"...It's HAnson...As In HA HA HA..."

Don't let anybody kid you.

Singers and songwriters can be funny mofos.

Case in point.

The pop singing, songwriting brothers Hanson.

Check it out, from Rolling Stone.com.

Hanson are prepping the launch of MMMHop, their own brand of beer. The squeaky-clean pop trio hope to make the brew, an India Pale Ale, available to fans sometime in early 2012.

"We of course make records, they are fundamental to what we do, but we wanted to create a brand so that our fans have a greater experience," Zac Hanson told reporters at Oxford University Union in Oxford, England on Monday, justifying the new project. "What is vital is that Hanson merchandise is quality and not made solely with the purpose of profit."

"We have a board game and even a record player to play our last record on, but we will never make dolls, lunch boxes or toothbrushes that play our songs, for example. It's vital our fans have trust in everything Hanson do," says Hanson. "In fact, we are soon going to be selling our own beer, I'm not even joking. MMMHop IPA, anyone?"


I'm the last person in the world to begrudge anyone the right to avail themselves of the opportunities offered by the glorious system known as free enterprise.

And if Hanson wants to bottle and peddle brewsky, I think we can all agree it's their prerogative.

What makes this funny isn't the prerogative.

It's the posturing.

..."What is vital is that Hanson merchandise is quality and not made solely with the purpose of profit."

"We have a board game and even a record player to play our last record on, but we will never make dolls, lunch boxes or toothbrushes that play our songs, for example. It's vital our fans have trust in everything Hanson do,"...

On behalf of a grateful nation, boys, may I be the first to thank you for your courageous and unwavering dedication to principle.

Because in a world filled with dolls, lunch boxes and toothbrushes bearing the likeness of celebrities of all ilk, nothing says integrity like board games, record players...

...and beer.

In fact, I suspect that somewhere, reading his copy of the current Rolling Stone, noted entrepreneurial mastermind, Sir Paul McCartney is kicking himself in the ass for not having thought that one up decades ago.

"Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Lager", anyone?

"...Treasure In The Key Of M.D...."

Never been much for shopping.

It has to do, I think, with my primary hard wiring.

Or, more accurately, my male DNA.

Because I've said for years, on air, and off, that guys aren't predisposed to what seems like wasted hours of wandering around looking for things that we may or may not buy.

Put simply, women shop.

Men go get.

That said, I do have an understanding of one facet of the shopping dynamic.

Those moments when you unexpectedly discover, amongst the various and sundry same old same old stacked, spread or strewn throughout the display table, a genuine find.

As with pretty much everything else, I don't, owing to my gender, shop for music, either.

I usually know what I want and just go get it.

But, missing mall wandering genes notwithstanding, I know a find when I see one.

Or hear one.

Suzie Brown is a find.

"...There Is Nothing Like A..."

Tough week for lovers of the written word.

Totally cool week for lovers of the written word who have already shuffled off the mortal coil.

First, Andy Rooney.

Now, Patsi Bale Cox.

National news being what it is, you have no doubt come across Andy's name and the news of his passing at least a couple of times in the past day or so.

News of Patsi's passing, not so much.

And it's no dig intended at Mr. Rooney and his remarkable life to say that, if there any justice, Patsi's name would be popping up on CNN in equal measure just about now.

Because, like Rooney but with a style all her own, Patsi Bale Cox was a class act.

In a culture, and world, that can use all the class acts it can find.

This particular class act, though, was more a regional and local hero, as opposed to a national one.

So, lengthy obits, like lengthy bios, will be in short supply in Patsi's case.

Here's, at least, a link to her profile on Blogger to give you just a look at the tip of the iceberg that was this feisty fraulein.

http://www.blogger.com/profile/14953553987881154972

Ironically, though I lived and worked in Nashville for twenty plus years, I didn't "meet" Patsi until we connected as Facebook friends a year or two ago. And while it would be stretching the term to call us pen pals, we did, on more than one occasion, trade winks and uh-huhs.

And, having gotten to know her and more of her work, it was always a source of pride when I posted this yada or that yada on the FB page and, at some point shortly thereafter, returned to find a "Patsi Bale Cox likes this".

Because when it comes to having someone assess your own work, it's one thing to be appreciated by people in general, another thing to be appreciated by people you know and like...

...and an entirely different thing to be appreciated by people who's own work you admire, respect and, yes, every now and then, even envy.

I feel pretty sure that a mainstream media that thinks anything named Kardashian still qualifies as "breaking news" isn't going to do much in the way of uploading news of Patsi Bale Cox's remarkable life.

So, as mentioned earlier, obits will be short supply.

And while it would be, admittedly, presumptuous to attempt to fill that gap, I feel like Patsi might appreciate it if she knew that, upon hearing of her passing today, I suddenly thought of Delores Landingham.

The fictional executive secretary of the fictional President Jed Bartlet in the long running "The West Wing".

At the end of season two, Mrs. Landingham, as she was always both affectionately and respectfully addressed died suddenly.

And at the end of a moving service in a beautiful cathedral filled with friends, family and admirers, Leo McGarry, White House chief of staff, walked quietly to the front of the church, where Bartlet stood, alone in his thoughts of a caring, compassionate, crusty soul who had been a behind the scenes essential part of so many lives for such a long time.

Gently, but assuredly, with a smile only the knowing possess, McGarry looked at his own life long friend and said it all.

"...she was a real dame, old friend...a real broad..."

Presumptuous or not, I hope "Patsi Bale Cox likes this"....

"...This Just In...Country and Pop Find Common Ground...And...Grant Is Buried In Grant's Tomb..."

For more than twenty years, Nashville was home.

But it wasn't necessary for me to have had a 615 area code on my resume to know what I know.

And what I know, you'll know in a minute or two.

(CNN) -- There's a standing joke that if you play a country song backward, the singer gets re-hired, wins back his girl, finds whatever he's lost, quits crying and leaves the bar.

Employed, happily married and sober? Doesn't sound much like America these days.

Authenticity is what defines country music, says Karla Lawson, a morning host for Nashville's WSIX country radio station.

"It's so real and accessible and down-to-earth and relatable," she says. "It's really the most honest music out there."

The Country Music Association's 45th annual awards show airs live on Wednesday, November 9, at 8 p.m. on ABC. The show consistently ranks in the top four among the most-watched awards shows on television, alongside the Oscars, Grammys and Golden Globes, says CMA media relations director Scott Stem.

Joining favorites like Rascal Flatts and Kenny Chesney on stage this year will be rock singer Grace Potter, pop artist Natasha Bedingfield and Motown mogul Lionel Richie, who has an upcoming country duets album called "Tuskegee."

"Country as a genre has changed ... and the audience has reflected that," Lawson says.

To be fair, country music's popularity has been on a steady incline for more than 20 years, Billboard country chart manager Wade Jessen says.

Singers like Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood broke down the barrier between plaid and pleather in the early 1990s. Even if you weren't stompin' your boots just yet, you were probably secretly humming Shania Twain's "I Feel Like a Woman," Billy Ray Cryus' "Achy Breaky Heart," or Faith Hill's "This Kiss."

The list of artists who have gone country since then is lengthy: Kid Rock, Sheryl Crow, Bon Jovi, Uncle Kracker, Hootie & the Blowfish's Darius Rucker, Jewel -- even Jessica Simpson. But if the last year has shown us anything, it's that America's gone a little bit country and a little less rock 'n' roll. As Brantley Gilbert sings, "Country must be country-wide."

Things really heated up in late 2010, when viewers tuned in to watch actress Gwyneth Paltrow make her live singing debut with "Country Strong" at the CMAs. Then Justin Bieber sent a million tweens into a frenzy when he announced that he'd be teaming up with country group Rascal Flatts to record a duet in 2011.

In February, Lady Antebellum swept the Grammys, winning record of the year and song of the year. In March, Lady Gaga put out a country version of her single "Born This Way" (although I have to say, Little Big Town did it better).

Even "Footloose," originally pure '80s pop, got in on the action. The movie was country-fied in its 2011 remake. Blake Shelton sang the movie's theme song and was joined on the soundtrack by country artists Zac Brown, Big & Rich, Jana Kramer, Ella Mae Bowen and more. Shelton has invited Kenny Loggins -- the original "Footloose" singer -- to perform with him at the CMAs.

But wait, the roundup is not done yet. The first three national anthem singers at the World Series were country artists: "American Idol" winner Scotty McCreery, Trace Adkins and Ronnie Dunn (of the former Brooks and Dunn). Bieber added a song featuring The Band Perry to his new Christmas album. Jason Aldean and Lady Gaga were the first artists announced for the Grammy nominations concert.

Oh yeah, and Adele wants in on the country action as well.

The 23-year-old reportedly plans to go country for her next album, saying discovering American country musicians was "like (being) a 4-year-old in a candy shop who's discovering sweets again."

CMA's Stem isn't surprised. "I always claim that everyone likes country music -- they just don't want to admit it," he says with a laugh.

Artists like Taylor Swift have certainly added a "hip" factor to the country music industry. But it's the stories and the soul that keeps fans coming back, Stem says.

"We are a very real-life music, based on real-life experiences. Who among us hasn't had our hearts broken? Who hasn't lost a loved one, found love or not gotten the job we wanted? It covers (everything from) the sad to the happy to the silly."

Now that sounds more like America.

Now, as promised, here's what I know.

The rise in popularity of country music, at least the country music defined these days as country music, is, in large part, less about the music than the missing.

And what's missing is pop music.

Today, there really is no such thing.

The top forty chart, traditionally the home of pop songs and singers, today largely consists of hip-hop, dance and/or other "groove" and/or ethnic work. Musically tending to focus on singular beats and/or often monotonous melodies, lyrically tending to limit itself to primal intentions and/or odes to the joys of club life.

And while there are a few, occasional glints of more "traditional" pop sounds, those glints tend to be limited to singer/songwriters who specialize in the always young crowd pleasing angst approach (Christina Perri, Adele, et al).

Put simply, if regrettably old fart fogey-ishly, there ain't a Beatle or Byrd or even an Elvis anywhere in sight in present day pop music.

Country music, meanwhile, has welcomed the homeless with open arms.

And turned country music, for good or ill depending on your age and/or regional affiliation, into the freshly painted home of pop.

Not convinced?

Consider this.

Country music, for generations, was a subset of popular music, featuring rural values, hillbilly musicianship and singers who were as at home on a stage fashioned from a flatbed truck as they were pushing a shopping cart up and down the aisles of the local Piggly Wiggly.

For those same generations, country music's biggest stars had names like Hank...and Patsy...and Kitty...and Buck...and Loretta...and Merle.

Even in more recent years, the core of country was made up of plain spoken, fried chicken preferring, God fearing folks like Alan...and George...and Tammy...and Reba.

Not an Elton or Mariah or Whitney or even Madonna in sight.

Eventually, pop found a hole in the fence and wandered over more than just a little east of California and a little west of Philly, Detroit and all the other ancestral homes of top forty sounds and singers.

Not so much because of wanderlust as much finding themselves with nowhere else to go.

Their traditional stomping ground had been become a haven for hip hopsters, a den of dancers and a cacophony of club dwellers.

In the cultural sense, at least, there went the neighborhood.

And Nashville, having, for years, already had a discreet welcome mat out for rock and roll (Elvis cut many of his hits there, various Beatles, Stones, Monkees, etc also availed themselves of the world class studios and musicians)simply came out of the musical closet and replaced the discreet welcome mat with a big ol' billboard.

Welcome to Nashville. Music City, USA.

Nothing in that slogan restricting the welcome to country music.

And because pop and country managed to share space in the same spirit peanut butter found with chocolate, the evolution revolution was on.

So much so that, often, it's hard to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Because for every Blake, Trace, Miranda and Dierks, there's a Carrie, Keith, Taylor and Lady A.

All of whom are about as down home, corn pone country as I am.

The premise of the CNN article, that the "country" has suddenly "discovered" country music is, essentially, silly.

Mainstream media has simply discovered that the two have been sleeping together for a while now.

"...Stubbornly Gripping The Past Is The Same Thing As Grasping At Straws..."

First, the lay of the land.

Then a little behind the lay observation.

(EW.com) Terrestrial radio is often taken for granted as a free thing that is always around and always will be, and even though most of it is invariably not very good, it’s a comforting curiosity to see how it varies from city to city any time you find yourself driving late at night in a rental car far from home.

There are always left-of-the-dial curiosities to be found and strange, static-filled discoveries to be made, even amidst the standardized pop, hip-hop, and classic-rock playlists. And for artists, there was the ever-present chance that a DJ could fall in love with a song and help it break out on a national level.

Though those playlists are carefully controlled and closely adhered to, there was typically enough room for variation to allow for some surprises in between spins of the latest Rihanna single or the umpteenth play of “Moves Like Jagger.”

Those days may be gone for good, though, with the recent moves made by Clear Channel, the country’s largest radio company and controller of roughly 850 radio stations. The company laid off hundreds of local DJs late last week, further cutting into one of the few things their 600-ish small market stations had going for them: Their inherent connection to the cities and towns they spring from.

ClearChannel’s plan is to eventually move away from local programming altogether and consolidate stations with the aid of syndicated national shows that will operate off a centrally-devised playlist that is market-tested to death (and, let’s face it, far more susceptible to payola or other shady radio dealings that still go on even though nobody ever talks about them), free of much (if any) deviation and completely devoid of local flavor.

You could fill hundreds of terrible stand-up comedy routines with the complaints about local radio DJs — especially the borderline-psychotic morning show zoo crews — but the charm of those personalities was often rooted in the fact that they belonged to the area they were broadcasting to.

They hung out at the same bars, reacted to the same news, drove on the same roads in the traffic reports, listened to the same bands who came around to play the station’s festival at the local raceway. It wasn’t always charming, but it was distinct, and those shows were often a comforting entry point in the entertainment world of any given city.

The music will suffer, too. Playlists are already hammered out in boardrooms and have become much more limited and streamlined for the sake of advertising dollars, and with centralized programming having to serve a handful of distinct markets, there will be even less wiggle room than there is now. Local acts won’t be able to get on the air at all, all but the most heavily-marketed indie groups will be turned away, and even second-tier major label artists will have a tough time breaking in.

Sure, there’s satellite radio and the entirety of the Internet, so music discovery will still be available via other avenues, but there are still a lot of people with limited time and resources who depend on their local terrestrial station to let them know what’s happening in the music world.

Here in New York, local radio stations aren’t as big a deal (there’s not really a car culture, which plays heavily into radio listenership). But growing up in suburban Connecticut, my local radio stations were my entry point into the greater music world. Even though the modern rock station that emanated from Hartford had a pretty sturdy regular playlist, there was always room for more underground stuff (in fact, sometimes entire programming blocks devoted to under-heard and local music).

I distinctly remember first hearing songs on the radio that became instant obsessions and went on to become huge hits. Obviously, people stopped relying on other people to curate their music for them about 10 years ago, but there was something to be said for having some educated guidance (which is likely part of the reason you come to websites like this in the first place).

ClearChannel is clearly in trouble, as the New York Times reports that they are carrying nearly $20 billion in debt. They are also reporting that most all of the syndicated programming that has replaced local shows has done better ratings, so if people want to hear the centralized shows, it’s hard to stand in the way of the numbers.



The fact that terrestrial radio is changing this dramatically, while distressing to some listeners and most radio industry folks, should really, in the clear light of day or dial, come as no surprise.

Put simply, if not compassionately, time marches on.

And just as eight track tape players gave way to cassette players that gave way to CD's that gave way to MP3's, so, too, has conventional radio reached a nadir of sorts.

And, again, put simply, if not compassionately, while terrestrial radio may continue to be, in some measure, useful, it is no longer essential.

Sentiment and affection for anachronisms notwithstanding, the plain, unvarnished truth is that, with the advance of communicative technology, radio offers nothing that cannot be acquired, and in many cases easily acquired, elsewhere.

Time? Temperature?

Look up, or down, from wherever you are reading these words and there's a 99% chance there is a computer screen or smartphone or, even, a wall or desk clock in your line of sight that offers both current, hours, minutes and degrees, Fahrenheit, Celsius, et al.

Current weather conditions and/or weather forecasts, alerts, etc?

Read the preceding paragraph that starts "look up, or down....".

Current events, national, regional or even local?

Again, Google, via your desktop, laptop or smart phone at your immediate beck and call without that pesky wait for either a break between songs or the end of the endless blather by an on air personality or personalities in love with the sound of his, her or their own voices.

And speaking of songs...?

Hundreds of places to find them. Thousands of songs in each and every one of those places.

While Clear Channel's mass elimination of hundreds of radio jobs in one fell swoop certainly makes for high drama and it's always regrettable when people lose their livelihoods, the act itself is no more insidious than was the once upon a time laying off of hundreds of workers in the eight track tape player factory.

That annoying time marching on thing again.

And, bet the transmitter, that this is only the tip of the FCC regulated iceberg.

If these observations seem uncaring or even glib, please be assured that's not the intention.

I have a lot of highly respected peers, associates and friends who were working in radio last week and are looking for a job this one.

But, I, like many of those peers, associates and friends, have been talking, for a goodly while now, about where the industry was and, more importantly, where it was headed.

And, it's not like desktops, laptops and smartphones were just invented yesterday and threw the broadcast world a sucker punch from out of nowhere.

It is an unwritten, but undeniable, axiom in business, pretty much all business, that you're either "growin' or you're goin'".

And not to metaphor the issue to death, but the end result of building a broadcast career in the year 2011 out of straw as opposed to brick was, and is, inevitable...and upon us.

For talented broadcasters, staff and management and owners who have a clear grasp of the obvious and a willingness to relinquish their grasp on the good old days, the future is filled with remarkable opportunities.

Syndicated programming. Internet programming. Podcasting.

Just the tip of a new, and potentially lucrative, iceberg.

And, for now anyway, still relatively free of a lot of those cumbersome and costly FCC regulations.

Meanwhile, those who either won't, or can't, find a way to accept that it simply is no longer 1974 and "ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN MINUTES OF BACK TO BACK TO BACK HITS ALONG WITH ALL THE LATEST WEATHER CONDITIONS,ALERTS, TIME, TEMPERATURE AND ENDLESS YAMMERING BY THESE FORTY YEAR RADIO PEOPLE WHO ARE IN LOVE WITH THE SOUND OF THEIR OWN VOICES ONLY ON YOUR STATION FOR THE MOST MUSIC, NEWS, WEATHER, SPORTS, CURRENT EVENTS AND ENDLESS YAMMERING, ROCK ONE OH SEVEN!!" doesn't matter anymore, the harsh light of day...and dial...will reveal the obvious...and inevitable.

That it will, as the prevailing winds are telling us,  fall on deaf ears.