On one level, the song is a return to form and a smoother pairing of West's newfound faith and existing politics. It's also motivational boilerplate. But that's to be expected. The sneaker man does not want you so free that you stop wanting sneakers. | | | | Don't stand so close to me: The Police properly social-distancing in Atlanta, November 2007.
(Rick Diamond/WireImage/Getty Images) | | | | | |  | "On one level, the song is a return to form and a smoother pairing of West's newfound faith and existing politics. It's also motivational boilerplate. But that's to be expected. The sneaker man does not want you so free that you stop wanting sneakers."
| | | | | | rantnrave:// Why don't classic-rock radio stations, which have no problem playing funk and disco songs by QUEEN and the ROLLING STONES, ever play FUNKADELIC or JAMES BROWN or TINA TURNER or PRINCE? Why does the current rotation at my local "new alternative" station include white artists who do hip-hop but not Black artists who do hip-hop (or, based on a quick glance at the top 50 or 60 tracks, Black artists who aren't KENNYHOOPLA, who, by the way, this is some good modern-rock throwbacking)? I've been asking these questions for years, sometimes in print, sometimes in a road-rage-like state inside my car and sometimes in the direction of actual radio programmers, who tend to use phrase like "the culture of the station" and sentences like "they're legacy artists who our listeners grew up with," which is sort of the rock radio equivalent of kids getting into YALE most because one of their parents went to Yale, which is how bad ideas perpetuate through bad systems for year after year and decade after decade while I continue to scream into my windshield. Summer 2020 seems a particularly good time to change some of the answers to the same questions, and then to change some of that programming. In ROLLING STONE, KATHERINE TURMAN, who has a long classic-rock resume of her own, asks what the industry can do to participate in the current national conversation about race, from dropping problematic songs like this Rolling Stones staple to having on-air dialog about the issues. (She gives credit to CUMULUS MEDIA for a coordinated effort to read the names of Black victims of police brutality on stations across all its formats). Me, I'd love to hear P-FUNK or, say, the GAP BAND's "YOU DROPPED A BOMB ON ME" somewhere in between RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS and CARS twofers. Any decent human programmer, and probably even a decent non-human one, could make this work without breaking a sweat if given the chance. And I'd love to hear my local new alternative station drop this in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon block. (The objections on that end inevitably include the fact that DUA SALEH's label probably isn't servicing their tracks to alternative stations, to which I would ask: So what? You have machines capable of downloading and playing music and you're paid up on your ASCAP and BMI licenses. You can just grab it and play it.) I'm not asking for new quotas. I'm asking to end the unspoken old ones that keep things, perpetually, exactly as they are. In response to CHERIE HU asking "what would be the music-industry equivalent of all these white actors stepping down from their roles as Black characters," I offer some other off-the-cuff random ideas. Lots of discussion-worthy ideas from other people, too, including what's becoming a consensus suggestion for substantive change: "reverting majority catalog ownership to their rightful creators"... Music supervisors want more credit, too. Their chief nemesis: The DIRECTORS GUILD OF AMERICA. Some fascinating inside baseball here... RIP HACHALU HUNDESSA, WILLIE WRIGHT and JORDAN "STEPA J." GROGGS. | | | - Matty Karas (@troubledoll), curator | | | |  | Rolling Stone | | Amid national conversations about racial injustice, radio stations are struggling to respond appropriately in their programming. What goes and what stays? | | | |  | Narratively | | What do a crew of talented musicians do when forced to serve at the pleasure of a notoriously cruel dictator? They play like their lives depend on it. | | | |  | Passion of the Weiss | | Abe Beame takes an extensive look at the work that entered the New Orleans rap superstar into the "best rapper alive" conversation. | | | |  | Variety | | There's nothing like validation from your peers, especially in Hollywood, but seeing your name emblazoned in a front-end credit on TV is something music supervisors have found elusive - even when the show centers around, or is chock full of, music. | | | |  | Vulture | | Today Kanye West released his first formal artistic statement of the pandemic and the nationwide movement for racial justice. | | | |  | Bandcamp Daily | | The duo explain how the sprawling series changed their working habits for the better. | | | |  | Pollstar | | ALDA, which is half-owned by Insomniac, have teamed with Dutch EDM duo W&W, who will give their first performance for a live audience since COVID-19 broke out, July 11 in Cologne. | | | |  | Tidal | | Recording for a major label in the mid-'70s, the brilliant but forgotten singer-songwriter offered an honest, thoughtful expression of gay identity. | | | |  | Slate | | For decades, tour promoters and radio programmers thought back-to-back women performers were commercial poison. Lilith gave the lie to that old man's tale. | | | |  | Geeks & Beats | | The headphones of the future will be spatially aware, and adjust to your listening preferences using artificial intelligence. And the crazy thing is these headphones already exist. | | | |  | The Guardian | | With clubs shut, thousands of young people are breaking the Covid-19 rules to attend parties organised on social media -- and more are being set up every day. | | | |  | British GQ | | From Little Richard's outré performances in the Fifties to Gen-Z sensation Lil Nas X. | | | |  | NPR Music | | During the first half of year we'd love to forget, our most memorable songs range in topic from self-affirmation to self-preservation. | | | | | Variety | | Brad Paisley knows the Grand Ole Opry has its ghosts, but March 21 felt downright eerie. There was no anticipatory murmur of excitement from fans filing into the Grand Ole Opry House that night. No curtain going up. No applause marking the moment the show began. | | | |  | The Boot | | There are already a greater number of Black stars than those currently established who can showcase themselves. | | | |  | Genius | | Female rappers embraced LGBTQ fans & artists long before the mainstream. | | | |  | Ars Technica | | YouTube Music charges a monthly fee to play my music on my speaker? | | | |  | The New York Times | | Our latest episode breaks down "Big Drip," a defining anthem of the local hip-hop subgenre with roots in Chicago and the United Kingdom. The song is now the soundtrack to a summer of unrest. | | | |  | The Undefeated | | The star-studded soundtrack helped cement hip-hop's place on Broadway. | | | |  | JazzTimes | | Rock guitar experimentalist Thurston Moore recounts his passion for--and gradual participation in--the community of free improvisers. | | | | |  | | YouTube | | | | | | | | Kanye West ft. Travis Scott | | | | "Holy spirit, come down / Holy spirit, help now." | | | | | | | | © Copyright 2020, The REDEF Group | | |
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