We're telling you, America doesn't want the Oasis there

WHAT'S MORE IN KEEPING WITH THE SPIRIT OF '76: UK Subs and Vibrators playing a free gig a park or Sex Pistols brought to you by Clear Channel?

HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?: With an album by an act called I Am The World Trade Center scheduled for UK release next week, and a transvestite country 'tribute' to the Twin Towers the self-puffed talk of the Edinburgh Festival, this piece from andante magazine is timely. Focusing on the reactions to the frequent anti-semitic references that litter the western european Classical canon, Paul Mitchinson, attempts to find a balance between the need to say unsayable thing and "On the other hand, an audience also has sacrosanct rights in a democracy : to object, to call for restraint and sensitivity, to expose an odious agenda. Airing such concerns shouldn't provoke the charge of supporting Goebbels or Zhdanov, which is simply a strategy for silencing one's opponents without addressing their complaints. If recent critics have taught us anything, it is that music is not simply an aesthetic phenomenon, but also a cultural product deeply rooted in our social and political life. To the extent that it participates in our culture, it will be subject to the same pitiless analyses and scorching criticism that helps create a thriving democracy."
Debate rather than outright banning? It's a nice idea, I suppose. I wonder if it could work in the rock world? Or, as Bush edges closer to trying to wipe out his father's messy legacy (and probably most of us with it), will the BBC once again be drawing up its list of records inappropriate for war time?

LYOR, LYOR PUTS MARIAH'S HOTPANTS ON FIRE: Great piece on DefJam president Lyor Cohen in today's FT Creative Review - first, he outline his plans for restorting Mariah Carey's career: "I said to her, what's your competitive advantage? A great voice, of course. And what else? You write every one of your songs - you're a great writer. So why did you stray from your competitive advantage? If you have this magnificent voice and you write such compelling songs, why are you dressing like that, why are you using all these collaborations [with other artists and other songwriters]? Why? It's like driving a Ferrari in first - you won't see what that Ferrari will do until you get into sixth gear." What's interesting here is that , once again, it seems Mariah's market position is being defined by her outfits. While under her hubby at Sony, it was all Tiffany-esque demure; then it was "look at my tits. Is this skirt short enough?" Now, it sounds like Def Jam are planning to de-tart her up again. The collaboration comment is curious, as well - what drove Mariah from the margins to the mainstream was the hook-ups with other acts - sure, from time to time, she was reduced to little more than a bikini top and a orgasmic moan, but like the man said: you gotta have a system. Can Def Jam really be planning to try and pitch her against Shania Twain? Because she's got a lot of ground to make-up, and swerving to the Middle of the Road can't be the best plan. (Personally, we 'd like nothing better than for her to take up the bakesale-dog walking life, but we never get what we wish for.)
More curious is the tale that, as part of a spat between DefJam and another part of the Universal group, Fred Durst was offered an executive position at DefJam. Fred Durst at the helm of the label that gave us Run DMC? Thank god sense prevailed...
Whole thing here [FT] - yo! the FT raps

THE WORLD IS TURNING ON... OFF... ON: And you thought we'd let the Rajar figures pass without a murmur, did you? The audience figures for the quarter to June 2002 are in, and as you've probably had brow beaten into you, the Radio One breakfast show is in apparent trouble again - although, really, year-on-year comparisons are rendered pointless what with the intrusion of the world cup in the period covered, at breakfast time. More interesting is the position of Juice - not the Liverpool station, which has improved at least its audience figures since the days when it was Crash FM - but the sister station in Brighton. When Forever, the parent of Juice, bought Surf in December 2000, the press were told "In the RAJAR survey for the third Quarter 2000, Surf had 35,000 listeners listening for 5.1 hours each, giving total listening of 179,000 hours. The Directors of Forever believe that they can substantially improve on this performance, through changes in branding, music emphasis and marketing." Admittedly, these are figures for Quarter 2, but Juice (the new name and format) stands at 42,000 listeners, listening for 5.8 hours, making a total of 243,000 hours - not, perhaps, the most substantial improvement. Indeed, in this quarter, Juice managed 3.2% of listening in its area - in the same quarter when it was a local service and less keen to ape Capital's Southern FM chart-based programming, it was getting 3.5%. The upshot of these numbers means: Forever took a locally focussed left-field station, changed it to a blander mix, and didn't see much of a flicker in listening. Probably no wonder they lost a million last year.

SPAMBANDS: Admitting it's spam doesn't make it any better, Keren Ann - in fact, in a lot of ways it makes it worse, don't you think?

NOW, WILL YOU STOP CALLING IT OLD PEOPLE'S RADIO?: If you needed more evidence of the cool of Radio 2 than the divine Mr Vine setting up shop there, will the news that their most-played track last week was Flaming Lip's Do You Realize?? help?

IT'S WHAT GERRY WOULD HAVE WANTED. PROBABLY: The only surprise at the return of a Garcia-less Grateful Dead to touring is that they left it seven years.
It's nothing to do with money [BBC] - anyone else drops dead, and it's an afternoon off, no more

MORE RADIO DAYS: Wired have a piece about Clear Channel's operations in San Diego - local voices and spark gone, national mush re-heated as faux local in place - and Mexico, where Clear all but buy stations (Mexican law won't allow Americans to own their media - Tony Blair might want to ponder why) and then basically broadcast them back across the border, pirate style. Wired is pretty balanced - consolidation in San Diego has given a stable market, it concedes, and it points out that the stations are popular. But even so...
Meanwhile, back in Britain, we've been told that Ritz - first step in Mean Fiddler's attempts to ape the Clear Channel mix of radio and venues - is currently playing a tape over and over again (like Tracy Barlow used to in her bedroom), prior to a relaunch under the frankly dreadful name of Mean Country - but then Fiddler Country would have been even worse, we suppose; and it's not like Ritz was a brand that suggested country music, either. Rollouts, digital, yadda yadda... you know how this goes...
We're wondering what sort of 'country' MC goes for - and, indeed, if there's a market for a country station at all. Sure, when digital penetration gets deep enough, as a national proposition it might fly; Liverpool might also prove a sustainable environment too. But London? I guess we'll see...

COMPUTERS CHOOSE MUSIC: At long last, someone's come up with a system which will take the human failing out of selecting music. You know when Helen says "Hey, Pete, you loved Elastica, didn't you? You should try Korn", and on the basis of this recommendation you buy a Korn album, and only find out six months later that Helen was either drunk, hated you, or else was on the Korn street team? Well, what the global network of dreams does is take the flesh and blood out of the process, leaving only the brain. You tell it three bands you like, it suggest someone you should like as well. Still early days - gnod seems convinced that my love of Miss Kittin means I should be going out and buying Sabres of Paradise - but it's a start. Plus, there's an extra feature which draws a schematic diagram of similar artists. And it'll do the same for books. No more choices, ever. Only suggestions. Men will be on Mars before the week's out.

LET'S TALK ROCK: Not many music sites include a homage to long-forgotten New Statesman weekend competitons, but Let's talk rock with Alfonse Demerara does. Besides covering what review terms really mean ("accomplished" = yes, they're still going) and providing handy things to say to bands after gigs (apparently "you were really tight" has become suspect through over-use), there's also a collection of rock irregular verbs, such as I am charismatic; you are a good frontperson; he is wearing too much make-up. Worth a visit.

OVER ALREADY?: The Libertines surely can't already have dissolved in a punky, rawky, stylee, can they? Apparently a weekend bust-up which saw Pete Doherty disappear isn't going to mark the end of the band, reckon the record label - but then labels are famous for denying splits in bands which have already divorced and remarried, aren't they? And if a few days in the studio leads to fisticuffs and girly huffs, how could the band hope to take on a tour of the US without resulting to all-out war?
That's it, I'm off [NME] - that's what we need, a new Mozzer and Marr

MOBY MOPING MUSES: Now,let's consider Moby's plea, made in his tour diary that "those of you who work at mtv/viva/vh-1/much music/etc could start by working towards limiting the amount of airtime thats given to stuff that YOU find crappy or distasteful. radio, too. here's a novel idea for the people who program radio stations and video networks:
why not occassionally play something that you LIKE and that doesn't make you feel dirty?
in the future we're all going to regret this period in music where our tastes were determinedby 11 year old girls and wrestling fans." It suggests that Moby hasn't seen a great deal of VH-1 recently (is all that Shania Twain aimed at the 11 year olds or the wrestling fans?), and also smacks ever so slightly of hypocrisy - for, strangely, Moby doesn't target any of the EMAP TV channels for his tirade, and over on the news pages we find a plea for fans to dial up QTV and request his tune "again and again."
We have to ask, by the way, what's wrong with MTV programming itself for the kids? It's what the channel is for, and complaining about that is like whining about all the football on Sky Sports. Worse, pillorying the chart stations for the music they play ignores that the real problem is in the charts themselves. Maybe if Moby sold a few more records, he might pop up on the European Top 20, too?

MORE BECKY BAMBOO GIG STUFF: This time: M Ward...
this is how shows for old people should go. doors at 3. free barbecue and plenty of potato salad. the bands start at 5:30 and you can finish up and be home in time to watch sex and the city. mmm.. bottom of the hill sunday shows RULE.
first band up was the moore brothers, whom I will proceed to damn with faint praise: they were pleasantly forgettable. they were 2 guys (presumably brothers) with one acoustic guitar who had a good blend of blandly nice voices. they had the obligatory superfan - you know, that guy who sings along with all the songs, who shouts out requests, and who listens avidly to any new songs. I have this theory that every single band, no matter how crap, has a superfan. let's test it, shall we?
yep.
there's one for candlebox. holy crap! there's a "ring 0' boxheads." boxheads? lord. you try. go ahead, prove me wrong...
next up were the court and spark. this was my third time seeing them and they were excellent as always. they have such a cool flying burrito brothers vibe to them.
and then came m. ward, who played a really short set - only about an hour. he has so many other great songs he could've thrown in there, but what we got was cool it was a big crowd, a lot bigger than I expected. I take this as a good sign that the word on him is getting out. the crowd was totally into it. it was almost like being at a rufus wainwright show. at times there was no noise other than the guitar and the cash register at the bar. hell, I could hear the front door squeak as it opened. I felt.. proud. like in some silly way I had somehow done something. delusions of grandeur, I know.

PLANES AND CARS: So, as if by someone planned this sort of thing, the first anniversary of September 11th - which this year will be held on September 11th - comes into line with the fifth anniversary of Dead Diana Day; more or less as New York announces some plans of what will come to replace the WTC, to cries of "erm... is that it?", the British government get round to showing off the sketches for a permanent Diana memorial (we do things slower in the 51st state) to cries of 'erm... is that it?'; and while Sep'ven tunes start to pile up at the Tower till... ah, but this is where the linkage ends.
Okay, the linkage mayn't seem especially strong, the cold-blooded murder of thousands set against the accidental death of a couple of hugely over-privileged toffs, but in terms of numb response, the only reference point close to after World Trade Centre was the after Diana effect. And that's what's strange.
Springsteen has, as we all know, spun a number one album out of the death; meanwhile, responses to the outrages and their effects as diverse as Steve Earle's and Toby Keith's have in turn inspired debate, and will probably create new music. The Strokes pulled and replaced New York City Cops from their set; Primal Scream disowned the entire concept of Bombing the Pentagon. Coldplay took their album off in a supposedly entirely different direction. Michael Jackson chose his special antibacteriological telephone to get some pals over to make a charidee single; the HIV song with Britney, Dursty et al suddenly had to wedge some references to Sepven in. And so on.
Now, set against what happened last year in New York and the questionable behaviour of the US government before and since, the death of the lovely Princess David wasn't going to amount to much. But what's remarkable is how little in the way of pop culture the most bizarre fortnight in recent British history generated. Yes, there is that opera (which is hardly 'pop'), and the dreadful Candle In The Wind (second mention on No Rock today, which is disturbing) - although that was just a rewrite anyway. And, of course, that sickly Chicken Shed thing. But that was - as far as we can recall - it. For two weeks, the nation clutched its teddy bears to its chest and cried real crocodile tears; everytime a flower bloomed it was cut off and forced into a bouquet to be tossed down outside Kensington Palace; the usual patterns of TV were replaced with rolling sniffles; a radio one dj mysteriously contracted a very long period of food poisoning after playing 'there is a light that never goes out.' And yet we've thought for ages, and can't think of a single song about those times. Now, it's possible we'll be contradicted in the comments section, but we find it kind of curious. No schmaltzy ballad from Jayne McDonald called Carpet of Floral Tears; no tart parallel-drawing from Billy Bragg under a 'How many other mothers died that night.' There are songs about the Falklands, songs about Thatcher, songs, even songs about IRA bombs. And yet, here is one of those landmarks, and nobody wrote a tune. It's almost as if we're trying to deny the way the country reacted, to pretend that, as a nation, we never lost our perspective at all - that our neighbours, our families, saw that it was just another celeb car smash - James Dean, Marc Bolan, Diana Windsor.
But you know what they say about forgetting the past...

THE GRAPEVINE: Tonight's pop reference snuck into the Newsnight mail-out, ctsy. Jeremy Vine: Life on Mars, neatly done in the preamble pointing out how there's not been a silly season this summer...

WHO COULD IT BE?: The writer, 6music and former gayer Tom Robinson. But who can he be talking about?
"We know that. If the name on this album was Costello, Young or Springsteen it would be acclaimed as a major return to form. If the name was Adams (R) or Gough (D) it would be hailed as their greatest, bravest work to date. How deliciously post-ironic, what a daring stroke of genius (everyone would say) to make a record with solo guitar in this age of Fatboy Slim and The Neptunes.
That would be his judgement on the new solo Roddy Frame album - although, as (we think it was) The Guardian pointed out, even when he was Aztec Camera he was mostly solo. Not sure that it's that ironic, really, but its always nice to have something new from Rod, isn't it? The album is called Surf. Some bastard's pinched the list of other new releases this week - and we assume you're not sweating on X from Def Leppard; over in the singles corner Alanis Morissette sticks out precious illusions (let's hope she keeps her kit on for the video; much as I'd like to believe the far superior Flaming Lips and do you realise? will trounce Coldplay's in my place, we know its not going to happen. And Toploader's Commonwealth Games downer time of my life should only be bought by people planning musical bonfires.

ROLF (ALMOST) BLOWS: The worlds of injured pet porn, easy-touchy-arts-criticism and giant painting narrowly escaped tragedy this weekend when Rolf Harris nearly caught fire. Apparently, the students fourth favourite thing (after: posters of Bob Marley with a spliff; subsidised beer, and calling Countdown 'Breakfast telly') was playing in some sort of tent, somewhere, when his accordion went up in flames. Your own jokes about red hot organs are welcome, if you feel you must.
Learning to swim is fuck all use when you're aflame [BBC] - course, he has an extra leg to help escape these situations

THE HARDEST LOOK IS THE ONE FORWARD: But the future will be a spot brighter with the Delgados having completed their new album. This new one is going to be called Hate, and it marks the first non-chemikal underground release for the band (they continue to run the label; it seems they just had visions of the way My Bloody Valentine almost pulled Creation down) and are now bedding down at Mantrarecordings. No release date yet, but we'll keep looking.
Making hate with love - Delgados album diary

MONKEYS BEAT KYLIE'S ARSE: Blimey - an awards ceremony giving a prize to a deserving nominee - can this be right? Apparently, Basement Jaxx's mutant monkey frightclip for Where's Your Head At beat off Kylie, Furtado and the So Solids to win the pop video award at the Soho Shorts festival. Actually, we'd quite like to see the video spun out to a fuller length - surely there's got to be a film in the idea of a scientist fusing monkeys and men to make a band? Course, Ronan would get all huffy at the tie-in single, but...
Heads up [Ananova] - apparently putting human faces on monkeys cheaper than painting out Kylie's cellulite

HOW MUCH PAINT DOES IT TAKE?: Former friends of Gary, The Glitter Band, almost manage pulling off an entire website without mentioning their past standing behind a man now doing time - but the strain is obviously showing, as the Glitter Band Official Fan Site are reduced to giving away tshirts in a desperate bid to keep their end up. Probably not a good idea to wear one in Portsmouth.

TEN, RIP: According to the Co-Op, who bury more corpses in the UK than anyone else, this is the top ten chocies of music for funerals in Britain:
1. Wind Beneath My Wings - Bette Midler
2. My Heart Will Go On - Celine Dion
3. I Will Always Love You - Whitney Houston
4. The Best - Tina Turner
5. Angels - Robbie Williams
6. You'll Never Walk Alone - Gerry And The Pacemakers
7. Candle In The Wind - Elton John
8. Unchained Melody - Righteous Brothers
9. Bridge Over Troubled Water - Simon And Garfunkel
10. Time To Say Goodbye - Sarah Brightman
Well, I guess if you're forced by the deceased to listen through that lot, at least you won't be beset by misplaced affection for the dead. Bridge Over Troubled Waters apart, perhaps, why on earth would anyone want such bland, mass-produced pap to mark their last moments before decomposition sets in? This is your last chance to request a tune, people - use it wisely.
And as for the stinking arrogance of Candle In The Wind - regardless of which version you go for, having your coffin eased off the shoulder to that is akin to building a little Taj Mahal on your gravesite, don't you think? Frankly, unless you can get Elton to rewrite the tune for you, it's best to leave it alone altogether.
Likewise the lack of humility in having Tina Turner's the Best almost eclipses the lack of any taste at all in the selection. The song that is the automatic default for soundtracking any regional advert on ITV; the song that gets wheeled out at every dreary would-be motivational planning meeting for second string companies - is that what you want your life to be compared to? A Brentford Nylons sale or the September sales conference for Mole Valley Valves?
There are quirkier choices - someone apparently went gently into that good night to the News at Ten theme; we presume the person who elected for Firestarter was being cremated - but on the whole, it's same old same old. The Co-op's Lorinda Sheasby reports "We are receiving more and more requests for popular music as people attempt to personalise funerals and choose songs that are relevant to them." Personal and relevant are wonderful for a farewell to a loved one; this chart, however, reads like the bloody Capital Gold playlist. And do you really want Tony Blackburn in charge at your funeral?

splendid - after the House of Love, Popbitch commemorates the Fatima Mansions

THE RAIN BEATS HARD ON A HUMDRUM TOWN: So, that was the closing of the Commonwealth Games, then - musically a notch above the opening, albeit some of the choices made little sense. The popbitch claim that Toploader were booked on the strict understanding of Dancing In The Moonlight would be played makes some sense - otherwise, what the hell were a bunch of mainly forgotten nobodies doing on international telly with their new single? Ms Dynamite was an inspired choice, although again the song was a curious fit. But we have to take a moment to praise the crazy warped genius of having Grandmaster Flash in to MC a large portion of the event - could it be some synergy between Manchester and the New York of Flash's The Message being hinted at here?
At the other end of cool, could any bigger fuck off have been given to Jimmy Cliff than letting him be replaced on stage by Will Young? For some reason, Young was dressed like a young conservative, with a bloody flat cap, for god's sake. We can only assume that either he was hoping that nobody would recognise him on Canal Street (if he waited a couple of months, nobody would anyway), or else he thought that a flat cap would be a nice northern touch, unaware that pulling one on would be on a par with paying tribute to Jamiaca by blacking up.
Highlight of the night, however, was one of those moments where a caught shot suddenly makes you wonder if you've got someone wrong all these years. Prizes should be delivered to the BBC director who cut to the royal box in time to catch Prince Philip grinning like a loon, boffing a balloon about with his feet and hands. Classic.
Still tickets available for the games, according to the official site - mentions "bathed in light", neglects to mention "drowned in acid rain"

SCARY SEARCH TERMS: Welcome, whoever came to No Rock by googling on "Jimmy Young" fuck. Welcome, but... please, don't tell us what you were searching for...

THE GALL OF YER, GALLAGHER: You'd have thought by now Oasis would have realised that something - call it God, call it the cosmic cat, call it a teapot circling Mars - doesn't want Oasis to go to America. They've actually got there this time, and it's already a utter fucking shambles. The nme is reporting that they managed to limp four songs through a set before Liam had to run off 'cause his little throat was hurting him. Even Britney managed five tracks in Mexico, man. Bet they're wishing Noel hadn't been able to sort out his passport after all...

another Bowie best of? - we can only presume the BowieBonds aren't holding up that well on the market

STAYING IN IS THE NEW STAYING IN: So, the news from America is that a third of a million people fewer saw the Top Fifty tours there is the first half of 2002 compared with that all-important same period last year. Some of the blame is being laid at the feet of our old friends Clear Channel, who've hiked prices (the big fifty tours pulled in an extra 6 percent cash despite those shrinking attendances), but we think there's a broader point here. See, when record sales fell, the RIAA was able to make a case that this was because everyone was stealing music. The fact that fewer gig tickets are being sold, however, backs up the more likely explanation that the shrinking of America's music market is because what's on offer isn't encouraging people to pay out an increasingly thick wad of greenbacks for it. Unless, of course, the industry wants to tell us that people had bought stilts on the internet and were watching over the wall for free...
Billy Joel still doing well [Rolling Stone] - the news just gets worse...

MOTE, BEAM CONFUSION: Okay, we're probably as guilty as anyone at rattling sticks along the cage of Modern Pop Music and poking fun at the monkeys inside. We're entitled, right, 'cause we've read fanzines and bought flexidiscs and, dammit, fought in the CD wars, we did. Ronan Keating slagging off bands as forgettable, however? Geniusboy reckons that Hear'say sounds as if "they've just been put together" - woo, Ronan, you genius - you know, I think you could be right. If only the act of their being manufactured had somehow been caught on camera and broadcast on television, then the people would have seen. And we'd be so much better off it wasn't for acts just being put together by svengalis - Ronan, you wouldn't happen to know the bloke behind that Westlife group, would you? Could you have a word with him? Get that sorted.
'It's a joke' [Ananova] - also condemns Atomic Kitten songs as 'forgettable', apparently not noticing that they're two decades old and going strong...

OUT OF SPACE?: Curious goings on at cheerfull scouse chancers Space's camp. The much-much-much delayed new album remains delayed - wrangles with former label Gut are blamed, but the band were on the point of releasing it a while ago, which suggests they might have solved them. Instead, Gut produced a best of. More curious yet, the official space site has been closed down and now points to a fan site. Curious all round, and a pity, since we sort of miss them.