Friday, April 04, 2008

The Money Shot: Pressing The Flesh With R.E.M., Nick Cave's Mistress and Who The Fuck Is Bob Lefsetz?

More headlines...

Rage Against The Machine (Washington Post)
MS: A remarkable thing happened last year, according to Solters, the Ticketmaster spokesman. The company was preparing to announce a major acquisition and in the midst of a media-strategy meeting, he recalls, "we're talking about the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal and somebody says, 'How are we going to deal with Lefsetz?' I couldn't believe that question came up. But so many people in the industry read him. His influence is incredible."

As the traditional music industry continues its downward spiral, Lefsetz's voice appears to be growing louder and more resonant. While the analyst/provocateur says some people misunderstand his mission -- "I'm not angry; I'm just passionate about music and trying to speak the truth about it" -- just about everybody in the industry seems to read his newsletter, at least occasionally.

Solters explains the appeal thusly: "He's not boring. He really gets people's blood boiling, which is what an editorial writer wants to do. He speaks from the heart. He takes an opinion and just goes for it."

Interview: Nick Cave
MS: I think we've been infected. Grinderman was like a bomb going off within the Bad Seeds. It was like going back to the wife and telling her that you'd taken a mistress. That can be a very damaging thing, but it can also be a very positive thing. I think it happened to be a very positive thing. It loosened things up considerably within the Bad Seeds. It's difficult in a band for people not to take on certain roles, and they just become the things that they do within a band. This shook that up a lot. And that's been really, really healthy. Scary, but healthy.

My days with the shiny happy people of R.E.M. (Times Online)
MS: It's at Radio 1's Jo Whiley Live Lounge where Buck, Mills and Stipe begin their Wednesday morning, greeting each other over a forest of BBC microphones as engineers set up an acoustic session. “Hello Michael,” Buck beams. “I've been up for hours.” Sticking a pair of plastic sunglasses into the same Dior suit jacket he wore at the Albert Hall on Monday night, Stipe wheezes “Good morning” and reaches for a restorative beaker of coffee. Only someone who has carefully nurtured his inner star power over three decades can look so dishevelled in such expensive clothes. Seeing a BBC camera crew, he gravely declares: “I look terrible singing in profile and great face-on. Can I ask you to bear that in mind?”

Listen to Musical Justice

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