Reverb: RIP Tony Wilson

Monday, August 20th, 2007

tony wilson

It’s time to say goodbye to another iconoclast of popular music.

Anthony Michael Wilson died of a heart attack after a year-long battle with cancer on Friday at the age of 57. Tony Wilson, as he is better known, was the founder of Factory Records and helped foster a generation of ground-breaking music from the post-punk era to the beginnings of the Manchester rave scene in England. Despite a number of innaccuracies, the 2002 film “24-Hour Party People” gave an entertaining and loving look at the man and the often madcap circumstances that his career was founded upon. If you haven’t seen it, rent it. Tonight.

In the mid-70s, Wilson was a very minor television personality who, after seeing the Sex Pistols in concert, began to champion the underground nightlife that was largely ignored by the mainstream media. Particularly in the Manchester area, he began promoting various nightclub events and live shows. Tony Wilson teamed with Alan Erasmus, a local band manager, Martin Hannett, a talented and wildly eccentric record producer, and Peter Saville, a brilliantly gifted graphic designer and artist. This eventually led to the founding of Factory Records in 1978. Saville provided the aesthetic—streamlined and edgy—that defined everything Factory did. Hannett provided the sound—stark and modern—that was instantly recognizable and infinitely plagiarized throughout the 80s. Together with Erasmus, Wilson brought the hype. He had the vision, even if Factory’s bankroll didn’t always measure up to his aspirations.

The number and quality of the bands that Factory helped break is impressive to this day. Although many have become a footnote in the history of post-punk, names like Joy Division, New Order, A Certain Ratio, ESG, Cabaret Voltaire, and The Happy Mondays still resonate today in large part because of the efforts of Tony Wilson. He gave a leg up to bands that ranged from out of the ordinary to truly extraordinary. In 1982, Factory and New Order opened the Hacienda nightclub. It was to become the hub of Manchester’s music scene throughout the 80s and the birthplace of English rave music in the early 90s. Although it was never a success in terms of turning a dollar (or a pound, as the case may be), it was a boon for the music scene in England, which had been in a bit of a freefall since the death of punk. And it allowed young local bands to share a stage with legends like Section 25 and Durutti Column.

In many ways, Tony Wilson was simultaneously a great businessman, and a terrible one. Not one to be tied down by the wild monetary swings of Factory Records, he was always dreaming of the next giant step, and God bless him, he usually had the gumption to make it a reality. In the late 80s, when Factory Records began to take a financial nosedive, London Records expressed an interest in purchasing the label and its catalog. Until they found out the catalog was practically non-existent. Wilson had allowed most of the bands to own their own master recordings and never signed proper contracts with nearly all of them. Nevertheless, Wilson kept all of Factory’s endeavors looking top-notch, up until its eventual bankruptcy in late 1992.

People who knew Tony Wilson seemed to have differing opinions of him, usually based on the outcome of their dealings with him. But if it’s any indication, visit some of the bands’ sites I’ve linked to throughout this piece, and you’ll notice that virtually all of them have posted something expressing sadness over Tony’s passing. Whatever might be said about the man, he knew good music when he heard it…and he knew how to throw one hell of a party.

Go to the original post to sample more than a few Wilson-related gems.
Wilson YouTubed here.

pictured above: New Order’s “Blue Monday” 12-inch single, Joy Division’s “Unknown Pleasures”, (l-r) Peter Saville, Tony Wilson, and Alan Erasmus

If you enjoy these tunes, tune into my radio show on kxlu 88.9fm 10a-2p every monday. we’re also streaming live at www.kxlu.com.

The privatization mystique

Monday, August 20th, 2007

surowiecki.png

That’s James Surowiecki. He may not look like much— or rather, he looks a lot like what he is: a great business and finance writer who has made a living reporting on malfeasance and corruption in the corporate world. He’s now a staff writer for the New Yorker and this week he wrote a column on the boondoggle that is the big business of student loans, a “scandal” that appears less like a scandal than mere business as usual—which of course is the real scandal. The story has garnered a lot of press but Surowiecki’s short piece is one of the best things produced on it yet, mainly for the way he frames the topic.

“Why are we stuck with this corrupt and inefficient system?” he asks. “In part, it’s ideology: the dominance of what you might call the privatization mystique—the idea that anything the government can do, the private sector can do better.”

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reverb: music from los angeles & beyond

Monday, August 20th, 2007

Max Roach 1924 - 2007

The problem with music geeks (and yes, I am speaking as one) is that we tend to formulate these hard, fast rules about what makes a good artist or band. Many times, these rules hold up. There’s so much music out there, you have to be discriminating and if you’ve been around it long enough, you learn that often times you can judge a book (or record) by its cover.

One rule that most music lovers would probably agree on is that a good band should be good on recording AND in a live setting. Many times, even better in a live setting. Normally, I would also adhere to this belief. I have seen shows that made me an even bigger fan of a band I already liked. And I have seen shows on more than one occasion that actually diminished my affinity for an artist because they were so lackluster live. You get all excited to see a band whose record you’ve been loving, and then they come to town and stink up the place.

I’ll go ahead and say it: Ulrich Schnauss is TERRIBLE live. One man. One laptop. That’s it. The joke about live electronic acts who look like they’re checking their email onstage was probably originated by someone after seeing an Ulrich Schnauss show. But… the man makes INCREDIBLE records.

I held off on reviewing this newest record, Goodbye, until I’d really had a chance to give it the proper time it deserves. I’m glad I did, because it more than lives up to my expectations. I first fell in love with Schnauss’s music on his 2003 album, A Strangely Isolated Place. I couldn’t get enough of that record. It’s a truly beautiful piece of music. Of course, I got excited to see him live when I saw that he was coming to The Knitting Factory. I went, even though KCRW presented the show (always the earmark of bad things to come), and left halfway through because I was bored to tears. Normally, this would’ve ended my love affair with a record. But Ulrich’s music is that good… it drew me right back in.

Goodbye, Schnauss’s newest release, is headphone music at its finest. If somebody walks into the room while you’re halfway into this album, they will startle the bejeezus out of you, because you will have just been deep in a distant place. Goodbye picks up right where Ulrich left off in 2003, which was a continuum of the sound established on 2001’s Far Away Trains Passing By. This is to be the last in a “trilogy” of sorts, so it’s perfect that the songs on Goodbye are a bit more epic and rushing. These songs are vast and they will fill your imagination completely. Put on your best headphones and close your eyes…

…and Mr. Schnauss: Please find a band when you play the Troubadour on Oct. 5. Thank you.

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If you’re one of those people who believes that celebrities die in threes, then I guess your trifecta is complete. Tony Wilson, Merv Griffin, and as of Thursday, Mr. Max Roach. Possibly one of the most renown drummers in jazz, or any genre, Roach passed away at the age of 83 and left behind an enormously prolific body of work.

I bought Money Jungle when I worked in a record store several years back. Originally released on Blue Note in 1962, I picked it up because it featured Duke Ellington and Charles Mingus. But as good as those two were, the trio wouldn’t have been the utter perfection it was without Max Roach on drums. After discovering this record, I soon found that he’d played with every notable great in the jazz world: Duke, Dizzy, Miles, Charlie Parker, you name ‘em. Roach defined and redefined what a drummer could be, in jazz or any musical form for that matter. He was a bandleader, a writer, an activist, and the very epitome of what a musician can be. May he always swing… forever.

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If you enjoy these tunes, tune into my radio show on kxlu 88.9fm 10a-2p every monday. we’re also streaming live at www.kxlu.com.