Column 145: Paging Blanche DuBois
Radiohead’s free download scheme.

Last week, Thom Yorke and the rest of his cronies in Radiohead had the clever idea of making their new album, In Rainbows, available to download for the price of, well, whatever you feel like paying.

As most of you know, music critics usually don’t pay for music, anyway. It just shows up in their mailboxes in manila-colored bubble-wrap envelopes. But not this time. Radiohead’s publicist, Nasty Little Man, sent an e-mail to the lowly critics saying there will be no advances, promo copies, digital streams, media sites, etc. of In Rainbows. “Everyone in the world will be getting the music at the same time: Oct. 10. That includes us,” the e-mail said. “Sorry.”

So I went online to radiohead.com and placed my order. After registering on the site (which includes entering a credit card number) I was met with a blank entry field presumably to enter a price. Click on the question mark next to the field and up pops a message saying, “It’s up to you,” followed by another question. Click the ? again and it says, “No really. It’s up to you.”

You have to enter something. You could enter 0.00 pounds. Look, I’ll be honest with you, while I think OK Computer is one of the seminal albums of the 1990s, Radiohead’s music just hasn’t done it for me since. Kid A and all the rest, while sporting some interesting electronic noises, were essentially retreads of the same dark stuff I’ve heard before, sung in Yorke’s yawning, half-awake vocal style. Unless I was knocked out by some early tracks or singles, I wasn’t going to pick up In Rainbows anyway. On the other hand, if I liked the download, there’s a chance I’ll buy the box set for 40 pounds, which includes something of actual value — vinyl copies of the recordings.

I entered 1.00 pound, and proceeded to complete my order. I was told I’ll be receiving a link to the download on Oct. 10.

On the surface, except for all the publicity, the idea looks like an unprofitable gimmick. How many people will simply enter 1 pence or nothing at all? But giving away music is hardly a new concept.

Back before Myspace became a monster, Conor Oberst’s record label, Team Love, allowed visitors to their website to download entire albums for free, including TL-01, Tilly and the Wall’s Wild Like Children. The idea, which also was well-publicized at the time (including a story in Business Week), was that if someone downloaded the disc and liked it, chances were pretty good that they’d own up and buy a copy of the CD. It was sort of an artistic honor system. Over the years, I’ve heard a broad range of the number of downloads for that album, most in the hundreds of thousands. Conversely, I’ve been told the CD sold in the 10s of thousands — that the downloads outnumbered sales by multiples ranging in the double digits.

Foolish loss? Hardly. Tilly and the Wall went on tour to support that download/disc to sizable crowds of folks who never purchased the CD but who had downloaded the tracks and dug what they heard. Maybe the band was out the price of the disc, but they got a little back from the price of the ticket.

These days, you can no longer download Wild Like Children or any other complete album from team-love.com. So much for the honor system.

Tilly actually isn’t a good example of the power of free downloads. After all, Wild was the first release by The New Dylan’s record label. The band had a built-in hype machine fueling it by the time it hit the road. But the idea was a sound one, at least from an indie perspective. If you’re a band headed out on tour that’s virtually unknown outside of your hometown — and you don’t want to play to a roomful of crickets — you better get your music heard somehow. You certainly can’t depend on radio these days. Your only solution: give away your music. Today, that’s done through Myspace (but even then, they still have to find you among the 3 million other bands online).

As a result of radiohead.com, pundits again are forecasting the downfall of record labels, record stores and the recording industry altogether. Is it really the end of the world? Hardly.

Yes, everyone will be a surprised at the success of Radiohead’s pay-whatever-you-want music folly. But don’t expect label-manufactured acts like Justin Timberlake or Kelly Clarkson or Kanye West to follow suit — though 50 Cent already has declared himself a “free agent” after his Interscope contract expires. Radiohead was in the same boat as Fitty — the band’s contract with Capitol expired after their last album, leaving them to become an indie band once again.

We could be seeing the creation of a new career arc for musicians. Bands start off as indies, hoping to can get signed by a reputable indie label with distribution. The goal: To someday graduate to a major label where, with help from a team of marketing wonks, they can blow up into a million seller. If they make it through the flesh machine all the way to the end of their contract — and still have a semblance of their dignity in tact — they can again become indie bands, this time in the truest sense of the word, and like Radiohead, come to depend on the kindness of strangers for their pay-off.

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Column 144: Labor of Love
Lincoln Calling enters year four.

First, this disclaimer made in the interest of full disclosure: Jeremy Buckley, the earnest, young entrepreneur, journalist and music expert who organizes the Lincoln Calling music festival is a contributing writer at The Reader, the paper you hold in your hands. No bias or favoritism was tolerated in the creation of this column (at least, not that much).

That said, Buckley is sort of a hero. This is the fourth year that he’s put together Lincoln Calling, and the only reward for all of his hard work has been a few nights of terrific music. He certainly hasn’t reaped any financial rewards, nor has he ever expected to.

“I’ve always wanted it to be something that the bands care about,” said the soft-spoken Buckley. “The goal is help bands get to know each other better, and build a sense of community.”

Past Lincoln Calling participants have included Neva Dinova, Tilly and the Wall, Criteria, The Prids, The Show is the Rainbow, For Against and dozens more. This year’s festival, which runs from Oct. 4-7, includes Maria Taylor, Head of Femur, Eagle*Seagull, Little Brazil, Charlie Burton & the Dorothy Lynch Mob, Capgun Coup and Flowers Forever. It is arguably the strongest line-up in the festival’s history.

“There’s more emphasis on Omaha and Lincoln bands this year,” Buckley said. “Of the 38 bands, only five or six are from out of state. We didn’t need to try to recruit from outside of Omaha and Lincoln because we have so many good bands here already.”

Buckley said another change this year was to reduce participating venues down to Lincoln’s “Big Four” — The Zoo Bar, Duffy’s Tavern, Knickerbockers and Box Awesome (formerly The Chatterbox). Two of the venues recently underwent serious cosmetic surgery. Box Awesome was dramatically remodeled by its new owners, who moved the stage from beneath the windows at the front of the 175-capacity venue all the way to the back of the long, narrow room.

“The sound is better, and there are no distractions from things going by outside the windows,” Buckley said.

Changes at Duffy’s, however, have been less well-received. Buckley said the owners recently built an elevator shaft that takes up a corner of the legendary venue’s stage. “Where it’s been placed is kind of unfortunate,” he said, explaining that the elevator allows access to stores on the building’s second floor. “From a money standpoint, it made sense. From a show-goers’ standpoint, it’s a frustration.”

Another frustration for Lincoln music-lovers has been a steady decrease in the number of big-name indie shows. Buckley said One Percent Productions — a major promoter of indie shows in Omaha — is booking fewer Lincoln shows these days. And Buckley doesn’t blame them.

“What do they have to gain by bringing anything to Lincoln?” he said. “Lincoln people will drive to Omaha for shows, but not as many Omaha people will drive here.”

For the record, Marc Leibowitz, who runs One Percent with business partner Jim Johnson, denies they’re booking fewer shows in the star city. “We’ve never done a ton of shows in Lincoln,” he said. “We’ve done a few each year.” Leibowitz said part of the reason Lincoln is overlooked is because the primary venues don’t allow all-ages shows. “Minors have to be out by 9 p.m., so most of our shows have to be 18+.” By contrast, Omaha venues can host all-ages shows with the proper policing of alcohol sales.

Buckley also admitted that the sheer number of quality venues in Omaha has made Lincoln a secondary market for touring bands. “Sadly, I go to a lot more shows in Omaha than Lincoln,” he said. “Lincoln doesn’t have anything like Slowdown and never will.”

Still, Buckley thinks Lincoln’s “big four” could easily draw as well as Omaha venues. “If you took the show schedule for The Waiting Room and slapped it onto Knickerbockers or Box Awesome, they would do well day in and day out,” he said.

Buckley hopes to prove that theory this weekend. Last year the three-day festival drew 1,350 attendees. This year’s Lincoln Calling has been expanded to four days, and Buckley hopes to draw at least 1,500. “The Saturday night Husker game should make things interesting,” he said. “We almost had to compete with a White Stripes concert on Thursday. It’s too bad that got canceled, but it’s also a blessing in disguise.”

Here’s the skinny: All shows are $5 except Maria Taylor ($8) and Head of Femur ($7) and the Thursday DJ session at Box Awesome, which is $3 for 18-20 and free for 21+. Early shows are labeled with times; late shows start around 9 p.m.

The Zoo Bar (136 No. 14th St.) Age 21+
10/4 The Tijuana Gigolos w/ Cory Kibler (6 p.m. show)
10/4 Cornerstone Dub w/ Executive Steel Band
10/5 Charlie Burton and the Dorothy Lynch Mob w/ The Bellflowers (5 p.m. show)
10/5 Matt Whipkey Three w/ Son of 76 and Sarah Benck
10/6 The Killigans w/ The Vandon Arms and Tenth Horse

Duffy’s Tavern (1412 O. St.) Age 21+
10/4 Domestica w/ Capgun Coup and Pharmacy Spirits
10/5 The Song Remains the Same
10/6 Ideal Cleaners w/ Gito Gito Hustler and Paper People
10/7 Head of Femur w/ Sit In Wait

Box Awesome (815 O St.) Age 18+
10/4 DJ Blac w/ Miss Knotty and Mattman
10/5 Bear Country w/ Flowers Forever, Goo Dance Party and Natalie Illeana
10/6 Somasphere w/ Flobots and Blue Martian Tribe

Knickerbockers (901 O. St.) Age 18+
10/4 Maria Taylor w/ Spring Gun and Good With Guns
10/5 The Balance w/ Tsumi
10/6 Eagle Seagull w/ Little Brazil and 1090 Club

Column 143: Bemis Calling
The arts organization welcomes Coyote Bones’ David Matysiak.

The last time we spoke to Coyote Bones’ David Matysiak (here) he was yacking about how he managed to get his pals from the Saddle Creek Records stable to help record his band’s debut, Gentleman on the Rocks. Now four months later, Matysiak is moving his studio out of one basement into another — this one located beneath the hip, prestigious Bemis Center for Contemporary Arts.

A walking, talking ball of red-bearded energy, Matysiak begins a residency with the Bemis’ music program Oct. 1, joining the ranks of former resident musicians Tilly and the Wall, Simon Joyner and Orenda Fink. He says it’s a chance to grow creatively, while musically retooling an idea borne out of the playground. At the same time, he’ll be working on a separate project that will outlive his three-month residency.

But first, the music residency itself: I’ve been reading about it for years, but never really understood the point. Aren’t residencies designed to give starving artists a place to live — a creative domicile — while they craft artwork which may or may not be commercially viable? That’s not the case with Bemis’ music program. Tilly, Joyner, Fink and Matysiak already have a place to lay their heads in River City.

Matysiak explained it all while pushing a candy-apple green Schwinn 10-speed through the entrance of Bemis Underground — the program’s basement headquarters.

“This is a place of creation,” he said, still sweating after riding from his apartment on 40th and Harney. “Unlike an apartment or house, I can come here at four in the morning and freak out and go ripping down the hallway. When you’re wandering around at 2 a.m., you run into other artists who can’t sleep. We share ideas; we’re all in this together.”

No, living quarters aren’t provided, but the residency offers more than just a practice space. It’s a place where musicians can try ideas that are off rock ‘n’ roll’s beaten path. Their projects — all reviewed and approved by a committee — are more like research projects, with little commercial appeal. Fink, Matysiak said, worked with found sounds recorded in Haiti. Joyner collaborated with avant-garde cellist-composer Fred Lonberg-Holm. And Matysiak has his “telephone project.”

Remember that playground game where you whisper a message into your playmate’s ear, who then told another, who told another, who told another, who then told you? The returning message never resembled the original. “I’ll be trying that with music on a worldwide basis,” Matysiak said. “I’ll send a recording to someone in Japan who will do his thing, than pass it onto someone in Australia and then South America and so on until it gets back to me. The idea is to see what can happen when you collaborate with people who can’t communicate without music.”

Matysiak already has set up equipment in Bemis’ “Studio B,” a messy white-walled artist space dedicated to the music program. It’s a windowless room where bits of creative residue hang from the walls or lie stacked on the floor, including a half-finished mural painted by the Tilly kids, still waiting for someone to fill in the lines.

Bemis’ music residency isn’t a “formal program,” said Residency Program Director Cary Tobin. “It all started when Tilly and the Wall was in need of a space and we happened to have a space in the Underground available,” Tobin said. “We invited them to use the space and it seemed to balance well with the other programs we have happening here.”

Tilly’s used their residency to develop demos used for their Bottoms of Barrels album, a project with obvious commercial potential, but the Bemis isn’t interested in making money off record sales. “The BCCA is not entitled to any revenue generated by any material that is produced in the studio. We receive no money from Tilly and the Wall or Simon Joyner on any of the sales of the record or material produced,” Tobin said.

Musicians have given back to the program through benefit concerts. Matysiak will give back in a different way. Across from Studio B, in what was once a large storage closet, Matysiak is building a permanent recording studio for the Bemis program using his and his friends’ equipment. “In the mean time, I’m asking the music community to donate equipment — instruments, microphones, guitars and trumpets, functional stuff that someone could actually use that you’d feel good about donating,” he said. “If someone has a nice vintage amp in their basement that’s collecting dust, why not donate it to help start this program?”

Residents will be able to use the studio to record their projects. Matysiak said it could also become like Daytrotter — the Rock Island, Ill. studio where touring indie bands such as The Rentals, Dave Dondero, Low and David Bazan, can drop in for two-hour sessions that become available for free download from daytrotter.com. Right now, though, it’s just an empty room with a stack of egg cartons lying on the ground, waiting to be nailed to the walls.

“This will be more of a low-fi atmosphere,” Matysiak said. “If nothing else, it’s a place to write music and a place for collaboration. There are so many things you can do. That’s why I like the Bemis. They’re open-minded. They’re always looking for new ideas and trying to find a way to make them work.”

Rustic Charm
Review: Two Gallants, Two Gallants (Saddle Creek)

If there’s a knock on Two Gallants, it’s that all their music sounds the same.

It’s an easy, lazy statement to make. It’s also easy to prove. Take someone who’s never heard the band before and play a typical track from The Throes, their 2004 debut on Alive Records. Follow that with a song from Where the Toll Tells, their 2006 Saddle Creek Records debut, and one from this, their new eponymously titled follow-up. Now ask your test subject how the three vary musically and lyrically. First, they’ll assume they all came from the same album; next they’ll ask (eagerly) if all their songs sound like this. The answer, of course, is yes.

Like I said, it’s an easy knock, and it’s not fair, really. Two Gallants, the San Francisco duo of singer/guitarist Adam Stephens and drummer Tyson Vogel, have crafted a unique sound that feels like a cross between ’60s blues-rock, “The House of the Rising Sun” and modern-day pirate songs. Stephens’ craggy voice and rolling, picking’ electric guitar bend the music over Vogel’s bright, almost militaristic syncopated marching-band percussion. The result is a slice of turn-of-the-(20th)-Century Americana merged with Delta blues and indie rock.

At the center of it all is Stephens’ travelin’ I-miss-my-woman lyrics that sound just as comfortable sung on the Slowdown stage as on the deck of a storm-battered clipper or behind the reigns of a covered wagon. A typical verse from opener “The Deader” sums it up nicely:

Oh now the raging sea she laps upon my door
I’ll round a thousand horns just to drown upon her shore
Blood red roses go down Moses oh billowing sails
Those so weak-willed guts all sea-filled throw them o’er the rails

Aye, matey! Their style hasn’t budged from day one, but that said, of the three albums, this is the one to own. Gone are the 8- and 9-minute ballads heard on early releases that seemed to go on forever. None of these nine tracks reach the 6-minute mark. That effort to economize, and the shift from rousing ballads to dark, ominous death tales, like “Fly Low Carrion Crow,” make this the most varied and sonically broad record of their career. Within one song, the closer “My Baby’s Gone,” the music travels from deep, underwater, slow motion to emerge with a strut on dry land, Stephens testifying, “I go where cold winds don’t blow / I go where nobody goes,” before pulling back down to elegy pace for a repeated, pained whisper of “My baby’s gone,” that turns into an inspiring battle cry.

So maybe they have been singing the same song for years. I guess that would be a problem if that song weren’t so damn good.

Rating: Yes