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 Novi broj je već nekoliko dana vani, a u njemu 13-ak mojih stranica. Od većih tekstova koje sam potpisao, skrećem vam pažnju na Cronenbergov portret, priču o muškim holivudskim sponzorušama i veliku središnju temu o 'smrti glazbe'.
Nakon što skoknete po Klik i bacite pogled na moju verziju sage o smrti glazbe, vratite se na Demonbaby, jedan od meni najdražih websiteova/blogova, koji se nedavno, ponukan ubojstvom Oinka, osvrnuo na cijeli fenomen u fenomenalnom tekstu:
(...) It was 1999 when I got my first taste of the inner-workings of a major record label - I was a young college student, and the inside of a New York label office seemed so vast and exciting. Dozens of worker bees hummed away at their desks on phones and computers. Music posters and stacks of CDs littered every surface. Everyone seemed to have an assistant, and the assistants had assistants, and you couldn't help but wonder "what the hell do all these people do?" I tagged along on $1500 artist dinners paid for by the labels. Massive bar tabs were regularly signed away by record label employees with company cards. You got used to people billing as many expenses back to the record company as they could. I met the type of jive, middle-aged, blazer-wearing, coke-snorting, cartoon character label bigwigs who you'd think were too cliche to exist outside the confines of Spinal Tap. It was all strange and exciting, but one thing that always resonated with me was the sheer volume of money that seemed to be spent without any great deal of concern. Whether it was excessive production budgets or "business lunches" that had nothing to do with business, one of my first reactions to it all was, "so this is why CDs cost $18..." An industry of excess. But that's kind of what you expected from the music business, right? It's where rock stars are made. It's where you get stretch limos with hot tubs in the back, where you get private jets and cocaine parties. Growing up in the '80's, with pop royalty and hair metal bands, you were kind of led to think, of course record labels blow money left and right - there's just so much of it to go around! (...)
Pričitajte cijeli esej ‘When Pigs Fly: The Death of Oink, the Birth of Dissent, and a Brief History of Record Industry Suicide’.
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