Is there any other high level Sports Commissioner who has failed more then Mr Bettman? Why does he even want the job? It is so apparent that he doesn't follow the sport or has any knowledge of it. Must be that there are no other high-paying jobs left for him to move on to. At this point we can only blame David Stern. His lack of intelligence, sports acumen or even love of the sport shows up ten feet before he ever enters the room. Between the Coyotes and the wonderful salary cap alone, he makes Isiah Thomas's reign as the Commissioner of the CBA seem a success....

Please read the Toronto Sun column on the Coyotes.


Bettman's bid to save Coyotes is misguided
By GARY LOEWEN
In envisioning long-term NHL success in the Sun Belt, Gary Bettman may be wearing rose-coloured glasses.
Or maybe he just has a nasty case of pink eye.
But clearly the NHL commissioner's efforts to keep the Phoenix Coyotes in the desert are misguided.
Bettman long ago should have faced up to the lack of interest in non-traditional hockey markets such as Arizona and taken steps toward NHL contraction.
When it became clear that Coyotes owner Jerry Moyes wasn't interested in continuing to lose millions of dollars trying to make ice in the desert, the franchise ought to have been folded, the players put into a dispersal
draft.
By acting promptly, Bettman could have avoided the embarrassing squabble with Jim Balsillie.
Instead of Duel in the Desert, we would have had Defunct in the Desert -- a move most hockey fans surely would have supported.
But Bettman opted to go into denial mode.
As recently as three months ago, the commish said there were four ownership groups interested in keeping the Coyotes in Arizona.
Today, there is not one investor in sight willing to step up to that challenge.
Bettman wants the NHL to buy the team for the short-term, and during the next year he would undertake the search for a permanent owner.
Sounds like the O.J. Simpson saga all over again.
The NHL needs to accept that hockey hasn't taken root in the deep south. Along with the Coyotes, the NHL could deep-six the bulk of the Southeast Division and few fans would weep.
The league would be stronger, and more appealing to true fans.
Meantime, the board of governors should grab the Sun Belt and use it to tan the commish's hide.
Shifting gears
About those four groups who supposedly were interesting in buying the Coyotes and keeping them in Phoenix: They have opted to buy Pontiac dealerships instead.
Franchise anyone?
What's curious about the Coyotes bankruptcy sale is that there isn't a bidder other than Balsillie interested in buying the franchise and relocating it.
Owning an NHL team in southern Ontario was supposed to be priceless, wasn't it?
Those groups that had professed interest in owning a Toronto-area team have pulled quite a disappearing act.
T.O. on T.O.
Buffalo Bills receiver Terrell Owens was asked yesterday about his team playing at the Rogers Centre on Dec. 3.
"Looking forward to that, too," Owens said.
"Get ready Toronto, here we come."
All right, we wouldn't mind seeing some football in this town.
GARY.LOEWEN@SUNMEDIA.CA
Bettman's bid to save Coyotes is misguided
By GARY LOEWEN
Last Updated: 10th September 2009, 5:06am

Gotta Love Hockey

I can't stand his voice - but Scotty Ferrall is a hockey nut that actually has knowledge and love for the game
So I have to give the guy props....
Read on PUCKHEADS!!


Wed Aug 19, 2009 9:55 am EDT

Five Reasons Sports Radio Icon Scott Ferrall Loves Hockey
By Greg Wyshynski

Our series "5 Reasons I Love Hockey" features puckheads from all walks of life revealing five things that either made them a fan or that keep them watching hockey. It will run every weekday through August. Enjoy.
Scott Ferrall is an acquired taste. I acquired it during his stint on WFAN, where his raspy tone, cliquish lingo, handing out virtual beer to listeners and ability to cram seven words into the space where only one syllable should naturally exist were nothing I'd ever heard before. Not to say it was better or worse than what was regularly broadcast on New York's flagship sports talk station; it was different, which was all that mattered.
Plus, the guy loved hockey, which was revolutionary for New York sports radio or New York sports media in general.
The Scott Ferrall Show airs Monday through Friday from 8 p.m.-12:00 a.m. ET exclusively on Howard 101, one of Howard Stern's two exclusive SIRIUS XM channels.
Here are Scott Ferrall's "5 Reasons I love Hockey."
It's subtle, but you may be able to detect which NHL franchise he prefers.
1. Mike Lange
Pittsburgh Penguins' legendary play-by-play man. There is no one like him. He was my idol in the broadcast booth. I wanted to be him when I was in high school. After doing nationally syndicated radio shows from 1993-99, I snagged the play-by-play job with the Atlanta Thrashers in their expansion season. So, yes, I was the first play by play voice of the franchise and they can't take that away from me.
2. My First Time.
My first experience with hockey was 1980, after the USA men won the gold at Lake Placid. My father took me to see Mark Johnson play. The Pittsburgh Penguins battled the Minnesota North Stars at the Igloo in the Steel City. One game and I was hooked for life. I have proceeded to be a massive hockey fan ever since.
This year will be 30 years of following the NHL. I love the sport like no other. Nothing comes close for me personally. The speed of the game and hitting gets my blood flowing. The fights are just as good. I love the power play and penalty kill. The playoffs are the best happening in sports. This year's Stanley Cup Finals between the Pens and Red Wings was one for the ages. I always watch the NHL over every other sport. I will never stop being a fan and friend of the league. I actually work for the league. I do two shows: THE HOCKEY SHOW on NHL.COM and THE CISCO ALL ACCESS PRE-GAME SHOW during the playoffs.
3. Mario Lemieux.
There was none better in my opinion. The magnificent one! When he got drafted in ‘86 the Pens fortunes turned around dramatically and he would go on to one of the most brilliant career's the league has ever known. He battled cancer. He won two Stanley Cups as a player (back-to-back). He saved the franchise from certain death. He fought off bankruptcy and fixed the financial mess the team was, only to rebuild and win another CUP (this year over the dynasty Wings) as an owner. I'm lucky to say Mario is a friend. Coolest player I've ever met. Humble yet dominant! Unstoppable. I saw him score a goal five different ways in one game.

4. 1990-91; 1991-1992; 2008-2009.
PENGUINS WIN STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONSHIP -- enough said!
5. The Players.
My radio show relationships that I've made over the years with hundreds of players, both current and retired. I've had more NHL players on my radio show at SIRIUS XM Radio (HOWARD 101) than anyone doing radio anywhere in North America. I talk more hockey than anyone. I have several guys that are regulars like Mike Modano(notes) of the Stars, Mike Green(notes)-Caps, Shane Doan(notes)-Coyotes, Sean O'Donnell(notes)-Kings, Joe Thornton(notes)-Sharks, Paul Martin(notes) and Patrick Elias-Devils, etc. The list goes on forever.
How cool is it that every night I get to talk to the best players in the world with NO RULES! Brilliant!
Former ten team and 20-year veteran Cup Champion Jim Dowd(notes) (Brick, NJ) also does my show weekly throughout the season. I've had on everyone from Gary Bettman to Wayne Gretzky.
SEE YOU AT THE RINK AND DON'T FORGET WHO THE NHL CHAMPS ARE RIGHT NOW -- PENGUINS RULE!

NY Times Article - End of The Magazine Era.....

August 3, 2009
THE MEDIA EQUATION
10 Years Ago, an Omen No One Saw

By DAVID CARR
Ten years ago Sunday, on an island off an island off the coast of America, something impossibly glamorous took place. Partygoers took boats from Manhattan to the home of the Statue of Liberty to plop pashalike on pillows and blankets and munch on lamb chops while Macy Gray sang, their faces illuminated with multicolored Chinese lanterns and fireworks curated and narrated by George Plimpton.

“That was a silver-flanged fleur-de-lis,” said the voice, highly recognizable but disembodied by darkness.

This was the Talk magazine launch party on Aug. 2, 1999 — simply called The Party at the time — and it seemed as if a new era of media fabulousness had been christened. The Hearst Corporation and Miramax, owned by Disney, decided to finance a new general interest magazine led by Tina Brown, fresh off her triumphs at Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, that would lead the national conversation.

It was all kicked off with the kind of lavish party that would seem unthinkable in the current context.

Sponsored liquor flowed, women teetered about on heels in deep grass, and the A-list guest list — Mr. Kissinger, please meet Miss um Ms. uh meet Madonna — was a testament to the power of the synergized word. Content was king and Ms. Brown was its queen.

“Now you’re not exactly the tired masses, the huddled masses, but then again, I’m an immigrant who toiled here on the Concorde,” she said to the crowd after being introduced by Queen Latifah. “But I just want to say, here’s to Lady Liberty tonight.”

Too bad nobody saw the sharks circling in the harbor. Rather than the culmination of a century of press power, the Talk party was the end of an era, a literal fin de siècle. Flush with cash from the go-go ’90s and engorged by spending from the dot-com era, mainstream media companies seemed poised on the brink of something extraordinary. But that brink ended up being a cliff.

“It seems like that happened in the 18th century,” said Ms. Brown by phone last Friday.

Magazines are on pace to book little more than half of the advertising pages that the industry did 10 years ago, and dozens of longtime titles have disappeared. The last big magazine introduction — Portfolio at Condé Nast Publications — flamed out this spring after two years at a cost of more than $80 million. Now even Condé Nast Publications, the world headquarters of printed luxury, has brought in the bean counters from McKinsey with an eye toward further cuts. There may never be another large magazine launch ever, and certainly not one that was accompanied by the fanfare of Talk.

I’m still ashamed to admit that I wasn’t one of the lucky 1,000 people invited to the party — old prerogatives die hard — so I was trapped on shore, covering it secondhand with a nose pressed up against the glass. But it is worth thinking about how this future, or lack of one, arrived so unforeseen.

Ten years ago, journalists, long the salarymen of the publishing economy, began gorging on big contracts and options from digital start-ups like shrimp at a free buffet. With coveted writers commanding $5 for every typed word into magazines that were stuffed to the brim with advertising, there was a fizziness, some would say recklessness, in the air. The industry was drunk on its own prerogatives, working a party that seemed as if it would never end.

Peter Kaplan, the former editor of The New York Observer, attended the party and oversaw coverage of the event.

“Tina, for all the excellence of her antenna, was scratching the air, and like many of us, was unable to pull in the new signal,” he said. “She failed to see that it was probably already over and that there was something slightly hollow about that event.”

Most of us who covered media did not fully understand the implications of the new technology that could publish and distribute information at zero marginal cost. The Web was viewed as a niche, as a way to supplement and enhance the printed product, certainly not a threat that would make many of those publications obsolete.

“Most of the talk at the Talk party was about the party itself,” said Kurt Andersen, a novelist, radio host and founder of Spy magazine. “It was weird and interesting because you were sort of wandering around in the dark out there and bumping into people. There was a meta quality to the thing, a self-consciousness, that in retrospect was probably telling.”

At least Ms. Brown did not compose a rap ode to the new magazine. That fell to Mr. Big, Ron Galotti, the former Condé Nast publisher who managed to get a flock of advertisers to buy the hype and commit to the first four issues of a magazine they had never seen. After Talk closed, Mr. Big quit Manhattan media and moved to a farm in Vermont. Maybe he knew something we didn’t. (He did not return a call.)

“It was the end of something extraordinary, but none of us knew it at the time,” Ms. Brown says now. “What followed was a very turbulent odyssey, not just for me, but for all of us. There has been a volcanic realignment that none of us foresaw.”

After Talk closed early in 2002, Ms. Brown hosted a television show on CNBC and wrote a book about Princess Diana. Demonstrating a nimbleness that has characterized her entire career, she is now running The Daily Beast, a scrappy but promising digital media site owned by Barry Diller’s InterActiveCorp.

She pays her writers, increasingly an exception these days, but there are no huge contracts or boat rides to sylvan lawns full of impossibly famous people. The Daily Beast has 1.5 million unique visitors a month, according to Quantcast, and has kicked up some notice, but its opening party of a hundred or so took place at the very much land-locked Pop Burger on Ninth Avenue in Manhattan. There was no Sarah Jessica Parker, no Robert De Niro and no Hugh Grant in attendance. There were a lot of bloggers instead.

Modern media success is enabled by brutal cost control and using hard, fast numbers to convince advertisers they will get a return for their spending. Once stalwart magazines like BusinessWeek are up for grabs and entire formerly lucrative categories have been wiped out. The magazine canard of associative glamour, of selling aspiration by the bucket-load with page after page of pricy merchandise, is all but dead but for a few exceptions.

Ms. Brown once wrote the book “Life as a Party” and on that night, it was.

“I was aware it was a historic night,” Ms. Brown said. “We were on a boat and I was with Natasha Richardson. We were talking and laughing, looking at the lights of the twin towers. And then a big wave came over the side of the boat and soaked us both. Now Natasha is gone, the towers are gone. It’s very, very sad, but I am very excited by this new world we are heading into.”

RAY JOHNSON - AN INSPIRATION TO ALL OF US

ESPN ARTICLE (Also featured in Sport Ilustrated)
One-time Mav faces cancer with 'attaboy' spirit shown on court
Associated Press

DALLAS -- Sitting courtside with Mavericks owner Mark Cuban in New Jersey, Ray Johnston watches his buddies play and tries getting lost in the action.
He can't do it. Instead, Johnston imagines the ball back in his hands, spotting Josh Howard, throwing a lob for a dunk and getting a nod of appreciation.
Oh, how he loved those "attaboy" moments.
Johnston never lets the memories linger for long. It's been a couple years and way too many doses of arsenic and chemotherapy since everything happened, all of it so fast:
The scout at the Hoop-it-Up tournament. The tryout. Going from a 25-year-old loan officer with season tickets to having Steve Nash's locker, a No. 2 jersey and being teammates with Howard and Devin Harris on the Mavericks' summer league team.
Then a bump in a pickup game led to surgery -- and a coma. All because of the leukemia no one knew he had.
Two brushes with death later, he awoke with a tube coming out of his neck and seven toes blackened by poor circulation, soon to be amputated. Eighteen months after his cancer was gone, Dallas was playing Miami in the NBA finals and Johnston was facing cancer again. The Mavs lost; Johnston won.
Now it's late on Dec. 5, 2006. The Mavericks have beaten the Nets and are settling in for the flight home. Johnston heads toward his seat, practically giving out high-fives and slaps on the back.
"Good win, man, good win," he says in his Southern drawl.
He passes poker foe Jason Terry, text-messaging pal Dirk Nowitzki and all the coaches. Then he plops his 6-foot-2, 165-pound body into a comfy black leather chair.
That's when he feels it again. That pain in his tailbone that should've been gone by now.
------=
Johnston grew up in Montgomery, Ala., getting into basketball by shooting free throws in his driveway when he was 4. By fifth grade, he was picked first in games with 40-year-olds at the YMCA. In eighth grade, he made the high school varsity.
Before his senior year, Johnston went to the same all-star camp as Stephon Marbury. Knowing he was no NBA prodigy, Johnston went home with the award for being the hardest worker.
"I was a pass-first point guard with an inconsistent shot," he said. "I was a guy that always went after loose balls. I might not get it, but I'd be on the floor and leave a sweat stain."
The work ethic, along with a devotion to faith and family, came from his parents, who divorced when he was 2 but shared in his upbringing.
His mom, Martha, sometimes had several jobs at once, including a long stint leading Auburn athletes in aerobics. Ray often tagged along, especially Sundays after football games; that's how he got to know Bo Jackson.
Ray Sr., a Vietnam vet, sold insurance and raised cattle. He taught his boy how Johnston men handle tough times and how to treat people right. Strangers were a handshake from being friends. Humility and happiness came naturally. That's why he was always smiling, even on the court.
"We had friends who didn't even have children in the game who would come to watch him," Ray Sr. said.
Small colleges were interested, but Johnston wanted to play in the Southeastern Conference. So he walked on at Alabama for two seasons. He graduated in 2001, then moved to Dallas.
Within a few years, he'd built a life to be envied.
He was dating Miss Texas, working in the mortgage business and was the model on a life-sized cardboard cutout in every FedEx Kinko's store in the country. He also had gigs playing guitar and singing tunes by Dave Matthews and Pat Green.
And there was basketball -- leagues at night, weekend tournaments anywhere within a five-hour drive and pickup games from 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. nearly every day.
Michael Irvin and Deion Sanders were impressed enough to hand him an agent's business card.
"It's probably a boring thing to hear," Johnston said, "but practice paid off."
------=
The 2004 Hoop-it-Up tournament was held right outside the Mavericks' arena. Cuban gave it an "American Idol" flair by sending scouts to look for 20 candidates to battle for spots on Dallas' summer league squad.
Once he made that cut, Johnston taught the others plays he knew the Mavericks used. They listened because he was setting them up for shots. Mavs president Donnie Nelson noticed that no matter what combination of players Johnston was with, his teams always won.
When the few who made it moved into the locker room, Johnston settled in under Nash's nameplate. Then Nash showed up to clean out his locker. He'd just agreed to sign with Phoenix.
"Sorry, I'm in your way," Johnston said.
"You're fine," Nash said, smiling and shaking his hand.
Playing behind two draft picks, Johnston's per-minute averages were decent, but he didn't get many minutes.
Still, everyone hated to see him go when the summer league ended. Nelson even offered to find him a roster spot in Lithuania or Croatia.
Johnston had six weeks to decide. Meanwhile, he kept playing pickup ball.
During a lunchtime game in late August, he got hit on the right shin. It was barely more than a tap, but it kept hurting, then swelling. The next morning, he went to Mavericks orthopedist T.O. Souryal for a surgical procedure that took only 20 minutes.
"You're good," Souryal said in the recovery room. "Keep in touch."
Hours later, a nurse frantically called Souryal. The area below Johnston's right knee was filling like a balloon, only with blood. He was rushed to Presbyterian Hospital, where specialists spent days trying to figure out what was wrong with a 25-year-old athlete whose medical history was one line long: a hernia when he was 8.
With no diagnosis, Johnston's mind raced. Friends came to the ICU to keep him occupied, like the night of Sept. 1, when a game of spades turned into Texas Hold 'Em.
The next thing Johnston knew, it was November. The Boston Red Sox had won the World Series, and President Bush had just been re-elected.
------=
Johnston awoke to a bright room with get-well cards dangling from the ceiling.
Colored posterboards held hundreds of encouraging e-mails. A guestbook was filled with names and prayers. It was as if all the attaboys he'd ever given had come back to him.
His mom was behind the decorations -- and the mood.
When a doctor said there was a 1-in-whatever chance he'd make it, she shot back, "You just may be looking at the one."
During the coma, Johnston had to be shocked back to life. Twice. His lungs collapsed, five days apart, with an irregular heartbeat in between. His kidneys failed. Twice. Blood clots in his brain led to seizures.
The culprit: acute promyelocytic leukemia, which the American Cancer Society says accounts for about 3 percent of leukemia cases.
The cancer was declared in remission about two weeks after Johnston came out of the coma.
It wouldn't last.
By the spring of 2006, Johnston was worried when he was playing football and the 40-yard spirals he usually threw went only 4 yards. Dozens of excruciating arsenic treatments later, he was a two-time cancer survivor.
The early December road trip with the Mavericks was somewhat of a celebration, but the joy was short-lived. All because of that aching tailbone.
He was hospitalized again in late December. Using arsenic, chemotherapy and radiation -- the medical equivalent of a triple-coverage defense -- cancer was again pummeled into remission by early February 2007. He received a bone-marrow transplant on Feb. 28, a few weeks after turning 28.
The next step was waiting to see if his body would allow a new immune system to take over.
If he could make it to 100 days, his chances of surviving would soar.
------=
Johnston went through all three rounds of cancer with a strong support system.
Mom moved in. Dad flew in plenty. And there were lots of prayers from family in Alabama and friends in Dallas.
There also was his Dallas family. The Mavericks.
Souryal, the team doctor, visited nearly every day of Johnston's first 132-day hospital stay. They became so close that Johnston and his mom later spent a few nights at Souryal's house. The doctor eventually announced the friendship was too strong for Johnston to be his patient. Then he realized Johnston's case was so far beyond the realm of an orthopedist that it didn't matter.
Nelson visited whenever he could, called when he couldn't. He was a constant source of advice, encouragement and swag, bringing everything from a Mavs cap to John Mellencamp's manager.
"It's hard not to fall in love with people like him," Nelson said. "He has this infectious love of life, a winning attitude and a competitive spirit. It's what makes him a guy that can overcome all odds to make the Mavs and then become a miracle man conquering death."
Cuban actually knew Johnston the longest, having played against him on the pickup-ball circuit.
Now their bond is so strong that when Cuban said he'd considered selling the Mavericks after losing to Miami in the finals, but didn't in part because of people whose lives are impacted by the team and the impact those folks have on him, Johnston thought, "He's talking about me."
"He was one of them, absolutely," Cuban said. "The Mavericks are more than just me or Dirk or our win-loss record. It's a community trust. You recognize that there's more to a team than just the organization itself, and Ray embodies that across the board."
------=
These days, Johnston hardly resembles the guy in the Kinko's cutout.
Having bottomed out at 120 pounds, he's up to 145. Still, he's bald, bony and often in pain, sometimes sitting on a "booty pad" or propping up his right leg, the one that still has three toes.
But something hasn't changed from his modeling days -- the smile. It's always there, the doorway to a charismatic personality that still turns strangers into friends, from greeting volunteers at the hospital to offering a high-five to a crying kid at a restaurant.
That attitude can be traced to his strong faith, and his favorite scripture: "A cheerful heart is good medicine, a downcast spirit dries the bones."
The first setback was so devastating he needed six months of recovery and rehab. Then he started traveling, dated another Miss Texas and got a commercial real-estate degree. He wound up working for the Heroes Foundation, an organization that promoted baseball to at-risk youths and wanted to get into basketball.
The second time cancer invaded, Johnston was so determined not to break stride that he flew to Las Vegas to coach his Heroes team the day he left the hospital. He later rounded up some relatives and got picked to be on "Family Feud," although their visit was postponed when Johnston went back in the hospital.
The third comeback hit high gear when oncologist Robert Collins declared Johnston's recovery among the best he's seen for a recipient of a bone marrow transplant. Then Johnston asked his survival chances if cancer returned.
"Not good," the doctor said.
"Great!" Johnston replied. And he meant it. If this new immune system didn't work, there would be "no more pokes."
"There are only so many Ws you can get in life," he said.
This isn't giving up. It's starting a fast break toward the rest of his life, free from worry.
He picked up his favorite acoustic guitar and started rubbing calluses back into his fingertips. He took a date to a Mavericks playoff game.
Soon after, he went to Nowitzki's MVP coronation. They shared laughs and a hug in the locker room before the ceremony, Johnston retelling his story of moving into Nash's locker a few hours before Nash moved out.
"Ray is definitely one of the toughest guys I've ever met," Nowitzki said. "He's just a great guy."
Johnston knows he can't fulfill many of the dreams he once had, so he's come up with new ones, such as making it to "Family Feud" and doing more with Heroes.
His main goal is becoming a motivational speaker. After all, that's what a point guard is supposed to do -- make everyone around him better.
"I had a nice little run 'til I was 25, then I had three years that were pretty up and down," Johnston said. "For people to see that I've gone through all this and I can still be upbeat, maybe that will push them to do something in their life that they wouldn't have done before."
Johnston still hopes to marry and have two boys, one in the NBA and one on the PGA Tour. Another dream is having the Dave Matthews Band mark the five-year anniversary of his transplant with a concert in his honor. At the Mavericks' arena, of course.
The odds of that happening are a lot better than a college walk-on making an NBA summer league team after being spotted at Hoop-it-Up.
To start, he hit the 100-day milestone a week ago Friday.
Attaboy, Ray. Attaboy.
------------------------------
Now he's got a band - and touring the South!
http://www.rayjohnstonband.com/
http://www.trgf.org/events_rayjohnston.shtml

Bruce Blog From The UK....

As if we needed to go over the ocean to check out how Bruce did in the UK.... But every now and then we need to hear some feedback from fans outside of the Jersey area. It seems that no matter how many tours, albums, tv specials the Boss and his Band seem to produce - there is still amazement at his level of genius. Forget all of the other music icons past and present. Bruce is the Boss. Hands down. Read On.


Glastonbury festival on TV: In which we discover just how many songs Bruce Springsteen has recorded
The Boss brought his A-game. And his B-game - enough games to fill almost three hours, in fact. But on TV they managed to boil it down to just over an hour: but it was still monumental.


Bruce Springsteen headlining Saturday night on the Pyramid stage at Glastonbury 2009.

It was an amazing show. The E Street Band are virtuosos; the Boss is probably the best live performer in the world, and he did not stint – taking requests from the audience and playing for well over two hours.

He opened with an acoustic ditty about wandering between the stages at Glasto, and listening to Dizzee; the rain came down and it was sweet and charming.

Hearts melted as he bellowed "Now let's start the show!", and the young and really-not-so-young on Pyramid hill got ready for a romp through New Jersey rock. If we're honest, especially the gang of boys next to me, mainly from the Born in the USA album, please.

Instead, he did a set which was almost perverse in its determination to eschew anything a festival crowd might know, in favour of a purists' paradise.

My devotee husband was in heaven: "he never plays this", "this is the title track of his critically acclaimed but largely ignored album", and "this is usually acoustic", were rolled out. Outlaw Pete was dramatic and stark, but too alien for most around me. Radio Nowhere's chorus "is there anybody alive out there?" felt a bit too much like a plea, down my end of the field.

Somebody forgot to tell Bruce it's not the done thing to romp down the dark side of the back catalogue. 40,000 in Hyde Park tonight will doubtless be delighted with The River. At Glasto, we were mostly waiting for Born to Run and Dancing in the Dark. Which thankfully, when they arrived, did not disappoint. As I trudged away from Pyramid hill, the crowd were singing Born in the USA. The boss was not.

Farrah Fawcett Obit

Since Michael Jackson is getting all the press.....
We can't possibly forget our favorite 70's icon. My bet is half of the teenage boys in the US had her poster on the wall. And we all know which one that was. Let's not forget half of the teenage girls wanted that haircut.
Thanks for the memories Farrah.


NY Times
June 26, 2009
Farrah Fawcett Dies of Cancer at 62

By SUSAN STEWART
Farrah Fawcett, an actress and television star whose good looks and signature flowing hairstyle influenced a generation of women and bewitched a generation of men, beginning with a celebrated pinup poster, died Thursday morning in Santa Monica, Calif. She was 62 and lived in West Los Angeles.

Her death, at St. John’s Health Center, was caused by anal cancer, which she had been battling since 2006, said her spokesman, Paul Bloch.

To an extraordinary degree, Ms. Fawcett’s cancer battle was played out in public, generating enormous interest worldwide. Her face, often showing the ravages of cancer, became a tabloid fixture, and updates on her health became staples of television entertainment news.

In May, that battle was chronicled in a prime-time NBC documentary, “Farrah’s Story,” some of it shot with her own home video recorder. An estimated nine million people viewed it. Ms. Fawcett had initiated the project with a friend, the actress Alana Stewart, after she first learned of her cancer.

Ms. Fawcett’s doctors declared her cancer-free after they removed a tumor in 2007, but her cancer returned later that year. She had been receiving alternative treatment in Germany and was hospitalized in early April for a blood clot resulting from that treatment, according to her doctor, Lawrence Piro. He also said her cancer had spread to her liver.

Ms. Fawcett’s career was a patchwork of positives and negatives, fine dramatic performances on television and stage as well as missed opportunities.

She first became famous when a poster of her in a red bathing suit, leonine mane flying, sold more than twice as many copies as posters of Marilyn Monroe and Betty Grable combined. No poster like it has achieved anywhere near its popularity since, and, arriving before the Internet era, in which the most widely disseminated images are now digital, it may have been the last of its kind.

Ms. Fawcett won praise for her serious acting later in her career, typically as a victimized woman. But she remained best known for the hit 1970s television show “Charlie’s Angels,” in which she played Jill Munroe, one of three beautiful women employed as private detectives by an unseen male boss who (in the voice of John Forsythe) issued directives and patronizing praise over a speaker phone. Her pinup fame had led the producers to cast her.

Ms. Fawcett and her fellow angels, played by Jaclyn Smith and Kate Jackson, brought evildoers to justice, often while posing in decoy roles that put them in skimpy outfits or provocative situations.

“Charlie’s Angels,” created and produced by Aaron Spelling and Leonard Goldberg for ABC, was a phenomenon, finishing the 1976-77 season as the No. 5 network show, the highest-rated television debut in history at that time.

Ms. Fawcett was its breakout star. Although she left the show after one season and returned only sporadically thereafter, the show’s influence — among other things, it inspired two much later feature films starring Cameron Diaz, Drew Barrymore and Lucy Liu — was so indelible that she was forever associated with it.
The series, whose popularity coincided with the burgeoning women’s movement, brought new attention to issues of female sexuality and the influence of television. Commentators debated whether the show’s athletic, scantily clad heroines were exemplars of female strength or merely a harem of pretty puppets doing the bidding of a patriarchal leader.

As the show’s most popular star, Ms. Fawcett became another sort of poster girl, for the “jiggle TV” of the ’70s, and a lightning rod for cultural commentators. Chadwick Roberts, writing in The Journal of Popular Culture in 2003, described her “unbound, loose and abundant hair” as marking “a new emphasis on femininity after the androgyny of the late ’60s and early ’70s.”

In 1978 Playboy magazine called Ms. Fawcett “the first mass visual symbol of post-neurotic fresh-air sexuality.” She herself put it more plainly: “When the show got to be No. 3, I figured it was our acting. When it got to be No. 1, I decided it could only be because none of us wears a bra.”

Ms. Fawcett acknowledged that her sex symbol status was a mixed blessing. It made her famous, but it often obscured the acting talent that brought her three Emmy nominations, most notably for “The Burning Bed,” a critically acclaimed movie about spousal abuse.

“I don’t think an actor ever wants to establish an image,” she said in an interview with The New York Times in 1986. “That certainly hurt me, and yet that is also what made me successful and eventually able to do more challenging roles. That’s life. Everything has positive and negative consequences.”

Ferrah Leni Fawcett was born in Corpus Christi, Tex., on Feb. 2, 1947. Her father, James, worked in the oil pipeline industry; her mother, Pauline, was a homemaker.

After dropping out of the University of Texas, Ms. Fawcett moved to Hollywood to pursue acting. She soon found work in commercials for Wella Balsam shampoo and Noxzema shaving cream, among other products. A Noxzema commercial in which she shaved the face of the football star Joe Namath was shown during the 1973 Super Bowl.

Ms. Fawcett also found acting work in television, landing guest roles on “I Dream of Jeannie,” “The Flying Nun” and other sitcoms. She appeared in four episodes of “The Six Million Dollar Man,” whose star, Lee Majors, she had married in 1973. When Ms. Fawcett was cast on “Charlie’s Angels,” she had a clause written into her contract that allowed her to leave the set every day in time to prepare dinner for Mr. Majors.

She was billed as Farrah Fawcett-Majors until 1979. She and Mr. Majors divorced in 1982.

The poster that ignited Ms. Fawcett’s career was shot at the Bel Air home she shared with Mr. Majors. “She was just this sweet, innocent, beautiful young girl,” said Bruce McBroom, who took the photograph. Searching for a backdrop to Ms. Fawcett in her one-piece red swimsuit (which she chose instead of a bikini because of a childhood scar on her stomach), he grabbed an old Navajo blanket from the front seat of his 1937 pickup.

After leaving “Charlie’s Angels” to pursue a film career (she came back for guest appearances for two more seasons), Ms. Fawcett made three forgettable movies in quick succession, then salvaged her reputation by returning to television. In 1981 she starred in the mini-series “Murder in Texas,” as the wife of a doctor who is subsequently accused of murdering her; in 1984 she made “The Burning Bed.”

Both movies were shown on NBC, and both performances received strong reviews. In “The Burning Bed,” Ms. Fawcett was one of the first prime-time actresses to forgo cosmetics in favor of a convincing characterization.

In 1983 she played another victimized woman who fights back — a vengeance-seeking rape victim — in the Off Broadway production of “Extremities.” She took over for Karen Allen, who had replaced Susan Sarandon. Ms. Fawcett went on to star in the film version of the play in 1986.

Other roles followed in film and television — she won praise again in the searing 1989 television movie “Small Sacrifices” — but throughout, Ms. Fawcett tended to attract more attention for her looks and personal life than for her professional accomplishments. Her long relationship with the actor Ryan O’Neal, with whom she had a son, kept her on the gossip pages long after her television work had become sporadic. In recent months she and Mr. O’Neal had been living together. Interviewed by Barbara Walters this month on the ABC program “20/20,” Mr. O’Neal said that he had asked Ms. Fawcett to marry her and she had said yes.

In 1997 Ms. Fawcett negated much of the respect she had earned as an actress when, during an appearance on “Late Show With David Letterman,” she promoted a bizarre body-painting Playboy video and appeared ditsy to the point of incoherence.

But later that year she appeared in the acclaimed independent film “The Apostle” as Robert Duvall’s long-suffering wife, and her critical star rose again — only to be dimmed by publicity about a court case involving a former companion, the director James Orr. Mr. Orr was convicted of assaulting Ms. Fawcett and sentenced to three years’ probation.

In addition to Mr. O’Neal, Ms. Fawcett is survived by her father, James, and her son, Redmond James Fawcett O’Neal.

Though her career was volatile, Ms. Fawcett’s fame never diminished after “Charlie’s Angels.” She tried to capitalize on her celebrity with the 2005 reality series “Chasing Farrah,” but it was a critical and ratings flop. Writing in Medialife magazine, Ed Robertson described the series and its star as “a living example of a talented actress whose career has been turned into a parody by poor decisions.”

Ms. Fawcett herself described her career succinctly. “I became famous,” she said in her 1986 Times interview, “almost before I had a craft.”

Please, Give It Up Already.....

Is it just me....am I way too jaded? Or does this look like this information was sent out by a record label, the RIAA or the Recording Academy? Stick a fork in revenue streams for the labels. Publishing is where there is money.

Twitter users buy more music: report

DENVER (Billboard) – A new NPD Group study finds that active Twitter users buy 77 percent more digital music downloads on average than non-users. Additionally, 12 percent of those who have bought music in the last three months also report having used Twitter, versus 8 percent of overall Web users.
"Based on their music-purchasing history, active Twitter users are simply worth more to record labels and music retailers than those who are not using Twitter," says NPD entertainment analyst Russ Crupnick.
A third of all Twitter user reported buying a CD in the prior three months, and 34 percent reported buying music digitally, compared to 23 percent and 16 percent for overall Web users. Another one-third of Twitter users listened to music on a social networking site, 41 percent via online radio and 39 percent watched music videos online. Overall, they are twice as likely than average Web users to visit MySpace Music and Pandora.
"Twitter has the potential to help foster the discovery of new music, and improve targeted marketing of music to groups of highly-involved and technologically savvy consumers, but it has to be done right," Crupnick said. "There must be a careful balance struck between entertainment and direct conversation on one hand, and marketing on the other. Used properly Twitter has the power to entertain -- and to motivate music fans to purchase more new albums, downloads, merchandise, and concert tickets."

WHY MUSIC MATTERS - MUST READ......

We all listen to music for our own reasons. Some of us complain that there isn't any new music that compares to what we grew up with (the generation before us invented that line). Whatever your tastes are, the article below transcends all of that. Read it and it will bring a smile to your face. Yes, music might just be the soundtrack of people's lives - no matter what their condition.


Why Music Matters for Alzheimer’s Patients
March 02, 2009 07:30 AM
by Shannon Firth
A new UC Davis study shows that memory, music and emotions all activate the same region of the brain, which may have implications for Alzheimer’s patients.
Making Memories With Music
The idea that songs can evoke memories of people, places and moments from our pasts is hardly news, but Petr Janata, associate professor of psychology at the University of California, Davis, has figured out why.

According to ScienceDaily, Janata’s research builds upon earlier findings that Alzheimer’s patients who have difficulty with their memory still respond to music. After mapping the brain activity of a group of individuals while they listened to music, Janata noted activity in the medial prefrontal cortex, an area just behind the forehead.

According to WiseGeek, “The prefrontal cortex is the brain center most strongly implicated in qualities like sentience, human general intelligence, and personality.” And the term medial, according to Medicine.net, simply means “nearer the middle of the body.”

MSNBC reported Janata’s finding that as Alzheimer’s progresses, this area remains intact longer, while most other areas of the brain have deteriorated. When a song elicits a memory, Janata explains, “[The] music serves as a soundtrack for a mental movie that starts playing in our head.”

In his early research, Janata created “tonal maps” of a subject’s brain activity as various chords were played. The areas active in the tonal study corresponded to the same areas where subjects appeared to be accessing memories—the medial prefrontal cortex and neighboring regions. ScienceDaily reported that the more significant the autobiographical memory was the stronger the “tracking” activity.

In another of Janata’s studies, he first selected a group of the most popular songs from years when the subjects were between 7 and 19 years old. David Munger, a writer for Cognitive Daily, explained that in this study, 329 subjects listened to 30 such songs chosen at random. They rated each song’s familiarity, what emotions it triggered, and whether or not they liked it. In cases where the song elicited a memory, they were asked whether the memory related to a person, place or event. Subjects recognized about half of the songs they heard, and about 30 percent of the songs stirred up a memory. The most familiar songs were more often linked to a memory.

SIRIUS RADIO - SAVE IT??

Another great rant by the only one who truly wants to save the music industry....Bob Lefsetz.
Yes he's biting. Yes he's sarcastic. Yes, he enjoys watching the recording industry implode.
But if you really read his daily musings the love of music always floats to the top. If you don't believe it
then just download his podcasts. Then you will hear the passion and love for the music.

Until then - read today's newsletter.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Saving Satellite Radio
-Bob Lefsetz

It needs to be a tribe.

Instead of running Oprah's new TV network, Tom Freston should be in charge of resuscitating Sirius XM. Because he was there when MTV blew up as a result of the "I Want My MTV!" campaign!

FM radio was biggest when it was a club. The station filled all your needs. Not only musical, but informational too. The deejay was the ringleader, the news was alternative, it felt like being in a room with the Little Rascals. You knew about the shows coming to town, you knew the new tunes, you BELONGED!

All that is gone on Sirius XM. The growth of the service, the buzz, is history. What they've got now is a replication of what's on the FM band, but sans commercials. With all the research they've done, don't they realize people hate terrestrial radio and are tuning it out? Why? Because of the short playlists, the endless repetition and the jive deejays. All of which have been transferred to most Sirius XM channels. It's hard to spread the word on the service, because not only do most people not want to pay for radio, those that ARE paying are PISSED!

Satellite radio isn't going to be sold by the media. It's going to be sold by its fans. Until the fans are motivated to spread the word, Sirius XM is screwed.

Where's the Sirius XM social network? Where are the bumper stickers, quoting Howard Stern?

NOW is the time to play up the Howard angle. When we've got a vast wasteland in the mainstream and Howard is better than ever. Where's the site with Howard clips, other interactive features to grow his presence and audience?

As for music...

Do we really need to hear "Won't Get Fooled Again" on Classic Vinyl? Certain tracks NEVER need to be played again. What gets a listener motivated is when he hears something that jogs his memory, that he wasn't expecting. Instead of analyzing tune-outs, the team at Sirius XM should be analyzing TUNE-INS! What makes people fire up the service, what makes them keep subscribing? You can't live on fear. You've got to be focused on growth, not loss.

No more cliches. No more stupid bumpers. If satellite radio is not hip and different, not an exotic club that you feel proud to be a member of, it's got no future.

Sure, there are economics involved. But the key element of Sirius XM's survival is the programming. And too much of it is repetitive, without hooks.

Where's the stunting on Sirius XM? The type of event that built MTV, but is absent on satellite? Like giving away an artist's house, or allowing a fan to be a roadie or...

It's about buzz more than superstardom.

I love satellite radio. It's light years better than any computerized service. But it's got a bad image and now the programming is too mediocre on too many stations. It's like they're living in the twentieth century. There's no hipness, no edge.

They're doomed unless they motivate and involve their audience.

LIVE FROM DARRYL'S HOUSE! MUSIC TV NOT ON TV?

If you are asleep at the wheel (no pun intended at all) or on the internet.... You need to discover the best music show NOT on television. And it would be the finest music show if it was on television. But that is another conversation for later.

Just watch and enjoy. This is great music. And great television - not on television.

http://www.livefromdarylshouse.com/index.php

DARYL HALL LOOKS BACK TO A YEAR-AND-A-HALF OF LIVE FROM DARYL’S HOUSE WITH RETROSPECTIVE, PERFORMING INFLUENTIAL COVERS
19th edition of landmark webshow features highlights from first 18 episodes, with Daryl performing songs that formed his musical roots

NEW YORK, May 11, 2009—A year and a half ago, Daryl Hall launched his monthly webshow Live From Daryl’s House with an eye towards opening up the music-making process to his fans by collaborating with both established artists who’ve had an impact on his music and new artists that have, in turn, been influenced by him. This month, Daryl takes a look back at the previous 18 episodes, featuring musical highlights and behind-the-scenes anecdotes, in a brand-new episode which debuts May 15 at www.livefromdarylshouse.com, where it can be seen along with archived footage of past episodes.

“It’s been an incredible run so far, and this is just the beginning,” says Daryl about the experience. “This has been one of the most rewarding musical experiences of my life working with all these different people and sharing it with the world.”

In addition, Daryl takes a trip down his own musical memory lane, playing a set of songs with longtime collaborator T-Bone Wolk that formed his own musical roots, including incredible covers of Ruby and the Romantics’ aching “Our Day Will Come,” Paul Butterfield’s blues classic “In My Own Dream” Bob Dylan’s “You’re a Big Girl,” from Blood on the Tracks, The Four Deuces’ doo-wop novelty hit, “WPLJ” (“White Port and Lemon Juice”), which gave the N.Y. station its name and was later covered by Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention, and Gladys Knight and the Pips’ “Neither One of Us,” from Daryl Hall and John Oates’ Our Kind of Soul album.

Sitting around with his band, Daryl talks about previous episodes of the groundbreaking web series, including how he discovered guitarist/songwriter Monte Montgomery on YouTube playing an incredible version of “Sara Smile,” then invited him to play it with them on the show.

Past episodes of Live from Daryl’s House have featured a mix of well-known performers like The Doors, Nick Lowe, K.T. Tunstall, Gym Class Heroes’ Travis McCoy, Finger Eleven’s James Black and Rick Jackett and the Bacon Brothers, along with newcomers such as Philly soul singer Mutlu, Canadian techno-rockers Chromeo, MySpace pop-rock phenom Eric Hutchinson, Cash Money rocker Kevin Rudolf, Wind-up Records’ Chicago rockers Company of Thieves and Bay Area singer/songwriter Matt Nathanson.

Live from Daryl’s House started with Daryl’s “light-bulb moment” idea of “playing music with my friends and putting it up on the Internet,” and the show has subsequently been praised by such varied publications as Rolling Stone, Daily Variety, Yahoo and the influential Lefsetz Letter.
Back

Jay bennett - Dead at 45

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0ZKHljySfI

Truly an integral part of Wilco's best Music....From Summerteeth - Yankee Foxtrot. That was the best albums - what a run.

Here's the story from the press.

The singer and multi-instrumentalist was 45 years old.

"Early this morning, Jay died in his sleep and an autopsy is being performed," said Edward Burch, a friend and musician who collaborated with Bennett on the 2005 album "The Palace at 4 a.m." "The family is in mourning and is unavailable for comment at this time."

Born in the Chicago suburb of Rolling Meadows, Bennett began playing in bands as a teenager. He attended the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and earned multiple degrees in secondary education, math and political science. In between, he co-founded the Replacements-like power-pop band Titanic Love Affair, which released three albums during the alternative-rock heyday between 1991 and 1996, when it was dropped from its label.

Bennett was working at a VCR repair shop in Champaign when he was tapped to join Wilco as it toured in support of its first album, "A.M." A talented arranger and versatile musician who could play virtually any instrument he picked up, from mandolin to Mellotron, Bennett formed a fruitful partnership with Wilco bandleader Jeff Tweedy. His contributions over a seven-year period were key to the albums that resulted in the band's national breakthrough, including "Being There" (1996), "Summerteeth" (1999) and "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" (2002).

Relations between Bennett and Tweedy, both painstaking perfectionists, soured during the latter recording, as documented in the film "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," and Bennett left the band. Earlier this month, Bennett filed a lawsuit against Tweedy for breach of contract and unpaid artist's royalties, stemming in part from his role in the film.

In late April, Bennett wrote on his MySpace blog about dealing with intense pain from a hip injury suffered during a dive from the stage while playing with Titanic Love Affair. He was preparing to have surgery, but was concerned about his lack of health insurance. However, he also was looking forward to finishing his fifth solo album, "Kicking at the Perfumed Air," at his studio, Pieholden Suites, named after the song on "Summerteeth" that best encapsulates his talents as an arranger.

"This whole experience [with the hip pain] has really taught me to look both inward and outward for support, and I've learned things about myself that I thought I had completely figured out years ago," Bennett wrote. "Family and friends have helped me to keep faith in a future that will actually be much more carefree than my constricted present state. I encourage you all to tell me stories of recovery, as they really do help... All in all, I'm 'in a really good place' right now; I'm just waiting until I can make it all happen."

Bennett's former bandmates in Wilco are touring in Spain and could not be reached for comment. But Burch said he had spoken to bassist John Stirratt, and the band was "broken up" about the news.

"He was an extremely talented musician and a great person, and I'll miss him terribly," Burch added.

UPDATE: Wilco publicist Deb Bernardini released the following statement from Tweedy:

"We are all deeply saddened by this tragedy. We will miss Jay as we remember him -- as a truly unique and gifted human being and one who made welcome and significant contributions to the band's songs and evolution. Our thoughts go out to his family and friends in this very difficult time."

Bad Economy
The Worst Industry (Next to the recording industry)
The Best Music Magazine Still alive.
Without them we are basically stuck with Spin and Rolling Stone (or what was once a viable read)
They need help. Check it out if you don't know about it. It is by far the only magazine you need to read about music. And if that isn't enough - they cover film, tv and culture.

As stated on hyperbot.com:
"There needs to be a place for professional music journalism where the standards are high and the coverage more complete. Paste has always represented that. "

Truer words have not been published on the internet (Ok, maybe I embellished a bit...)

Read the press releases below....
-------------------------------------------
THE CAMPAIGN TO SAVE PASTE
Paste Needs You!

The global recession has taken its toll on Paste as advertisers have slashed their spending. We are turning to our readers to help bridge the gap. Even a small contribution can make a big difference.

Join 75+ of our favorite artists in the campaign to save Paste and get rare & exclusive tracks as a thank you.

Artists include The Decemberists, Neko Case, She & Him, Cowboy Junkies, Of Montreal, Indigo Girls, Jayhawks, String Cheese Incident, G. Love, Josh Rouse, The Hives, Matthew Sweet, The Avett Brothers, Joe Henry, John Roderick of The Long Winters, Over the Rhine, Bob Mould, Arrested Development, Brandi Carlile, John Doe, Josh Ritter, Marc Broussard and more. We also have a number of goodies (such as signed R.E.M. and Band of Horses posters, an ocean-view cabin on next year's Cayamo cruise, and more) to give to donors in random drawings.

http://www.pastemagazine.com/

Paste magazine asks for donations to make budget
By DORIE TURNER – 17 hours ago
ATLANTA (AP) — The music monthly Paste is asking readers to donate money to keep the magazine afloat.
The magazine, hurt by a sharp drop in advertising revenue that already has killed several other publications, won't be able to publish its next issue without the help, editor-in-chief Josh Jackson said Thursday, the day after Paste posted a donation page to its Web site.
Jackson said he is hoping to raise "in the low six figures," though he declined to give a specific number.
In exchange for a donation, the magazine is doing what it does best: giving out exclusive, rare tracks donated by artists like the Indigo Girls, Josh Rouse, Matthew Sweet and The Decemberists.
"We've just seen so many magazines go under," Jackson said in a telephone interview from his office in Decatur. "Rather than shutter the doors, we needed to at least try this."
So far, the average donation is $29 — a promising sign for Jackson, who called the magazine a "labor of love." Paste has a circulation of 205,000, but draws nearly 1 million viewers online, he said.
In 2007, the magazine offered a pay-what-you-want subscription deal — following in the steps of rock group Radiohead, which asked fans to pick how much they wanted to shell out for the band's latest album, "In Rainbows." Jackson said the promotion help boost subscriptions, but advertising sales began drying up later that year.
A subscription currently costs $19.95.
Paste, which is published independently by a staff of 15 of mostly 20- and 30-somethings, started as a Web site in 1998 and was first published on paper in 2002. Each monthly edition includes articles and photos on music, film and culture, plus a CD with songs from up-and-coming artists.
A rival music magazine, Blender, stopped publishing a print product in March and is now only online. Others, like Country Home, Domino, CosmoGirl and PC Magazine have all either shut their doors or converted to entirely online content.
On the Net:
Paste Magazine: http://www.pastemagazine.com

The RBP Flashback: The Beatles' "White Album" Is Released 40 Years Ago
by Mike Jahn (1968) in Rock's Backpages

The Beatles' double "White Album" is deemed an eclectic classic today. It's intriguing and amusing, therefore, to revisit Mike Jahn's contemporary New York Times appraisal of The Beatles on the eve of its US release in November 1968.

Tomorrow the Beatles will release their first album in a year, titled simply The Beatles.

Copies of the album, one of their most unusual although not one of their best, will be delivered to most New York City record stores tomorrow according to Capitol Records, the distributor.

The album, on the Apple label, has received heavy play on several local FM stations for the last week. It consists of 30 songs on two records, including one long electronic-and-taped-noise composition.

In it, the Beatles sample from most every phase of popular music that it has gone through in the last 40 years, and imitate many of its heroes. There is Chuck Berry, Bing Crosby, Elvis Presley, Robert Goulet, Bill Haley and Mantovani. Everywhere there are traces of the Beach Boys, but mostly there lingers the Beatles of 1965.

The album has nothing new and very little that is even recent. The main sound is pre-Rubber Soul. In the year before their Rubber Soul album was released in 1965, there was little but the Chuck Berry era, that long stretch where almost everything done by the Beatles seemed liked bleached Memphis. (Mr. Berry is a black singer and guitarist, who set the style for much rock music in the late 1950's.)

In The Beatles the group takes this old, basic rock sound and sees how many different superstructures are compatible. There are blues, country, easy listening, folk and 1955-to-1962 rock. There are a number of electronic distortions, and there are many put-ons.

Many songs are either so corny or sung in such a way that it is hard to tell whether they are being serious. In most cases, they seem not to be. In an act of lyrical overstatement, they sing "Have You Seen The Bigger Piggies In Their Starched White Shirts?" And it doesn't matter if the words--"Now it's time to say 'good night, good night, sleep tight'"--are sung as a put-on, they still are painful to hear.

It is a light record. The music is light, clean and crisp. The lyrics are light. Usually they are happy but often they are lacking in substance, rather like potato chips.

This new album sounds spectacular at first, but the fascination quickly fades. Where the best American groups--Jefferson Airplane and Blood, Sweat and Tears --produce substantial music that can be lived with, the Beatles tend to produce spectacular but thin music that is best saved for special occasions.

The Beatles, though they might not have intended it, have in essence produced hip Muzak, a soundtrack for head shops, parties and discotheques.

The Beatles is a continuation of the Beatles mystique, or maybe an attempt to ride on its coattails. The Beatles mystique was bolstered in mid-1967 when Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was released and hailed by the underground and music press as the rock album of the decade. It has been a year and a half since that album was released. And one wonders how much the praise heaped upon Sgt. Pepper's was deserved.

Once they were crowned as geniuses, there developed the self-fulfilling expectation of genius that the Beatles now enjoy, a factor that probably will help make this new album a million seller.

Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was good, and maybe it was the best rock album of the decade. But it wasn't as good as its press. The new album is not nearly as good as Sgt. Pepper's.

The new album has no "A Day In The Life." Considering non-Sgt. Pepper's material, the new album has nothing to compare with "Strawberry Fields" and not even a passable "Penny Lane."

It is hard and exciting in parts ("Back In The U.S.S.R.") and funny in others ("Why Don't We Do It In The Road?")--but only in parts.

It lacks the originality of Music From Big Pink, by the Band, and the all-over excitement of Cheap Thrills, by Big Brother and the Holding Company. It doesn't have the emotion of the Doors or the musical expertise of Al Kooper and Mike Bloomfield. And by any measure of pure rock power, Blood, Sweat and Tears is far better.

Paste Magazine - A Columnist You Have To Read.....

LISTENING TO MY LIFE: HITCHHIKING TO BERMUDA
AT HIS MEMORIAL, DISCOVERING THE DUDE WHO WAS MY DAD
By Corey DuBrowa on May 21, 2008 6:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
I’m not sure all these people understand…

It occurs to me as I stand here, looking dazed into a sea of semi-familiar faces: I haven’t been in this building since I graduated from high school—20 years ago.

Melanoma tagged my father almost a year ago to the day (at least, that’s when he called to let me know the prognosis); it moved swiftly, making his last months hell. So tonight we’re gathered in the gym of the school where he taught for more than two decades—the same sweaty hardwood where he coached basketball each winter, prowling up and down the sideline, baiting referees with unanswerable questions like “when are we gonna get a gift like that?”—swapping memories, melancholy and occasional snippets of nervous mirth.

Like all places distantly familiar from childhood, the gym looks smaller to me now. I read from the script I’ve written, feel my throat getting tight. To distract myself, I try to focus on the people I know: There’s my former basketball coach, now the school’s athletic director. And there’s the younger brother of the guy who sang in my band: He’s supposedly a desperate drug addict now. But, like everyone else here tonight, he just looks vaguely sad, and nods at me when we catch each other’s eye.

You, I thought I knew you
You, I cannot judge
You, I thought you knew me, this one laughing quietly…

Each person in the family had a job for this event—I’d done the occasional DJ stint, so my role was to go through Dad’s discs to pick out the soundtrack for the evening, locating songs that represented who he was, who he’d been.

For a guy who couldn’t find perfect pitch with a metal detector, and whose singing resembled the death throes of a mortally wounded dog, Dad had great taste in music. His record collection introduced me to artists whose work would captivate me for life: Dylan, The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Steely Dan. Picking out a set list from fodder this great felt like shooting fish in a barrel—“Two of Us,” “Girl from the North Country,” (for my stepmother, whose web-footed Pacific Northwest ways offered a stark contrast to dad’s Hawaiian-shirted, Cali-surfer-for-life persona), “God Only Knows,” “Unchained Melody,” R.E.M.’s “Nightswimming,” made more poignant by my dad’s proclivity to poke mock-fun at my love of the band by imitating Michael Stipe’s elongated Southern vowels.

The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse
Still, it’s so much clearer…

At the end of the service, the audience was asked if anyone had anything else to say, and a guy I knew growing up as “Uncle Duane” (one of my dad’s many fraternity brothers) stood up and told a mildly profane story about one particular spring break during which my perpetually broke dad bet him that he could hitchhike his way to Bermuda from Long Beach, Calif.

“Mike, I’m sure you’ve already figured this out, but Bermuda is an island chain. You don’t hitchhike there.”

As it turns out—with the kind of “I’ll show you, bastards” aplomb that came to characterize his attitude about life—dad did hitchhike to Bermuda, sending Duane a breadcrumb trail of photographs and postcards along the way, thumbing rides and whatever else to the tune of then-favorites such as Jan & Dean, The Turtles, The Byrds, and The Lovin’ Spoonful.

Sometimes I’ll see a picture of my dad now and imagine the young dude he must’ve been then: wind in his hair, “Surf City” ringing in his ears, Bermuda dead ahead.

Paste contributing editor Corey duBrowa has written for The Rocket, Seattle Weekly, The Stranger, The Oregonian and Rolling Stone.

LEFSETZ IS AT IT AGAIN - MICROSOFT VS APPLE....

You can't convince customers cheaper is better, not in music.

This week Apple and Microsoft announced their quarterly results. Apple's were staggeringly good. Mac sales dipped ever so slightly, but iPod sales were up and iPhone sales were humongous. In other words, people will pay premium prices for perceived quality. Just like you can't get a ticket for a superstar act.

Unfortunately, unlike Apple, the music business isn't building any new superstars.

Superstars... Remember Microsoft's Bob initiative? The woman who spearheaded it became Bill Gates' wife, but it was derided by the public and never adopted. Same deal with those Microsoft tablets. These products were ill-conceived. Microsoft had the infrastructure to develop them, they just never asked themselves whether the public would want them.

And now Microsoft is telling people to buy their products because they're cheap. Imagine trying to get people to see a developing act live by saying tickets are $30 instead of $100. God, you can't even get people to go for free! They've got too many entertainment options. Shit, no one cares if you're giving away a single on iTunes or Amazon anymore. People expect to be able to hear the new stuff for free.

The music business needs an iPhone.

But all we're getting is Bobs and tablets.

The starmakers are knowledgeable in the old infrastructure. Their concept of innovation is finding a new act to flog, there's nothing new at the core. How do we get someone so cute, so sexy that the magazines and television will promote them. They don't ask how we can find something so unique that the public will be drawn to them.

That's our dilemma. Where is music's "Sopranos"? Where is its "Slumdog Millionaire"? Where is the product that's unforeseen, yet is clamored for.

The iPhone is a bigger hit today, based on not only its ubiquity, but its 3G capabilities and the App Store. In other words, the iPhone is on its second album, and has toured extensively. Unlike in the music business, Apple replaces the product with a new iteration each and every year. Even iTunes is up to version 8. In other words, don't keep flogging the same damn album, working another single, but build off the album and make new singles.

And you don't know what the public wants from the get-go. Speak to Eddie Rosenblatt. Sure, Fleetwood Mac with Lindsey and Stevie made a radio-friendly record, but who knew that Stevie Nicks would develop into a twirling witch on stage?

You start, but you can't plan the future. It evolves.

It's not about the marketing so much as the essence. It's not about Twitter or other online initiatives so much as the act. The marketing surrounds the act. You're not selling marketing, you're selling music.

But it hasn't been that way for a long long time. Marketing's been king since the days of MTV.

Don't worry if your track is radio-friendly, most hard core fans don't listen to terrestrial radio.

Don't worry if your act is good-looking, videos are now just a peek at what the act looks like, akin to a photo in a magazine, as opposed to mini-movies.

Know that cookie-cutter will deliver diminishing returns. Unique can blast you into the stratosphere.

Movies have an advantage. Each and every one is new. So you can pull the wool over the public's eyes again and again. But it's hard to convince the public that the "American Idol" contestant is now credible. You've got to guard your image.

It starts with the music. That's the driver today.

And the music is just the beginning. Don't worry if the music is free, don't worry about monetizing the music. Just get it in people's hands, make it available!

Radio used to perform this function. People tuned in. Now there's too much music and most people aren't listening, so to charge for the tunes is a mistake. You need the public to take you on a ride. How many people would have watched the Susan Boyle video if it cost 99 cents a viewing?

Ultimately, pricing is irrelevant if there's desire. You've got to build that desire. And what sells in today's world is authenticity. And difference. Where are the new acts that are authentic and different?

And different today means sans tattoos and drum machines. It means melodies and good voices. Rather than driving deeper into the niches, throw a broad lasso by basing your product on these fundamental values. Not that you have to. But if you go niche, expect to stay niche. That's the flaw in the thinking of those who support indie rock. They think these indie bands will blow up. But they can't. Because there's not that imprimatur, that radio and television exposure that made R.E.M. ubiquitous, that even gave Marilyn Manson a chance. If you start way off the radar, expect to stay way off the radar.

Unless you're not stylized, but good.

Yes was respected for its members' skills. Jon Anderson had a pretty voice. Therefore, their left field music could suddenly cross over. Whereas a band with bad voices and sketchy playing will stay left field.

We can discuss this over a cup of coffee. It's very complicated, and you're getting pissed off, coming up with exceptions.

The bottom line is don't expect your favorite to be mainstream unless it's got mainstream qualities. Elements that appeal to a vast quantity of people.

But, the caveat here is no one can predict the future. And mainstream is wider than the industry presently perceives it to be.

So you start somewhere and go on an adventure, not knowing exactly where you're going to end up. Chances yield results. If someone says no, you've got to say yes. You've got to have enough rough edges to hook people, but not be so offensive as to alienate them.

We're starting all over again. We're building music anew. And everybody with power today doesn't give a shit. Because starting means no revenue, no commission.

And those starting looking for an investor are barking up the wrong tree. Because these investors want returns, and only know how to do it the old way.

It truly is a D.I.Y. world. Mellencamp doesn't get that the same way Maureen Dowd doesn't get Twitter. Their years on the planet are clouding their eyes.

Start small, grow big. The eighties and nineties were an anomaly, when we all paid attention to MTV and Top Forty radio. The world has splintered. Music can unite it. But you've got to start with the music itself.



--
Visit the archive: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/

BLUE RAY DYING????

If Blu-ray Is Dying, Why Are Disc Sales Soaring?
Jeff Bertolucci, PC World
Apr 16, 2009 5:18 pm

Artwork: Chip Taylor
Will Blu-ray finally get some respect? The high-definition optical disc format has long been the whipping boy of media pundits, many of whom predict consumers will spurn Blu-ray and gravitate instead toward video-on-demand, online download, and movie streaming services. Blu-ray is old school, they say, a relic of the bygone era of physical media, despite the fact that it bested challenger HD DVD in 2008 after a two-year high-def format war.

But don't nail Blu-ray's coffin shut just yet. A new study from Adams Media Research shows that sales of Blu-ray discs in the first quarter of 2009 nearly doubled compared to the same period a year ago, rising to nearly 9 million from 4.8 million in Q1 2008. Sales soared even though Blu-ray players and discs remain pricier than their DVD counterparts, although Hollywood studios have wisely begun to slash prices of some Blu-ray titles.

Does this mean Blu-ray has a future after all? It certainly appears so. Lower prices may be helping. Many Blu-ray players are now under $200, and Blu-ray movies sell for a little as $10. The HD format displays a prettier picture -- albeit not dramatically so -- than the HD content delivered by video-on-demand and online movie download and streaming services.

Consumer adoption of HDTV is certainly helping Blu-ray, although many users may never upgrade from DVD, or else they'll opt for a less expensive DVD player that upconverts DVD movies to HD quality. Or, as some believe, they'll simply ditch the discs altogether. But if they abandon movies-on-disc, much as they've already abandoned audio CDs, what explains the dramatic increase in Blu-ray disc sales?

This year should show whether Blu-ray's got staying power, or whether it'll die off like HD DVD.

Lefsetz on Dylan - The Guy Always Delivers (That is Lefsetz I am Talking About!)

You live long enough and you no longer worry about perception. You know life is brief, that yours will soon be over and that the world is a game, where the winners lose and the losers frequently win. Money can't buy you love and fame doesn't make you happy. But a trusted companion and a good conversation will make you feel like the king of the world. The key is to get enough distance from the tilt-a-whirl, the fire and brimstone, to see that the planet, as George Carlin so famously said, will save itself. But people?

The artist is beholden to nobody. He follows his muse. He has to. We've been lacking artists for far too long. In a commercial world where private jet travel is an achievement more worthy than a perfect rhyme. We're all about the material, that which feeds our souls has been pushed aside. Except by the chest beaters, often religious wingnuts, who tell us they have the answers, and insist we follow their rules. You get old enough and you realize there's no manual, there are no rules, we're all here alone, and you try to make sense of it all. Still, it's difficult, with everybody telling you what to do and how to feel. The role of the artist is to open the door just a little, so we can experiment, so we can take the unpopular route, so we can become enlightened.

I don't expect Bob Dylan's new album to be good. I thought "Love and Theft" was unlistenable and "Modern Times" not much better. But I'll give it a chance, all because of "Things Have Changed", from the movie of the Michael Chabon book, "Wonder Boys". Bob got it right. He seems to get it right at least once a decade, sometimes two or three times. He's like Picasso, his flame never extinguishes, he keeps on surprising us. While other acts were left in the folk world, Dylan went electric, Christian, took so many left turns that he ended up on his own path.

Have you been reading the Bill Flanagan interview posted to bobdylan.com? I checked it out, seemed a bit mannered to me at first. Did Flanagan truly come up with these questions? How much was edited, how much was scripted? It didn't seem as artificial as Bob's satellite radio show, but it seemed a put-on. Bob gives us the Bob he wants to. But now he's adopting a persona no other major artist will. Being a regular person. Unlike Eminem, he's not trotting out his drug problem, he's not Steely Dan, revealing who Rikki was all in an effort to sell a new record few really want, rather he's sitting in your living room and you're asking him all kinds of questions, which he's answering, in a way that you feel is so intimate that you wouldn't dare take notes and breach the trust. It's like your long lost pal has come back to your house in Minnesota, and you're drinking a beer in the basement and catching up on a few decades of history.

It's so strange this latter Dylan period. Reminds me of my dad. Who had a very hard life. But suddenly, not long before he died, but before he was stricken with cancer, my father would start revealing intimacies. About relatives I'd never heard of, experiences in high school, my dad became more three-dimensional, just like Dylan. Rather than pull a Salinger, the older Dylan gets, the more he lets out, and us in.

You'd think that Dylan is not a member of society. But reading the transcript of this interview, you find out he's got an interest in politics, and history, and is not afraid to utter an opinion.

He's the anti-Bon Jovi. There's no fear of shattering his image, after all, that's all it is, an image! You know this if you've ever met any of these stars. Personally, they're radically different.

Bob Dylan's opinionated. He shits on the Stones. Stating "They're pretty much finished..." Yet lauds Jimmy Buffett. And Gordon Lightfoot.

Lightfoot's most famous now for that old girlfriend who supplied John Belushi with his lethal dose. Maybe his almost fatal illness. But no one speaks of Lightfoot's music anymore. But Dylan does. He says he can't think of any of Gordon's songs he doesn't like, singling out "Shadows", "Sundown" and "If You Could Read My Mind". Was Bob driving around in his car in the summer of '74 listening to "Sundown" being banged on the radio incessantly, just like me? Are we both two wanderers on the planet, more alike than dissimilar?

As for Buffett, he's considered a joke. Known as a concert blue chip and a one man conglomerate, his musical talent has been forgotten. But did you ever listen to those early records, like "Life Is Just A Tire Swing"? Or "Trying To Reason With Hurricane Season"? Or "A Pirate Looks At Forty"?

"Mother, mother ocean, I have heard you call
Wanted to sail upon your waters since I was three feet tall
You've seen it all, you've seen it all"

We start out with dreams, we take a few chances and then we end up with the life we've got. How we got from there to here is a line we can see but cannot fathom. Chance encounters, impulsive decisions, failures to act and suddenly our skin sags, the equipment doesn't work too well and we find ourselves closer to the end than the beginning.

But, as I stated earlier, realizing there's only a reel or two left in the movie is liberating, if you're willing to jump off the cliff, stop worrying about preconceptions, others' opinions, and know that your accumulated years of living give you as much insight as anyone, that you're just as big an expert as the talking heads on TV trying to sell you shit and infect your brain with their power games. And being liberated, you become suddenly alive, more so than so many of your contemporaries, dying their hair and tightening their faces, and the kids who are too young to know that age brings wisdom.

Jessica Simpson got dumped by Sony Nashville. Britney may not be able to tour Australia. They saved a contestant on "American Idol" last night. A couple of years from now, no one will remember these minor blips on the radar screen. It's cotton candy for a public those in power want to keep high on carbohydrates.

"Mother, mother ocean, after all the years I've found
My occupational hazard is my occupation's just not around
I feel like I've drowned, gonna head uptown"

Realize this is where you're at. Stop trying to prove yourself. Don't worry about what others think. Investigate the works of the poets and pirates, those who've rejected the game in search of answers. If you haven't got more questions than answers then you're an uptight master of the universe headed for a fall. We're all lost, looking for a bit of direction. That's what artists do, nudge us. Insist we challenge convention and think for ourselves. How can you follow performers who do neither?

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/04/15/bob-dylan-exclusive-inter_n_187216.html

Levon

Whatever anyone tells you- there is still amazing music out there.
You just need to find it.
Levon Helm is an example of an artist still banging out great rhythms on the eve of his 70th year.
Plus if you have never witnessed his famed Midnight Ramble - at his home and studio, "the Barn" in Woodstock, New York, you really have never have enjoyed true musicians playing. It is probably one of the best shows I have ever seen.....Hands Down. These concerts, featuring Helm and a variety of musical guests, allowed Helm to raise money for medical bills and to resume performing after a nearly career-ending bout with cancer. It isn't the same seeing him at the Beacon Theatre or Red Rocks. You must see him at the barn.

http://www.levonhelm.com/midnight_ramble.htm

That being said - his last album "Dirt Farmer" was a classic. And he is following it up with an electric version (see below). Watch out - could be another classic (as if he doesn't already have a catalogue of music with the Band that placed him firmly in the Rock Hall!).

Proving once again, music is thriving. Just need to find it!

********************************************************************************************************************************

Musician Levon Helm going "Electric"

NEW YORK (Billboard) – After nabbing a Grammy for his rustic album "Dirt Farmer," drummer/vocalist Levon Helm will return June 30 with "Electric Dirt."
The 11-song set will be released on Helm's own Dirt Farmer Music, in conjunction with Vanguard. As with "Dirt Farmer," Helm recorded at The Barn, his studio in Woodstock, New York, and reteamed with multi-instrumentalist Larry Campbell for production duties.
On "Dirt Farmer," which ended a 25-year absence from solo work, Helm -- a member of defunct rock group The Band -- explored the roots of classic Americana and folk. "Electric Dirt" promises to continue in that tradition, but will tap into more forms from the American musical canon. The original "Growing Trade" will feature horn arrangements from veteran New Orleans R&B musician Allen Toussaint, and Randy Newman's "Kingfish" gives a nod to the musical heritage of ragtime-era New Orleans.
The Grateful Dead often covered the Band's classic "The Weight" in concert, and Helm returns the gesture by opening the album with the group's early-70s tune "Tennessee Jed," by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter.
Helm's band is scheduled to make a short run of shows in mid-June, with stops at Red Rocks in Morrison, Colorado (June 13), Cain's Ballroom in Tulsa, Oklahoma (June 16), and the Walton Arts Center in Fayetteville, Arkansas (June 18).
In addition, Helm will resume his weekly "Midnight Ramble" sessions on April 18. The jam sessions take place at The Barn and promise different special guests each week. They're slated to run through May 30.

HD RADIO - IS THERE A NEED??

HD Radio Crying Out to Be Heard

By DAVID POGUE
Published: April 8, 2009
Q: How do you make an HD radio executive bang his head against the wall?

Pogue's Posts

The latest in technology from the Times's David Pogue.
Go to Pogue's Posts »
Enlarge This Image

Among the receivers for HD radio is the Sony XDR-S10HDiP, which is also an iPod dock.
A: Ask him, “What’s HD radio?”

The HD radio alliance has spent millions of dollars on promotion, ads and educational efforts. Yet even after four years of this, most people still don’t have any idea what HD radio is.

And no wonder. You can’t sum up HD radio in a one-line movie pitch (“It’s ‘Forrest Gump’ meets ‘The Terminator’ !”). It takes a couple of paragraphs to explain it.

Back in the mists of time (2001-ish), the big bosses of AM and FM were freaked out by the imminent arrival of satellite radio. Satellite was going to offer hundreds of stations, better sound, no fading of stations as you drove from city to city and music channels without any commercials at all.

So the big bosses decided to fight technology with technology — and they came up with HD radio.

The whole thing simmered along in relative obscurity for several years. But in the last few weeks, a series of milestones and current events have aligned to make HD radio worth another look.

First, the thousandth American radio station began broadcasting alternative “multicast” channels in HD (more on this shortly).

Second, the hundredth HD radio model went on sale. And finally, Sirius XM, the ailing satellite radio company, narrowly escaped having to file for bankruptcy.

All right, then, once and for all: What is HD radio?

It’s a digital broadcast that’s cleverly blended in with the analog AM or FM signal that you already get. Same stations, paid for by the same ads, but upgraded for superior digital sound.

What the ads say is true: AM stations sound like traditional FM (most are even in stereo), and the FM channels sound like a CD. There’s no static, ever.

Better yet, about half of HD radio stations are taking advantage of multicasting: separate, different FM broadcasts — shadow channels — beamed out on the same frequency. They permit radio stations to experiment with niche, experimental and even interactive programming, usually commercial-free. WCBS-HD, an oldies station in New York, for example, has two shadow HD channels: one playing ’80s hits and one that’s a better-sounding version of the AM news channel.

And get this: all HD radio broadcasts are free. Take that, $13-a-month satellite!

O.K., so if HD radio offers so much and costs so little, how come nobody’s heard of it? How come fewer than a million people have tuned in?

One reason: confusion. It took years for the public to grasp satellite radio — and now we’re trying to sell people on yet another kind of radio?

(The name doesn’t help. According to hdradio.com, HD does not stand for high definition; “it is simply the branding language for this new technology.”)

Those cool shadow channels are confusing, too. You have to tune in the primary channel first. On some radio models, a “multicast” icon appears on the screen, if shadow channels are available. Then you hit the up/down tuning buttons to find the multicast channel. Try explaining that to Granddad.

HD radio also requires an HD radio receiver. Or, as HD radio’s tagline puts it, “If you don’t have an HD radio, you’re not hearing HD radio.” (Is that an advertisement — or a disclaimer?)

These radios aren’t especially expensive, but the setup can be intimidating to Mr. and Mrs. Average Person. Tabletop HD radios go for $75 and up. Thirteen car companies, mostly small ones, offer option packages that include HD radios. You can add an HD receiver to your existing car, too ($200 and up). There are no pocket HD radios.

I tried out HD radios at three points on the price spectrum: Jensen’s JiMS-525i ($75), Sony’s XDR-S10HDiP ($150) and Polk Audio’s I-Sonic 2 ($350). All double as iPod/iPhone docks and alarm clocks; like all HD radios, these also get regular AM-FM stations. They’re all great-looking and polished; HD radios have steadily improved year after year.

The marketing doesn’t lie: HD radio really does sound better than regular radio. AM loses the tinniness. FM gets richer and deeper.
You notice the difference instantly if you hear the before-and-after versions of the same channel — in the online demo at hdradio.com, for example. That’s also why the Polk radio’s design is so clever: when it tunes into an HD radio station, it first plays a couple of seconds of the regular station before kicking into HD. That way, you keep saying, “Wow, what a difference! Sure glad I bought that radio!”

An HD radio’s screen identifies the station, song title and performer (as some FM radios do now). My test models also offer song tagging: if your iPod is inserted in the radio when a good song comes on, you can press a Tag button on the radio. Later, when you sync the iPod with your computer, that song’s information shows up in iTunes, so you can remember that song and (of course) buy it. It works flawlessly.

All three of these radios come with substantial AM and FM antennas. The FM one is a six-foot, T-shaped cord that you mount on a wall — not the greatest décor enhancement, that’s for sure.

Even then, tuning in HD stations is slow — scanning takes several seconds each. Worse, the number of stations can be limited in your area. Digital radio is like digital TV: as the signal gets weaker, you don’t get static — you just lose the station altogether.

In my Connecticut town, I pulled down four fantastic-sounding FM HD radio stations — but not a single AM station or multicasting FM station. Those stations didn’t appear until I tried again closer to Manhattan.

To get a wider sampling, I asked my 100,000 Twitter followers if they’d tried HD radio. Sixteen people responded.

A dozen wrote that they love the audio quality and, in particular, the variety of those shadow (multicast) FM channels.

Half of them complained, however, about reception problems like “hunting,” where the radio switches back and forth between the HD and regular versions of a channel.

Three respondents work in the radio industry. All three expressed doubts about HD radio’s survival. They cited the cost for radio stations to outfit themselves for HD broadcasts, and for consumers to buy the radios.

The biggest worry, according to one radio guy, is the concept. What draws radio customers isn’t sound quality, it’s programming. Take satellite radio: it’s not the audio fidelity that draws an audience, it’s those 300 (mostly commercial-free) channels — featuring the likes of Howard Stern, Major League Baseball, Martha Stewart and others, as well as dozens of narrowly programmed music stations. HD’s multicast channels could fulfill much the same mission, but these days, few stations have the money or manpower to work on HD channels.

That explains the five Twitter pals who independently mentioned that they listen to Internet radio more than HD radio these days, especially on the iPhone. It may not sound as good, but wow, what programming — radio stations from all over the world, all available free.

On the face of it, HD radio is more exciting than it’s getting credit for. Plans include traffic reports on the radio screen and special pay-per-view audio events.

And HD radio still offers local news and views. Satellite channels are generally national.

The numbers look good, too. Two thousand radio stations are now broadcasting in HD, 70 car models are available with built-in receivers. But the number that counts — people actually listening to HD radio — is shockingly low. Unless the economy turns around, unless satellite goes away, unless reception improves, unless HD gets a reputation for great shows (and not just great sound), HD may have a tough slog ahead.