open forum, wherein questions are answered by the heads of the labels themselves, unfiltered? Hell, Rick Rubin just has to drop in somewhere and the word will be Twittered instantly, and the public will show up.

But the public doesn’t have a problem with Rick Rubin.  That’s just an inside story, people willing Sony Music to fail.  But they do have a problem with each and every record label in general.  And the publishing companies.  And the corporate PR people advising these institutions tell them to choose their words wisely, if they speak at all.

Like I said, this obviously isn’t working.  The public hates the labels and their business is declining.  Time to come out of the bunker.  Time to speak your truth.

Then again, is the truth that you’re overpaid and riding the CD wave to the end and then headed for retirement?  No wonder you don’t want to venture into the agora.  But the business will survive you.  Someone’s got to come out of the woodwork and explain what’s going on.  Someone with a name, that we recognize.

Sure, the Web is vicious.  But that’s where public discourse takes place.  Not in the "New York Times" or the "Wall Street Journal", but on FaceBook and message boards.

I’m calling you out.  Who’s going on record first?  Really, it should be you Jimmy.  You say you’re the artist’s friend, you say you’re open to new ideas.  Can you come out of hiding and explain yourself?  Answer questions, tell us what the fuck is going on?

Mammoth thread: Gregory to Speak and Take Questions at Town Council Meeting

Rusty Gregory’s handle is "Rusty".  You can start reading his comments/responses towards the bottom of the first page, his first post being on Thursday Feb. 12, 2009 at 8:57 PM.  He joined earlier that day, at 9:57 am, under his real name. Those with balls don’t need to hide, they’ve got the truth on their side.