I’m not sure what year it was, but everybody was young. The crowd was… well, let’s say the crowd was just one person. Me. I was front and center with a bag of popcorn, close enough to the footlights to feel the heat. The concert that changed my life was about to begin and all I knew was that I wanted to hear some music. House lights down, the curtain parted, somewhere in the building an idiot complained about the wrong-sized bread.

The opening acts were a classic rock revue- not the shit that classic rock stations play now. Van Halen is not classic rock; Eddie learned his moves from these guys. Steppenwolf, The Who, and The Guess Who played back-to-back short sets, reminding all that you can still rock without auto-tune or makeup. I was in high school, but these guys wrote these songs decades earlier. Once the drums had exploded, the roadies dragged them offstage and brought out the evening’s first headlining act.

Like a curveball nailing a batter smack in the ear, the concert shifted to Contemporary Christian music. I shit you not, Jars of Clay started off with that one song that got played everywhere. At this point I was in college and the popcorn was already half empty. Dan said thank you and made his exit, just as the man himself walked on with a guitar. He was three feet tall and smiling like some kind of weird celtic punk-folk pixie. The rest of the band took their places and Caedmon’s Call started their set.

They didn’t just play a few songs, they performed a strange drama right in front of me. The beginning of the set did something Christian music’s not supposed to do: it made me think. And it made me dance (I must have looked weird, all alone in that front row). The band realized their mistake, I guess, and started playing the typical praise-and-worship crap. Only the diminutive one seemed as disappointed as I by the change in mood. By the end of their set, the house was silent and unmoving. The band quietly disassembled their gear and walked off stage right, but Derek Webb exited alone, stage left. He’d be back later.

For a long time there was nothing. It was as though the stage manager realized they’d booked the wrong lineup and was scrambling to put together another show right then and there. When finally the stage lights went up again there was a tall skinny guy like me standing at the mic. Train played three whole albums worth of material while I watched. I didn’t mind, I was out of college and hated my job; I had nothing better to do. With Pat’s voice still ringing out in the theater, they performed a no-huddle play and switched to Jason Mraz. I got out a notepad so I could keep on top of the linguistic swordplay.
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Just a quick little update with some shiny things to look at. First of all, congratulations to Ian Boswell for winning my “I Blame The Spy” Video Contest. You’ve just picked up a free All-Access Pass for one year with this video:

And then there’s a little something I put together from Megaplex 2009. The venue had a camera on me the whole time, so I threw this up on YouTube to share with the world. Feel free to spread it around!

I know, I know, I’m not a dad yet… but PJ Mullen over at dad-blogs.com wanted to interview me and I was only too happy to oblige. Here’s a brief excerpt from our little chat:

Well, podcasting is an interesting thing. I jumped on board when it was shiny and new. From 2004 to about 2006 or 2007, all the creative types and new media geeks out there were really hopped up about it…

Cut to 2009 and people realize that podcasting isn’t an overnight revolution… Corporations aren’t pouring hundreds of thousands of dollars into the pockets of anyone who can print out a “New Media Consultant” business card.

You can read the whole thing over at http://www.dad-blogs.com/the-blogs/music/the-crossroads/634-center-stage-matthew-ebel.html

Plans for backpacking over the Independence Day Weekend were thunderstormed out, but pockets of outdoor-friendly weather popped up here and there. Aaron and I went biking in lieu of hiking and took a few photos in the process…
[flickr]set:72157621094074937(thumbnail)[/flickr]
Also had a relaxing, pyrotastic and marhmallowriffic afternoon hanging out with C.C. Chapman, Chris Penn, Chel Pixie, Cass, Kim, and of course Roxie and Abe. And others! It was marvelous, exactly what I needed. Thanks, C.C., for opening your house (and a few beers). I’ve never eaten a bacon blanket before.

As I mentioned earlier, I was interviewed by CD Baby’s Kevin Breuner for the CD Baby DIY Podcast. After a bit of tactful delay (read: time to promote the episode), it’s finally online and available for listening! It’s all about UStream and how indie musicians (like me) can spread the word via live video.

Update: If you like the podcast, btw, PLEASE go to iTunes and leave a comment!

You can subscribe to the show or get more info at www.cdbabypodcast.com or listen to the episode here:
Download MP3

I give Nickelback a lot of crap, I know. I also know that 3.7 gazillion people love that band. I hold up acts like Nickelback and Miley Cyrus as shining examples of boring, tepid major label waste product (which they are). Is it because they’re not edgy enough for me? No, there are plenty of bands that are edgy to the point where I can’t listen to them. The entire punk genre, for example, or some of Ben Folds‘ earlier work. Just because something is too misshapen to fit in the focus-group approval box doesn’t mean it’s good either.

I propose that music is like any other recipe; there are main ingredients and there are accents. A plain lump of chicken breast (Nickelback) is not, by itself, a meal. If all you ate were plain chicken breasts your taste buds would most likely atrophy and fall off your tongue. On the other hand, a diet consisting entirely of black peppercorns (punk) would burn your mouth and leave you starving to death.

This, I believe, is an oversight on the part of most major labels and some indie artists. So that mellow, 90-bpm rock song sold 20 million round discs. It’s a good cut of meat, sure, but it’s only one part of the meal. You don’t want the entire album (or the band’s entire catalog) to sound like that one market-ready radio-friendly überhit ’cause the fans will get bored.

Here’s a secret: The artists will too. Most artists (songwriters at least) have a diverse range of output. This is what drives guys like Garth Brooks to become Chris Gaines or George Carlin to be Mr. Conductor. An artist’s output should reflect their humanity as a whole, not just the radio-friendly side or the dirty underground side. An album, especially, should sound like a well-balanced meal tastes.

If you don’t believe me, open up a restaurant that serves only unflavored pasta and chicken. Let me know how that goes for you.

With all due respect to Scott Bourne, birds do indeed dream. No, not of fish… at least, not all the time. Some of them dream of music, lights, smoke, and Robot Bass Players.

Wait, what?

A fan of my weekly UStream shows sent me this fabulous piece of original art a couple days ago and, with permission, I’m posting it here. This is one of the single most impressive chunks of awesome anyone’s ever thrown at me. Not only did Stampy catch my fascination with osprey, my laptop with red case and sticker, my M-Audio keyboard, and even the ugly-ass Exit sign that lived behind me at my New Hampshire gigs, but check out the robot playing bass behind me.

Yup, that’s Prodo-1, my faithful co-host from High Orbit and snarky sidekick from Goodbye Planet Earth.

It’s stuff like this that reminds me why I do what I do. Thank you, Stampy, and all the others that have been sending in photos and art! Birds dream of having fans like you.

rev⋅o⋅lu⋅tion [rev-uh-LOO-shuhn] –noun

2. Sociology. a radical and pervasive change in society and the social structure
3. a sudden, complete or marked change in something

dictionary.reference.com

Back in the days when High Orbit was a weekly show, I named the spaceship the UTF Revolution. In those days there was an air of excitement, even fanaticism, about podcasting and downloads and new technology. The discovery that people could make and deliver content beyond the confines of TV, radio, and newspapers electrified the internet crowd. We called it a revolution. If the revolution started in 2004, it’s only beginning to come to a head now.

Revolutionary Communication

[flickr align='left' class='alignleft' hspace='5']photo:2602427250(thumbnail)[/flickr]If you’re reading this, chances are good you’re a fan of my music. You didn’t hear me on the radio, you didn’t see me on some prime-time contest show. You heard me on a podcast, in a virtual world, or on live video. I am doing nothing special; I am merely putting my music out there wherever I can. It is you who drive the revolution every time you use these channels. You make the choice to spend your time outside the pre-fab information streams set up by Rupert Murdoch and Robert Iger.

The past five years may have made this revolution seem… well, less revolutionary. After all, we’re not as jazzed up about the miracle of flight now that we can hop a shuttle from NY to Boston for less than a hundred bucks. Make no mistake about it, however, you are committing an act of rebellion with every new channel you support. The record labels and major networks are starting to realize they cannot make money anymore. Soon they will realize the nagging truth that some of us have been shouting from the town square for years: The artists and the fans no longer need them.

Revolutionary Thinking

Is that true? Are record labels obsolete? The answer isn’t a matter of sales figures or Billboard charts. The future of the revolution is in your mind. You must understand that as long as the old-media channels still claim a foothold in your brain, they are controlling you.

Here’s a revolutionary question:

If you’re a fan of my music, are you wondering when I’m going to get “discovered” by a record label?

If so, those record labels still control your brain. You are still chained down by a world where big companies decide what music is legitimate and what music is “just indie”. As the mon once said, “emancipate yourself from mental slavery.” Good videos don’t need a TV network, good news doesn’t need radio towers, and good music does not need a record label.

YOU are my record label. Yes, you. Do you like my music? Then my music is legitimate. I don’t need some guy in a crisp suit to own 80% of my artwork to make it good. All I need is for you to understand that as soon as you become a fan, you become part of my record label.

Revolutionary Action

[flickr align='left' class='alignleft' hspace='5']photo:2287769640(thumbnail)[/flickr]That’s right, you’re part of my record label. You are also your own TV and radio network. You are working for the best media conglomerate ever created; you contribute only what time and effort you see fit, you cannot be fired, and you are part of something truly revolutionary. In fact, depending on your iTunes playlist, you probably work for so many different record labels right now that your resumé should be 40 pages long. This revolution, however, cannot survive without action.

If you want to keep the revolution fueled, you have a few responsibilities (I’m not going to call them a manifesto, that’d be beating a dead analogy at this point).

• Evict the corporations from your mind.
  They aren’t the ones buying the music, YOU are. You are in control.
• Small sacrifices must be made.
  Have you bought an album? Picked up your favorite show’s official shirt/mug/chia pet? Congratulations, you are now a shareholder in the revolution.
• Grab your bullhorn.
  The #1 thing you can do to support your favorite artists and shows is spread the word about them. Whether they’re on a major label or not, all musicians need that key action from their fans.
• Show up for the battles.
  For musicians, it’s about live concerts and release parties. For podcasters, it’s the live recording events. Whatever division of the revolution you’re fighting with, they need warm bodies to man the barricades.
• Communicate, communicate, communicate!
  The artists, producers, and revolutionaries are only as good as their supporters make them. Talk to them. Comment on their blog posts, post your photos/videos in their Flickr group or Facebook page. Tell them what you like, what you don’t like, and most importantly where you want this revolution to go.

The Revolution Grows

Some of us have been a part of this revolution for years. Some of us just discovered yesterday that you can turn a Mac Mini into an entertainment center (yes, that’s a link to a how-to video). However long you’ve been a part of the revolution, make no mistake: the battle rages on. Until we’ve completely killed the notion that a show, artist, or band needs a major corporate partner to be considered “legitimate”, we are still subject to an oppressive regime.

Make the change happen. Take action, and long live the revolution!

I’ve got this whole two-species vibe going ever since I was 14. I’ve had an unnatural fascination with birds that has spilled over from my personal life into my professional life.

A significant portion of you are familiar with this little dichotomy. I’ve been featured at a few Furry conventions over the years and my popularity among the animal-savvy seems to be growing. The fact that some of my Second Life fans still haven’t seen me in person as a human makes for a unique image to uphold. There are a lot of people, however, who just want to hear the music.

For the “normal” people out there, I’m just your average piano rocker trying to eke out a living in the music business. I can’t exactly hide my fascination with the Pandion Haliaetus, but fortunately most of you don’t seem to be weirded out by it. I’m not the guy with the ears and tail at the shopping mall, nor am I anything you’ve read about in Vanity Fair or seen on TV. If you’d like to compare me to those freak shows, I will happily find the choicest representatives of your hobbies or religions and write about them for you.

No, I’ve just had the usual fascination with animals and, in particular, Osprey. When I was younger (up to and including last week) I spoke to an imaginary friend- a 6-foot tall humanoid osprey. I even wrote a musical incorporating a friend of his as my senior project in college. I spent over a decade writing a 400-page novel about the world my avian friend comes from… I’m hoping that someday I can share it with you, but it needs some serious revisions that I just can’t focus on right now.

When you consider that anthropomorphism has played a major role in everything from religions to sporting events for thousands of years, it should surprise no one that some of us feel drawn to an animal that represents something we admire or covet. If you think this is odd, you haven’t taken a look at your favorite sports teams recently- chances are good they’re represented by an animal. So is your local gas station. Jesus Christ was called both a lion and a lamb, depending on the verse. We name our attack helicopters and fighter jets after birds of prey and Indian tribes. For that matter, those Indian tribes believe in spirits personified by the animals from their surrounding territory.

It honestly makes me sad when I encounter people who don’t entertain these kinds of concepts. If all you’ve thought about are things you’ve seen in this world, you are living in a very limited space. You’re trapped in a studio apartment with no windows- you may be content with your surroundings and your life, but I believe you suffer from an imaginative agoraphobia. Once you’ve seen what’s outside the walls of normality, you might wonder how you existed before.

Do I write songs about birds? Not a whole lot. I’ve written about cows more often than I’ve written about birds, to be honest. I write about what I experience, and I haven’t experienced birdness yet. The bird thing is more of a constant fascination- something that I feel drawn to in a way that I just can’t quantify. I wish I could be a bird, that’s for certain, but until I disappear in a cloud of feathers I want my fans to understand one of my long-term fixations. It’s a fun world to immerse myself in from time to time, and it affects my daily life in tiny ways I’m not aware of.

What are you drawn to? What’s the little non-sequitir that exists in your daily life, making things a bit more interesting? How are you using that?

Update: I love hearing from all of my friends who already get this stuff, but if you’re a “normal” person and are a bit shy about commenting, please respond to this anyway!

Dear President Obama,

If you haven’t already enlisted Jon Stewart and P.J. O’Rourke to become cabinet-level advisers, please consider it. P.J. just made a hell of a lot more sense on a comedy show than you did explaining why I now own 60% of General Motors.

The reason we’ve always had a love affair with big, strong, powerful cars is simple: They represent a fantasy, a virility, that mortal men simply do not possess. It’s the same reason idiots buy tigers as pets.

So please, Mr. President, instead of purchasing a company that has ignored common sense and built bigger, more gas-sucking (and generally sucking) scrap heaps, can we purchase something that will reinstate our vicarious virility? To belabor the sex-appeal analogy, buying GM is like getting a boob job for an 80-year-old woman.

Why can’t we make Tesla Motors our new girlfriend? They’re not just an American car company, they’re making electric vehicles sexy. Like 0-60 in under 4 seconds sexy. Like fast enough to tear your clothes off but quiet enough not to scare the neighborhood sexy. In fact, I have only one question:

Which would cost the taxpayers more?

1. Paying for GM to design better cars, retool all of its factories to make better cars, wait while they take the time to make a new fleet of cars, and then hope they can actually sell enough of those cars to become profitable again.
2. Pay for Tesla to hire most of the old GM employees and subsidize battery costs for cars they’re already making and selling right now.

I await your answer, Mr. President. Whether or not we’d see any short-term profit from owning most of Tesla, I can guarantee we’d redefine what American car enthusiasts see as “sex appeal”. This is the new girlfriend we need, and she smells a lot prettier than her predecessor.

Sincerely,
Matthew Ebel
Taxpayer

Update: Apparently Tesla IS getting some money from the bailout.