I had an interesting lunch hour today, bumping into two local music heads who got me thinking about the “value” of a recording — both intrinsically and in today’s market.
First, I spent a few minutes rapping with Chuck Carroll over at Edward McKay on Battleground, after stopping by to put up a last minute show poster for tomorrow night’s gig.
Seeing all the CD’s in bins, with a packed parking lot outside and scores of young(er) people browsing the store, absolutely yanked my gray matter back to 1986.
Back then, I’d hang out at Crazy Rhythms record store after school, buying music either via stolen quarters from my Dad’s NJ Parkway toll jar or using up my meager allowance. If I was broke, which was the majority of the time, I’d just be lounging to check out what was new.
It was an experience just to be there.
Chuck, a manager at EM and a DJ at WQFS, happened to be available this afternoon to chat, so I on-the-fly pitched him a few distribution/co-sponsorship ideas about getting DMP compilation CD’s onto his shelves.
The Real World Blues
It’s not that Chuck isn’t into the concept of the project or a supporter of local music, but as soon as we started talking numbers, it became obvious that he had a hard time picturing an investment in more than just a few CDs at a time.
Before you comment, yes, I know this is 2008 and not 1988. FREE is a major part of our strategy to get the word out. But no matter the degree to which reality has camped out in my skull, there’s simply a draw, an indescribable allure, in making music available in a tangible format — particularly in an environment where two people can share in the vibe of the transaction of taking it home.
And that takes material production, which costs money.
So now that our online approach is somewhat standardized, I’m beginning to focus on the challenges surrounding the production and distribution of DMP compilation CDs — particularly, how best to collaborate with local institutions to make them readily available to people within the community.
The interesting angle of this particular business problem lies in figuring out how production costs can be covered with a barter approach, similar to how the media was created in the first place through the barter between artists.
Essentially, co-marketing each other.
What value can we provide a business for their percentage investment in the production of the CDs and their management of distribution to customers?
I’m thinking that if we can work with a number of supportive local businesses — coffee shops, book stores, bars, etc. — to offset the production costs, we can then divvy up the CDs to be made available in those same spots for either a low cost (a $5 CD where the profits go to the retail shop) or free with a swap of an email address (which we’d add to our Google Group or similar).
And all of this depends on how cool both the bands and the businesses are with the idea. I’m not interested in making coin in this process, but unless we find some hardcore music loving establishments, coin is what speaks to most businesses. And then once money becomes a part of the picture, the deal gets much more intricate.
We’ll see where this all goes.
Is It Live Or Is It Memorex?
After speaking with Chuck, I headed over to Earth Fare to hang another poster and ran into the venerable Kathy Clark. I mentioned my conversation with Chuck and that sparked a parking lot discussion about the live albums we’ve put out to date.
Kathy spent some time over the last few days reviewing the six live albums I brought to her show last Friday, and in the end, was only truly impressed by the Citified album.
It wasn’t the quality of the recordings that threw her off, but the actual performances of the bands on the recordings. A missed line here, not singing into the mic there, a bad fill in-between, you know, the realities of a live performance. Citified was by far the tightest band we’ve put on so far, so that aligned with her expectations of listening to an album.
I enjoy studio recordings just as much as the next music fan, but the studio creates a level of controlled perfection that’s hardly ever replicated at a live show — unless the band explicitly chooses to follow that creative line.
That said, the allure of a live album, to me, lies in the unplanned interactions with the audience, the fleeting moments of tightness that defies the very definition of a live performance and yes, the very warts that made Kathy cringe.

Photo by Stephen Charles
But I absolutely get where Kathy is coming from. I mean, would I romanticize these recordings in the same manner if I wasn’t as up close and personal with not only the show, but the bands and the entire process?
I don’t know. Probably not.
My goal in documenting and releasing this music — beyond exposing local artists to people who might never have checked them out in the first place — is to capture the realness of the show experience. But does the very process of recording live music alter the expected presentation of the art to a point where realness is no longer valuable?
Chew on that mind twister tomorrow night: Possum Jenkins w/ Tom Beardslee.