Talk about yours.
Talk about yours.
That’s how I was introduced to Bob Crane, a short mention of his name in a Punk Rock song. Mr. Crane is celebrated as one of the first things/person I “searched” for on the internet when dial-up online searches became available. As a photographer and always creeped out by Richard Dawson on FAMILY FUED, the mystery and intrigue of Bob and his death thrilled. What happened!
Don’t fall asleep jealous, stay up and watch Auto Focus (A biography about a photographer who appeared in a sitcom about the Holocaust) with me. Hey, Willem Dafoe is creepy!
My Birthday is May 29th, and this may be the fucking greatest gift EVER.
Songs carry emotional information and some transport us back to a poignant time, place or event in our lives. It’s no wonder a corporation would want to hitch a ride on the spell these songs cast and encourage you to buy soft drinks, underwear or automobiles while you’re in the trance. Artists who take money or ads poison and pervert their songs. It reduces them to the level of a jingle, a word that describes the sound of change in your pocket, which is what your songs become. Remember, when you sell your songs for commercials, you are selling your audience as well.
When I was a kid, if I saw an artist I admired doing a commercial, I’d think, “Too bad, he must really need the money.” But now it’s so pervasive. It’s a virus. Artists are lining up to do ads. The money and exposure are too tantalizing for most artists to decline. Corporations are hoping to hijack a culture’s memories for their product. They want an artist’s audience, credibility, good will and all the energy the songs have gathered as well as given over the years. They suck the life and meaning from the songs and impregnate them with promises of a better life with their product.
Eventually, artists will be going onstage like race-car drivers covered in hundreds of logos. John, stay pure. Your credibility, your integrity and your honor are things no company should be able to buy.