From my cursory glance, this musician’s royalty calculator seems to be about right on. Good job, moses.
Calculate how screwed your band is.
Looking at this reminds me of when a band I was in got signed to a small label. And then I think about this silly band that our label signed right after us. I remember thinking they really sucked. They were called Limp Bizkit. And now I reflect on the fact that the silly trust-fund kid who owned the label is now the president of Interscope thanks to his “brilliance” in signing Limp Bizkit. The music industry is a weirdo business.
Oh. My. God.
If you didn’t have a reason to hate the man before. Please hate him for this.
I saw this on a poster yesterday advertising upcoming shows at a local rock club:
Friday, Dec. 7th
Forever (final show)
Wayne Coyne is my hero. He never ceases to amaze me with his creative output. The guy never, ever stops thinking up crazy ideas. The great thing about Wayne, though, is that he actually does them! Well, he and his band, The Flaming Lips, are finishing up their follow-up to the (amazing) Soft Bulletin and, in the meantime, they are also making a feature-length film called Xmas on Mars.
Just another day in the life for good ol’ Wayne. Long live Wayne!
I don’t know how this whole Afghanistan thing is going to play out, but these kinds of things make me smile:
In Fallen Taliban City, a Busy, Busy Barber: “Within hours of the Taliban retreat, Habibullah opened the box, and today the music played so loud that his voice was barely audible. “I haven’t listened to music in two years,” he said, sitting cross-legged on a pillow. “It’s nice.””
Further evidence that the end of the world is near: Erin and I are going to see Jimmy Buffett in concert tonight. Now, don’t get all uptight just yet. We’re only going so we can see someone we met on our honeymoon who happens to be the costume coordinator for many different musicians, Mr. Buffett being one. For some reason, I’m sort of excited to be going so I can laugh at all of the morons in stupid shirts. Think of it as a sociological study. Besides, we get to go to a pre-show party backstage with free food and (I’m sure) fruity drinks with rum in them. Speaking of rows of tables filled with food: When I first wrote “Jimmy Buffett” on this post, I misspelled his name to read, “Jimmy Buffet”. That was amusing to me, thinking of a long line of Jimmy that you can help yourself to.
One more brief aside about Jimmy Buffett, then I’ll move on. A band I used to be in was doing a sound check many years ago and, for some reason, the bar had let some people in a bit early and they were priveleged to see us check our instruments on stage. Well, they were big assholes. They were rowdy and drunk and heckled us as they sipped on their Miller Lite©. As it turns out, they really weren’t indie rock fans, just Jimmy Buffett fans that had wandered in to the nearest bar before they headed off to Margaritaville. I’m going to try and hunt them down tonight and make them pay.
Wish me luck.
The worst news I’ve heard in a few weeks:
Celine Dion To Sing For Relief Efforts
“The world is coming to an end. We lost our record deal. And I couldn’t be having a better time.”
–Jeff Tweedy (last night)