There are plenty of journalists out there that have opposing viewpoints to my own, many even making good arguments. Chet Flippo at CMT.com is not one of them however, as evidenced in his most recent edition of Nashvill Skyline. Flippo, whose writing is usually respectable, makes the point that no one knows what will sell until the listeners decide. His point is a good one--listeners decide. His argument however fails to account for some basic ideas.

First, if listeners aren't broadly and evenly exposed to a musician or a genre then they in fact have not decided, but rather had someone else decide for them. In this case the decision to play certain albums rest entirely with corporate interests--ClearChannel, Cox, and even Flippo's own beloved CMT. He points to Gretchen Wilson and Josh Gracin's recent successes as good examples of people buying what they want to hear. Unfortunately every radio station on the planet and every major media outlet has played Wilson's "Redneck Women" and everyone who even turned on the television last year knew Gracin's face. These two weren't surprising successes but rather planned successes. Media companies decided this for us.

Second, Flippo boldly proclaims Joe Nichols album to be the best so far this year due in large part to Nichols decision to cover Iris DeMent's "No Time To Cry." Before I could keep from boiling over there is little bold to doing a cover like this. More bold is DeMent's own work and own version. We don't need Joe Nichols to know good music. If it were so bold to cover something why did Merle Haggard do this song before Nichols? Flippo decided that covering a song after Merle was in some way dangerous. Sure Haggard is a legend but he took the chance on DeMent's tune and to some sucess I might add. Nichols simply following the trail doesn't win him an award in my book.

So boys and girls, a large media outlet like CMT telling you that you have so many choices, provided you hear it on their station, is not the ideal competitive environment. Go buy an indie album, tune into a college radio station, or go see a live Americana concert and then you'll know what choice really is.

It's clear that music executives today value entertainers over musicians when an American Idol castoff hits the Billboard charts as the best selling male country debut in twelve years.

Josh Gracin, active duty Marine and American Idol contestant, debuted at the second spot on Billboard's country chart. He's good looking and can sing, but to call Gracin a serious musician is hardly a complement to Music Row's struggling artists. No doubt his patriotism plays well on country radio but should a guy whose musical resume basically includes nothing but talent contests be the biggest thing in Nashville today?

Josh's talent aside, my problem with the situation is that as long as the public is fed whatever some label guy says will sell we'll never know what good or bad really means. It's as if the labels have little or no respect for the intelligence of the listening public.

Of course downloading is to blame--not poor quality. Poor record sales overall and the mass-cancellation of tours (see Lollapalooza) are not the result of anything other than these morons sitting in a tower picking guys like Josh Gracin instead of Todd Snider, Jack Ingram, and Tommy Womack. Promote Adrienne Young, Mary McBride, or Jim Lauderdale. Good lord--we don't need more Josh Gracins. We need more Darden Smiths and Ray Wylie Hubbards. We need more Bottle Rockets and Bobby Bares. We need less of what labels think we need and more choices.

To me a record that has balance is a keeper. Some albums I get are filled with lush vocals on sultry ballads and nothing else. Others are mere barroom banter that while fun is hardly an album I'll listen to even when I'm not in the mood for such fare. Above all else, balance is something I crave.

Maggie Brown has found balance on her self-titled debut. Carefully crafting a blend of upbeat tracks with comforting grace, the record strikes a well-rounded chord. No one song or instrument stands out as the sole reason for the album but together they create a time and place that is unique and exists only while this record plays.

It's tempting to compare Maggie Brown's voice to Bonnie Raitt or even Lucinda Williams. Her soulful and impassioned vocals conjure images of her famous forerunners but after a careful listen you'll find the style is her own. Part playful barroom banter and part heartland sincerity, its soothing nature is paralleled by its raw strength. Despite her tendency to show the same talent of Raitt and Williams, in the end it is the style in which she uses her voice that sets her apart.

Particularly wonderful are the cuts "Full Moon Over Dallas", "Jacob's Eyes", and "Mosquito Net." Three distinctly different styles with a common thread, they are a wonderful representation of the strength this entire album possesses.

Visit Maggie at her website and be sure to pick up a copy of her album.

Hearing Todd Snider's East Nashville Skyline is like listening to a bit of vintage vinyl. Everything from the warm analog production to the length of the album harkens back to the days when a dusty old pile of records was a good evening's entertainment. Instead of overproduction and heavily doctored music that many of its contemporaries rely upon, the record possesses instead a unique vibe that fits Snider perfectly.

For children of the 70s, the record is quite a ride. For fans of Snider's beer-guzzling party anthems this album a bit of a departure despite having its share of clever, twisting lyrics and even a rowdy sing-along. East Nashville Skyline, a tribute to both Bob Dylan and Snider's own neighborhood, is ultimately much more than witty one-liners: it is a deeply personal set of songs that obviously comes from the soul of the talented, yet troubled troubador.

The album leads off with a witty recollection of the journey that has been Todd's musical career called "Age Like Wine" including references to the inevitable comparison of his "old stuff" to his "new stuff." The album rolls along with "Play a Train Song" which is arranged like a classic Johnny Cash tune and stands as a testament to Snider's road manager, friend, and one-time self-proclaimed mayor of East Nashville, Skip Litz. A cover of Fred Eaglesmith's "Alcohol and Pills" [hear preview] is one of the better cuts on the album with a heartfelt rendition from Snider, whose well-known substance abuse problems lends a sense of sincerity to the song. "The Ballad of the Kingsmen" [hear preview] exudes incredible California vibe and serves as a wry indictment of placing blame upon rock music for societal problems. Classic Snider sarcasm peeks out from "Conservative Christian, Right Wing, Republican, Straight White American Males" which despite being a protest song is a throwback to classic country music with buckets of twang. Snider goes on to praise pianist Jason D. Williams, rowdy Texan Jack Ingram, and some aspects of his current hometown on a rolling tune aptly titled "Nashville."

The real highlight of the album is the surprisingly honest "Sunshine." [hear preview] The song is moody and hopeful at the same time, chronicling via a hypothetical third-party Snider's own bouts of depression. Heartbreakingly matter-of-fact it does not paint suicide as a dramatic cry for attention but rather focuses on the very real resignation for some victims that it is simply a decision to end the despair. Despite focusing on such a tragic topic, the song ends on an upbeat note giving hope to both the listener and Todd himself. The song is unlike any Todd has written--nearly spoken with a bright, yet haunting backdrop of hollow accompaniment. Further, fans who know his own struggles will find this a very open look into the normally private battle.

At various points in the album, you'll find flashbacks to some of the artists that influence Todd: the confessional lyrics of John Prine; the folksy harmonica and sweet guitar of Neil Young and Dylan; the narrative stylings of Tom Petty and to an extent Lou Reed. Amazingly it all is blended in a distinctive style that is Todd's alone--albeit with help from co-producer and obscenely talented Will Kimbrough who plays just about everything on this record. Together they have created what may be the seminal Todd Snider sound via an album sure to impress.

East Nashville Skyline is due July 20, 2004 from OhBoy Records.

Wilco, born of the great Uncle Tupelo, made its mark with its last album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, a sublimely strange album that invoked the ire of its label as well as confused the millions of fans that bought it. Once again, Jeff Tweedy's strange ensemble has created what some will hail as a masterpiece while most of us will cock our heads sideways during frustrating attempts to understand exactly what a song is about.

The new album is called a ghost is born. I cannot find words to express how bizarre the trip through this album is but the fine folks at CNN do a marvelous job so I defer to their review:

Tweedy has a very specific story in his head when he sings "Spiders (Kidsmoke)." He sees rebellious preteens testing their independence on a summer vacation, coping with the emotional unavailability of their white-collar, workaholic parents.

The lyrics: "Spiders are singing in the salty breeze, spiders are filling out tax returns, spinning out webs of deductions and melody, on a private beach in Michigan."

Tweedy has no idea whether listeners will conjure the same story and, like many writers, doesn't particularly care.

So here's to weird songwriters and the albums they make!

Billy Joe Shaver lost his son and collaborator Eddy to a heroin overdose on December 31, 2000. Their musical relationship yielded some of the best music of Billy's storied career, sparking a revitalization among fans everywhere. The tragic event left Billy with both an empty heart as well as an unfinished album.

Billy set to finishing his son's last work and the result is Billy and the Kid due August 24th from Compadre Records.

Growing up I sometimes found my father's leanings toward Roger Miller, Red Sovine, and Don Williams a bit dowdy but he would simply smile at my protests and sing along with the windows down. At home he would put on an old Charlie Pride record or perhaps a Conway Twitty classic. I would sneer in disapproval not because I didn't like the music but the fact that my own father was not cool and this of course would eventually lead to my own lack of coolness.

Still, after a years of distance I found myself scooping up those classic songs of my youth. Dad, I don't listen often to the things you say but those songs resonate through the years. Thanks for knowing what cool really means.

So I've recently had some harsh things to say about Toby Keith and his ultra-pandering patriotic stance. I've only received one message that contradicts my point of view in any manner that even remotely could be considered cerebral. That message wasn't defending Toby Keith or his politcal leanings but instead calls a spade a spade--stupid shit is stupid regardless of which political point it makes.

Now for my brethren who consider themselves moderate or even conservative let me say that there's some hideous liberal musicians out there too. The worst that comes to mind is Bono. Every time I see this guy on TV testifying to some other committee about anything I scream at those on the tube, "He's a musician! He's not a sociologist or an economist! Don't listen!" He may have a point on a few things and perhaps he has honest intentions but I'm not taking political advice from this chap. Another liberal pain in my ass is Yoko Ono. Aside from destroying the Beatles, her music is crap and I can barely understand anything she says because she always seems to be whispering or screaming. That said, anyone who thinks staying in bed is an adequate protest is an idiot. Ghandi starved himself for goodness sake. Ono hung out with Lennon in a cushy bed! Finally, Garth Brooks. Dear lord where do I begin. Aside from his horrific shirt selection and his neverending personal drama, his attempts to humanize events like racism seemed a bit out of place. He's a fat white guy who really doesn't get race. We need a serious discussion about race in this country and a jazzy little song isn't going to do it. Maybe it's me but that song drives me nuts.

Anyway, that's my little rant.

Oh and don't trust anything with the words "good and plenty" in the description. That never leads to anything good.

Today has been a bit of a celebration of music for me. I've been listening to these ten songs repeatedly today:

Tales from the Sad Hotel - Jim Lauderdale
Headed for The Hills
This song is the perfect pairing of whistful lyrics and understated arrangements. The whole record really shines, but this song sticks with me.

Sunshine - Todd Snider
East Nashville Skyline
When this album finally hits the streets critics are going to recognize it for the genius that it is. The defining track is "Sunshine" which has both a unique sound as well as a story to tell. I'm dying to tell everyone about this record!

Happy Happy, Country Country - Jack Ingram
Live at Gruene Hall
Jack is at his finest live. This live cut is ripe with his signature cynicism and really indicts country music's sorry state with a smartass grin. Another must-have album.

My Sweet Lord - Billy Preston
Concert for George
In a fantastic tribute to a friend, Billy Preston outshines bigger name efforts on this album with a fun rendition of Harrison's "My Sweet Lord."

Goodnight Moon - Jack Ingram
Acoustic Motel
Will Kimbrough wrote what may be the finest song with which to end any concert. Jack has been playing this as his finale for some time but the solo acoustic effort on Acoustic Motel really hits home with the hope and sorrow of life on the road. When I hear this song it's clear why Ingram and Kimbrough are such big influences for me.

Godsend - Will Kimbrough
Godsend
Kimbrough is huge to me and this song really makes a great start to the day. The images evoked by this one are crystal clear for anyone who has ever spent much time in seedy motels or truck stops.

Stranglehold - Cross Canadian Ragweed
Soul Gravy
Is southern rock alive? Ask CCRW and the answer is an ear-piercing "Hell yes!" This remake of the Nugent classic oozes with unabashed classic guitar and kick-you-in-the-balls confidence.

Play a Train Song - Todd Snider
East Nashville Skyline
Snider's tribute to his former road manager paints a picture of Skip Litz that is nearly as vivid as the smoky smell his jacket used to pass as he laughed about one of his own stories.

To Beat the Devil - Kris Kristofferson
The Austin Sessions
A day isn't complete until you've heard a Kristofferson song. This version of his classic is one of my favorites.

Small Town Saturday Night - Hal Ketchum
Past the Point of Rescue
The news of Hal's new child had me digging for my old records. It's hard to believe this one is 13 years old but the story of a small town mindset is one that struck a chord with me when I was younger. What a great album...

Americana pioneer and one of my favorite artists, Hal Ketchum has a new release:

Award-winning singer/songwriter and platinum country recording artist Hal Ketchum and his wife, children's book author Gina, announce the birth of their daughter, Sophia Grace, born June 17. Sophia is 8 pounds 6 ounces and joins big sisters Fani Rose, 7, and Ruby Joy, 3.

Congrats to Hal and Gina. Don't forget to look for his new album next month either!

Eric Clapton arrived in town last night with the carnival that comes when a megastar is set to play. Clapton, whose legacy is one of epic porportions, has been panned recently by a critic who thinks that his concerts focus too much on the music and not enough on the personality that he has become. Needless to say, everyone has praised his guitar work despite the lack of banter with the crowd.

Humorous stories from Eric Clapton? When I think of the man once proclaimed to be God on a lonely fence in London I usually don't identify him as a storyteller. Guitar genius? Check. Icon of several eras? You bet. The guy who made acoustic cool again? No question. Interesting and funny stories? Not exactly.

Clapton is notoriously private despite living one of the most public lives in the music industry. Those writing about Clapton's private life often lack the cooperation of the artist himself but still chronicle his story based on what tidbits they can squeeze out of speculation and loose-lipped colleagues. Clapton rarely gives interviews and most certainly does not pepper the media with soundbites.

Most of his fans know his concerts are about the music and attend for that very reason. He is without question one of rock's greatest icons whose musicianship transcends time. His stories are told through music rather than monologues. His banter requires a smoking guitar instead of humorous spots about old memories.

I say let the music speak. There's other people that are storytellers but Clapton simply isn't one of them.

The music business values youth over most things these days. Our obsession with looking young, sounding young, and capturing the imagination of that oft-sought demographic drives most decisions made in the industry.

Imagine my surprise when a couple of friends of mine decided to start a band after each had a long hiatus from the rock scene. While accomplished musicians, neither of my pals were what you would normally picture as an upstart rock band. Both are well-worn from the misguided direction the music industry has taken with a decided preference for the more obscure and less appreciated gems that hide in dark record store value racks. Their decision to write and play originals as well as focus on a power-trio had the looks of a new young band--something raw and uninhibited; yet their own experience guides them toward 1970s and 80s punk, classic rock, and a dose of alt-country thrown in for good measure. A risky endeavor indeed.

Their first gig was this weekend and while I couldn't attend, I've heard that the crowd was good and into the vibe. The original material went over well and their performance was tight enough to impress and loose enough to provide a relaxed time. Their early success is a good sign that at least some people have an appreciation for interesting music.

It's nice to see that some folks really do age like wine.

Ray Charles passed away yesterday at the age of 73 from acute liver disease. Charles, widely known for his soulful impression made upon popular music left Saint Augustine a little more sad than most. Charles attended Florida's School for the Deaf and Blind from the age of 7 until he was 15 according to the Saint Augustine Record. Ray learned music in Braille and was a local disc jockey in his teens. Despite his expulsion in 1945 he was an active alumnus dedicated to raising funds for the school. His contributions to music will always be recognized, but in Saint Augustine his kind heart will more likely be his legacy.

A friend and co-writer has been listening to the same album daily for about two weeks now. After such prolonged exposure to one record, everything he says sounds like it fell from a Jack Ingram album but he has yet to notice it. He's even adapted his native Floridian southern accent to more closely match the meter and tone of Jack's Texan swagger. His walk is slightly slower and he squints when he looks at you even on a perfectly cloudy day. It's clear that he has inserted himself into his imaginary Jack-iverse.

At certain points I'm sure I've done the same thing with my own obsessions but actually talking with that pathology is difficult. We go to lunch and before he can close his door he's reaching for his CD. As the music begins, the transformation occurs--soon he's playing air guitar and singing along. Attempting to not feel so awkward I begin my own Jack impression and together we sound like two wounded animals, albeit handsome and squinting at each other. Suddenly I realized that I had made a brief stop in my pal's fictional IngramVille and decided I had seen too much. I spent the night cowering from my own guitar in shame of my actions.

Neurotic? Sure. Weird? Probably. At least I share this pathology with someone I know.

Ronald Reagan's passing has me thinking about how polarized our nation has become. Everyone has an opinion with little or no room for persuasion from other points of view. Take the President and the war for instance: both the President and his opponents have made it clear that you are either with them or against them. The President accuses everyone opposed to this war or his politics as not being patriotic as if their disagreement someway is contradictive of America's beliefs. Clearly lines have been drawn in the sand.

Music has become just as embroiled in this debate as any segment of the population. Artists who criticize the war are in turn ostracized in shades reminiscent of the great Red Scare that blackballed many Hollywood careers. Musicians who speak up for the war are hailed as heroes and awarded with handsome contracts and meaningless trophies. Music is in the thick of this debacle.

Here's my question to you, can a protest song make it today? Would Joni Mitchell or Bob Dylan find public support or outcry if they made an album that stood for their political beliefs? Would they get label support to do so? Would they find themselves uninvited from social happenings and dissuaded from appearing at public events? Would their personal choices be dragged through the court of public opinion by Fox News to discredit their artist efforts? Would the FBI and IRS sift through every last piece of information about them in an attempt to find a way to paint them as evil while entire corporations who stole pensioners' money be free to walk? Would Bob Dylan or Joni Mitchell even exist in today's America?

This is where Ronald Reagan enters the picture. While I had no love of the man's politics I can say that he disagreed with others' views without a mean-spirit or a dismissive tone. He was ideologically different than most liberals and me but he was at least polite and considerate--alternative views were welcome in Reagan's America. He may have disagreed but it was part of the landscape that defined our time and people.

In today's America I fear that Bob Dylan and Joni Mitchell would be unwelcome with their message. Today I think that they would be ridiculed as anti-American when they attempted to spread their message. And for that I am forced to say something I thought I would never have to say: I miss Ronald Reagan.

Want free stuff? Seriously...Dualtone and Sharkbitten.com are giving away free CDs! Ten lucky winners will get a new Dualtone release by submitting their own review of Jim Lauderdale's Headed for the Hills, Darden Smith's Circo, or BR-549's Tangled in the Pines. The review must be at least 200 words and no more than 500 and include your name and email address. One entry per person per album reviewed.

You can post your reviews adding a comment to the discussion link at the bottom of this story or by emailing giveaway@sharkbitten.com.

Entries will be collected until July 4th and ten entrants will be selected at random on July 5, 2004.

Getting feedback from my opinions posted on this website is an oddity. I certainly don't get much of it and it is almost universally weird--sometimes incoherent. It never has to do with me but rather the subject of one of my inane rants and usually leaves me at least a little frightened.

Hey man I love what you said about [Insert artist's name here]. Oh man that new album is so good. Do you think you could burn me a copy? I have this killer song I wrote that sounds sort of like Iggy Pop meets Garth Brooks. Could I send you my tape to give to [Insert above artist's name again]? Does he like marshmallow cream? Oh man thanks so much.

Recently I had an exception to this bizarre rule of life--a convert. Convincing someone to buy an album isn't easy especially when talking about an album by artists most people don't know. Imagine trying to persuade a vegetarian that bacon tastes good and you know the skepticism that I usually face.

Anyway, a friend purchased a Jack Ingram and a Will and the Bushmen album this weekend and proudly laid both upon my desk Monday morning like two gazelle's bagged on a safari. The smile that grew across his face was pure pride--he had purchased real music made by musicians that didn't need fancy videos or breast-baring to sell their wares. His collection had been neglected in recent years because nothing on the radio compared to Arlo Gutherie but now he had found something just as fun twenty years later. He had become the great hunter of Americana music.

After the experience I realized that I changed one guy's opinion of music even if in the smallest way. I guess that means I've made it.

I've been busy searching for my lost shaker...wait, what was it I was looking for again? Regardless, here are some shorties for the day:

• Buffett recently played a blockbuster show with Alan Jackson and George Strait in Dallas. CMT says it was a great show but did anyone request a Will Kimbrough song? Guess you'll have to wait for July 13th when Buffett's License to Chill hits the streets to hear Kimbrough's contributions to the revitalized summer-loving singer's new record.
• The Americana Music Association has announced their dates for their annual conference and awards show. You can read all about it here but if you want the skinny should book your trip to Nashville for September 23-25, 2004
• Sharkbitten favorite and OhBoy legend Kris Kristofferson sat down with the Washington Post recently for a chat. You can read the transcript here.
• Have I mentioned our pals over at Dualtone have signed Texas hellraiser Charlie Robison? I guess that means that he won't be mowing Jack Ingram's lawn anytime soon. Congrats to Dualtone and Charlie!