Bookmarks: Now That's What I Call Music

The American edition of Now That's What I Call Music has reached its fiftieth edition. The Washington Post has a spreadsheet listing every track, from Janet Jackson to American Authors.

Benjamin Wheeland has a Spotify playlist that so far has the tracks from the first 49 albums; I suspect the 50th album tracklists will be added in the near future.

Fuller swoops for EMI offcuts

There's a clutching of handkerchiefs to mouths at the news that Simon Fuller might buy the bits of EMI regulators are making Universal sell as the price of merger.

Fuller! Imagine! He did the S Clubs and game show pop stars! The very idea.

And, yes, the idea of an already rich and poweful man becoming a bit more rich and powerful is hard to celebrate.

But there's actually an upside, which does make the idea of Fuller rummaging in the EMI bins something we should welcome.

First of all, he's apparently thinking of buying all the bits - Mute, Parlophone, the 50% of Now Thats What I Call Music - the whole lot, rather than taking a couple of bits.

It'd actually be enough, surely, to count as a fairly considerable label in its own right; and still based firmly in the UK. Wasn't the loss of that something we were meant to mourn when EMI was sold off?

Also, whatever Simon Fuller's other faults, he is a pop music man. Isn't it better for Parlophone to be owned by the bloke who put together S Club 7 than Guy Hands and his Motorway Service Station business? Or, indeed, than Universal, a tiny part of a conglomerate that might have spun off its water business but still doesn't seem to moved on from pushing sewage about?

It would be lovely to think Parlophone could be turned into a worker's co-op, or Mute become a John Lewis style concern, but that's unlikely to happen. Also, can you imagine the meetings when Chris Martin started to pipe up?

So, the whole thing in the hands of a man who understands how to sell music? Could be worse.

And at least it's not Cowell.

Now that's what I call throwing your weight about

The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing had been enjoying some success with their Now That's What I Call Steampunk album.

Enough success, indeed, to bring down the ire of EMI upon their behatted heads. As Steampunk Chronicle, erm, chronicles it:

It seems that EMI records have taken offense with Now That's What I Call Steampunk, Vol.1, the 2010 release by British steamrockers The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing. EMI has copyright on the name "Now That's What I Call Music" and has also released other compilations under the "Now That's What I Call" moniker.

The album was yanked off iTunes, and the band have reluctantly renamed the record The Steampunk Album That Cannot Be Named For Legal Reasons.

But hold on a moment - how can EMI claim to own "Now That's What I Call..." in its entirety?

As Wikipedia (correctly, in this case) points out:

The series took its name from a 1920s advertising poster hanging in an office for Danish meat products which showed a pig listening to a whistling cockerel.

So EMI claim to own copyright on a phrase they pinched from an out-of-copyright work by someone else entirely.

I suspect they would insist their claim is based on trademarks rather than copyright, but it's still a bit rich to rip off soembody's advertising slogan and then say that nobody else can do the same.

[Thanks to Scary Boots for the tip]

Now that's a barely-thought out idea

Simon Fuller is trying to turn Now That's What I Call Music into a TV show, reports Billboard. How do you turn 'some recent hit records' into a TV show, exactly? Sure, you could just play some recent hit records, but that's not quite a format, is it?

"The TV show is designed to take the brand 'Now' and bring it to a broader level," says Bob Mercer, CEO of Now That's What I Call Music, a partnership involving Sony Music Entertainment, Universal Music Group and EMI Music. (Warner Music Group has a competing product called "Only Hits.")

"A lot of people are buying 'Now' as their guide to what is happening in the music world over the last few months," Mercer says. "The intent is to take that brand and that trust in that brand and establish it as a TV show with the same elements."

Bob, mate: if you think people buy Now albums as a "guide to what's happening" - rather than as a cheap way of hoovering up a lot of hits they already know they like - you might want to step down from developing a programme based on the brand.

That, he suggests, could mean featuring performances by artists from the compilations, whether through concert footage or in-studio appearances. "We'll probably form our own pop chart so the public can be involved," Mercer adds.

Ah, yes. It'd be a great idea to make a pop chart of your own - where the public can show what music they like - rather than, erm, using an existing pop chart which shows what music the public likes.

Another element of the show would involve appearances by such veteran acts as the Rolling Stones or Madonna, possibly through interviews, performance footage or in-studio appearances, he says.

Oh yes. Interviews with the Rolling Stones. That would be exactly what someone whose defining musical purchase is to buy a compilation of recent chart hits would want to watch on television. "Wow, hearing some crumbly old dude talking about playing songs before my parents were born really captures the spirit of getting an album with Britney Spears and Lady GaGa hits on it."

Having spent some time stressing that - although coming from the American Idol stable, this programme would be in no way like American Idol at all, Bob then reveals his master stroke:

The program's final aspect would involve finding the next "Now" artists, Mercer says: "That would be new up-and-coming talent that's either already signed or just as likely not already signed."

And how would you find these bands - by having a team of experts go out and listen to groups and singers in clubs and bars? Or... and here's a guess... would this be some sort of interactive strap on?

The show's Web site will play a critical role in its development, Mercer says, adding that a section of it will be devoted to videos that people upload of themselves trying out for the show.

Ah. So, that's creaky old acts being interviewed, people you've never heard of doing songs you don't know - it's almost as if you'd taken the simple 'chart music with all the dull stuff edited out' format of Now and deliberately tried to create a TV show that was the polar opposite.

Simon Fuller, though, has one final pitch to throw onto the table:

"'Now' is a good, existing example of the music industry working together," Fuller says. "This show will unite the whole music industry and give it one voice."

So, let's just examine that: The music industry is united in working on the Now records. And yet, somehow, they're not united, because they need a television show to do that. That makes... some sort of sense. Probably.

It's a touching idea, though, that the music industry needs to be united. Who knows, if this is a success, perhaps this previously dissolute business sector might think about forming some sort of permanent representative organisation to act as an umbrella group for their interests. Let's just hope if that happens they don't go insane with the power and start trying to sue their own customers or anything.

Gennaro Castaldo Watch: Provincial perspective

The 25th anniversary of Now That's What I Call Music - and the "collector's edition" re-release of the first edition is a trigger for the Northamptonshire Evening Telegraph to think back over the decades. And who better to call for a catch-all thought or two on compilation albums than Gennaro Castaldo?

Gennaro Castaldo, of HMV Kettering, says the Now series has become an institution among music fans.

Hang about... "of HMV Kettering"? Have times got so hard at HMV that their Chief Quote Executive is having to pull a few shifts out in the regions? Or do all the branches have their own Gennaro Castaldo, perhaps stored alongside the promotional cut-outs which managed to get to the end of their sales period without being stolen by local youths?

Still, Gennaro Castaldo-Kettering, share your thoughts:

He said: "I think prior to Now! there were not really any compilation albums featuring the original songs."

Clearly, this can't be the London Castaldo, who would never say anything so obviously false. What about the Chart Hits collections, for example? Or Motown Chartbusters, come to that?

"There used to be some fairly cheesy compilation LPs such as Ronco, which featured currents songs but performed by someone else. Now! came along and effectively created a whole new genre that was original songs by the artists we heard on the radio."

Eh? Now might have weaponised the genre, but the suggestion that before 1983 there was only Top Of The Pops style cover version collections is absurd.

"At the time there were not many other ways of getting those songs so to suddenly get them all on an LP or CD was a great innovation and people responded to that. They were collections of the best songs of the year so if you were a real fan of popular music the job was being done for you."

If you were a real fan of popular music, you'd presumably buy the singles - Now, surely, was designed for the people who quite liked pop but not to the extent that they wanted the music when it came out. And surely only the first Now was a "best songs of the year" collection, given that the second one came out in April 1984?

"For years sales of compilation albums started to slow and the advent of downloading meant you could create your own playlist but we have found Now!, in particular, has remained resilient because someone has done that work for you."

You've done the "someone has done the work for you" bit already.

"Now! is a strong brand and is part of the culture that also gave us Top of the Pops and the Sunday chart rundown. It represents a fantastic snapshot of the most popular songs of the time and has become something of a collectors' item."

The first dozen or so are actually only a snapshot of some of the most popular songs on EMI and Virgin, but you take the point.

Incidently, the Evening Telegraph seems convinced that the whole thing was Richard Branson's idea:

It was the brainchild of Richard Branson, who was boss of Virgin Records at the time.

He was chairing a meeting in his office when the revolutionary suggestion was made that they release all their hit singles of that year on one album. Better still, if they got EMI involved they could make it a double album.

The name of the album came from a poster on Branson's wall for Danish Bacon Factories, which featured a cartoon pig craning his ear to the sound of a cockerel with the accompanying caption 'Now that's what I call music'.

Surely not even Richard Branson would try to claim that? Stephen Navin, John Webster and Simon Draper cooked up the idea, surely?. If only we had our own Gennaro Castaldo to hand, we could check.

Now that's what I call an awkward point of confusion

The BPI pop up in the Daily Mail, praising the ongoing success of compilations and, especially, Now Thats What I Call Music:

BPI chief Geoff Taylor said: 'The ongoing success of the Now albums may surprise some in a digital age of abundant choice, but it's become a well-loved brand.

'Digital music promises huge potential, but music fans still love the quality, convenience and added value in CDs.

'Retail conditions are challenging in the credit crunch, but music is great value for money and with one of the strongest album release schedules we've had for years, labels are optimistic about the market leading up to Christmas.'

But... hang about: isn't buying an album that's just cherry-picked the singles a little like simply cherry-picking the singles from a download store? Weren't we all meant to be respecting the integrity of the artists album format?