The Mayan calendar claims that the world will come to an abrupt end in 2012. We have all heard the hype and suffered through the movies. But even if that prediction falls flat, the pop-music business may still experience its own armageddon shortly thereafter. Are these just the ravings of another music-industry expert flying off the rails? Let's see.

In 2013, many classic recordings are scheduled to slip out of the control of their major labels. No, I’m not referring to odd recordings that no one actually collects. This list of records includes some of the top-selling albums of all time (abbreviated list below)!

Even though music-business insiders have been dreading this for years, the New York Times finally decided that it was a newsworthy enough subject and published a piece a few weeks ago about this issue (called “termination of masters”). Unfortunately, the reporter they assigned seemed to a have limited understanding of how the music business really works, as well as of copyright in general. In his article, he kept interchanging the word “songs” with “master recordings,” which littered his post with inaccurate statements like, “artists can claim their songs in 2013.”

Though this New York Times piece may be new info to outsiders, it is a subject that has long been on the minds of those concerned with the recording industry and artist rights. I reported about the subject in a 2008 Moses Supposes article. Here’s the reprint for your perusal:

Mayan meltdown at majors

The hot topic for the American Bar Association conference in 2008 was “termination of masters,” a little raison d’etre in the copyright act that supposedly levels the playing field for authors who are often at a disadvantage to the big, bad publisher (or record company, in this case). The copyright act states that after 35 years, the license or transfer of a work must “terminate” and revert back to the original author.

With so many variances in the law, we really need an iPhone countdown app to determine which master rights are soon to go bye-bye. But due to several exceptions, the albums that are immediately affected are those released in the US from 1978-1979. So in the year 2013, the following albums may no longer be property of their labels:

The Wall (Pink Floyd)
Van Halen (Van Halen)
Off the Wall (Michael Jackson)
Highway to Hell (AC/DC)
Joe’s Garage (Frank Zappa)
Tusk (Fleetwood Mac)
London Calling (The Clash)
Rust Never Sleeps (Neil Young)
Darkness on the Edge of Town (Bruce Springsteen)
Man the Torpedoes (Tom Petty)
The Kids Are Alright (The Who)
Some Girls (The Rolling Stones)
Fear of Music (Talking Heads)
Rickie Lee Jones (Rickie Lee Jones)

Basically my entire vinyl collection.

Oh, I almost forgot — Breakfast In America by Supertramp. (They can have that one.)

As you can see, this is not an insignificant list, and this list is in no way complete.

Though this may sound like a victory for the artists, keep in mind that without the threat of label litigation, we will likely see a de-facto public-domain-i-zation (I made that word up) of these masters. Artistically, this might be cool because now people can do wacky remixes and P2P them free of lawsuits. But it also means a complete deterioration of the one area that labels have been relying on for the revenue that it takes to invest in new artists: catalog.

And artists too?

Yes! To make matters worse, it’s not only the labels that could get the shaft here but the artist as well. You see, anyone who worked on the recording is considered “an author” and can apply for a “termination of [their] rights.” Anyone. Right down to the hanger-on who played the tambourine because he dropped off weed at the studio and someone said, “Hey, want to jam on the record?”

Imagine being a top heritage artist; you get your masters back and you’re looking forward to making a fresh deal for your classic recording, only to have an army of ex-entourage that you left in the wake of ascension shaking you down. Even if you’re legally in the right, the cost of litigation could bury you.

Several arguments have been forwarded to further define exactly who exactly “the author” is, but so far, each one seems to have just enough merit to pass summary judgment. The fact is that no one knows for sure exactly what or who “the author” will be in this context.

For my anarchist readers, who are presently wringing their hands with glee, I’ll say this: it’s one thing to want labels to suffer because they’re such greedy bastards, and it’s quite another to want to see a complete erosion of classic recordings and financial infrastructure.

This is only a small article on what is going to be a very, very scary topic over the next couple of years. Stay tuned.

What would you do if your label, which claimed that, after selling millions of CDs, you still owe them money, was going to lose rights to the masters? Would you take them back or renew your contract with them? I’ll give you some tips in the next piece on this important subject. What do you think is in the artist’s best interest? Post your answer below. Here’s a clue: it’s not the obvious answer.

Mo out

Japandroids: "Darkness on the Edge of Gastown" (No Singles, Polyvinyl, 5/11/10)

Chicago, IL: Underneath the bar at Schubas, underground, a pint glass of Coke sits on the table next to a bottle of Jack Daniels. Brian King and Dave Prowse of Japandroids are eating dinner, mixing these liquids into two whiskey tumblers.

"We've always called them 'rocks' glasses," Prowse says. There is a moment of silence to contemplate the proper terminology. But in the same moment, a drink is poured, and the thought is quickly abandoned. The drink, the Jack and Coke, evades such obstacles. It will be called the same thing wherever one goes, wherever one comes from. Its effects, too, will be the same.

"Four years and one day, yeah, since our very first show," King remembers. "Neither of us thought about that until just now."

Going back only so far as April of 2009, the band has played more than 200 shows in more than 20 countries. To add perspective, one must also consider that some of the longest tours in history have run much longer — well over two years — without ever passing the 250-show mark. And even then, those tours were not delayed by such things as King's perforated ulcer and the emergency surgery and two months of silence that followed.

But tonight there are no such concerns, no tour to be interrupted. King and Prowse have been off the road and at home in Vancouver, British Columbia since November. They have come to Chicago only to play two shows: one on New Year's Eve, and one on New Year's Day. It's the last time that they intend to play this same set of songs. The shows are being recorded in the hopes of capturing the fleeting moment. When they are over, the band will return home — where there is a new album to work on and a new world to which it will adjust.

The plan is to book four weeks in the studio. Twenty-eight days. Prowse rolls a pair of drum sticks along his leg and tries to fathom this stretch of time, this eternity. "Four weeks?" This infinity. "Post-Nothing was tracked in three days."

Leaning forward beneath a wall of concert posters, King weighs a different sort of timelessness. "How can a record that was recorded 10 years, 15 years, even 20 years before I was born — how can that be the record that I listen to all the time now?" The Velvet Underground in the late 1960s; The Stooges in the early '70s; The Gun Club in the early '80s; The Rolling Stones and The Clash; what did they stumble into? Where did they find something so ageless? Where is it now? "I want to try to make something that someone could listen to in 10 years and still get the same feeling — something that could hold just as much power."

But these are all matters for another time. There is still tonight's recording, tonight's show and tomorrow's. The last of the year and first. There is still the crowd of people waiting in the warm and intimate room upstairs, already celebrating a night that is still young. There is still the band's sound man Valentino, underneath the bar at Schubas, underground. Valentino would like a Jack and Coke. And he would like it in a proper glass, or he would not like it at all.

These are the things that matter tonight.

It is December 31, 2010 — New Year's Eve. What was a pint glass of Coke is now just a glass. It sits on the same table as before, but now dry as bone. What whiskey remains is sitting on the side of the stage. King is climbing along his guitar and onto Prowse's bass drum. Prowse is sitting poised behind it, pushing, pounding, kicking. There is a brief pause when the countdown begins: ten, nine, eight … a toast. Two bottles of champagne take their first breath on the stage and their last in the crowd that faces it. It is January 1, 2011 — four years and two days since the very first Japandroids show.

This week, we spoke with Neal Becton, owner of Som Records in Washington, DC. The small, well-curated record store is a staple in the DC community, and Becton is the force behind a number of events like the annual DC Record Fair and the monthly Brazilian Rhythms party. Having made three trips to Brazil primarily for the purpose of digging crates, there's no question that Becton is committed to his craft, and Som's diverse selection reflects his unequaled passion for music.
 

Neal holds The Beatles' Revolver

What can someone expect when visiting Som for the first time?

A small but tight shop with the best selection of used vinyl in DC. Being fairly small forces me to curate instead of just throwing everything out in the bins. I dig for records four to five days a week, so there's always new stuff in here. I do sell new releases and touch a few genres that the other local stores don't touch.

What was your motivation for starting a music store?

I started as a record collector, then became a DJ, and finally a store owner. Records started taking over my apartment, so I figured I better open a store to make some more room.

What is your background in music?

None, really. My parents both had pretty big record collections (various genres), and I started going to concerts when I was 15. I went to lots of shows growing up in Atlanta, and then once I got to college (University of Georgia), I went to see bands almost every day of the week. My friends were all in bands. I went to my senior prom as a roadie.
 

Minsker holds Moondog's Moondog and His Friends

What is the musical community like in the DC area?

Hard to put it into a few sentences, but DC has a large and varied scene. Punk, hip hop, electronic, bluegrass, whatever — it's all here. Even though I didn't grow up in DC, I have been in the city for 21 years and have seen quite a few shows here. Being so close to Philly and New York, we sometimes get overshadowed, but I think that DC can hold its own against any city in terms of quality and variety.

What is the DC Record Fair?

It's a two- or three-times-a-year record show that we started putting on in various venues a few years ago. We get quality dealers from all over the East Coast, serve alcohol, and get local and national musicians to DJ the event. We've had Kid Congo Powers, Geologist from Animal Collective, Ian MacKaye, and Eric Hilton from Thievery Corporation DJ and buy records there. The next one will be February 13, 2011.
 

Kid holds The Ventures' The Ventures in Space

Tell us about the Brazilian Rhythms party.

It's a DJ night that I started over three years ago. I've been collecting Brazilian records for over 15 years now, and I've made three trips to Brazil mainly to buy records. Once a month (third Thursdays at Cafe Saint-Ex), I dig deep into my collection and do a whole night of samba, MPB, funk, bossa, and forro all on original vinyl. We get lots of Brazilians coming out, and everyone dances 'til the lights come on.

What are the current records on your “This Week’s Treasures” wall?

Looking at it right now we have Throbbing Gristle, Kyuss, The Homosexuals, Audio Two, Sam & Dave, Minor Threat, Bad Brains, The Clash, NO-Y-Z, Bola de Nieve, Hank Mobley, Chuck Brown, The Family, Bobby Bland, Grupo Gente, The Erotic Drum Band, Serge Gainsbourg, and some group called The Beatles.
 

Habib holds Black Lips' Let it Bloom

Which albums has your store sold the most over the past month?

Big sellers lately include the Black Angels, Beach House, Broken Bells, Ariel Pink, Flying Lotus, and Arthur Verocai. In the used section, it has been jazz and classic rock running neck and neck of late, with reggae running a close third.

Any big future plans for Som?

We plan to find (and sell) as many good records as we can. We would love to expand someday, but part of me likes the small but tight setup that we have now. All killer, no filler!

Tera Melos: Patagonian Rats (Sargent House)

Due to limited touring, a shuffling lineup, and shorter releases, eccentric math-rock trio Tera Melos has kept an undeservedly low profile.

Nevertheless, the group garnered acclaim for its progressive prowess and unconventionality — first with an untitled full-length debut and then a split EP with By the End of Tonight, a separate 2007 EP, and a 2009 covers EP that deconstructed pop tunes by the Beach Boys, Pixies, Weezer, and The Clash.

Along the journey, guitarist/keyboardist Nick Reinhart experimented with vocals, tucking them in and around his maniacal but hook-tinged riffs.  The cover EP, Idioms Vol. 1, furthered the vocal presence, but Reinhart really perfected his delivery in Bygones, his wild rock collaboration with Hella's Zach Hill.

With Reinhart's newly sharpened vocal chops and a new tech-pop balance, Patagonian Rats marks the true arrival of Tera Melos.  The album lands somewhere between the band's old schizophrenic yet directed mayhem and the mathy yet melodic accessibility of Bygones.  The chaos is carefully controlled, erupting at opportune moments or manifesting itself in layers of outlandishness.

The entire album is rooted in a punk energy, however, powered by spastic drums, guitar noodling, and driving bass distortions.  With the addition of a touring fourth member, Tera Melos should be more accurately reenacting these songs on stage, which should be even more outstanding than listening to Patagonian Rats.

Tera Melos: "Skin Surf"

Tera Melos: "Frozen Zoo"

Kurt Rosenwinkel & OJM: Our Secret World (WOM Music)

Like so many other jazz greats, guitarist and bandleader Kurt Rosenwinkel has a credit sheet as long as his arm, spanning 10 of his own albums and dozens of recordings with others.  And though a decent chunk of his personal catalog is built on standards, his previous releases have offered plenty of material for Our Secret World, a dynamic collection of big-band renditions as interpreted by the Orquestra Jazz de Matosinhos (OJM).

With the ensemble's backing, each selection is capable of being sultry, somber, powerful, or all of the above.  No matter what, however, two constants remain: Rosenwinkel's songwriting skills and his electric jazz-fusion chops.

Hip-hop fans may know Rosenwinkel's name from his work on recent/unreleased Q-Tip albums The Renaissance and Kamaal the Abstract, and Q-Tip, in fact, co-produced Heartcore, Rosenwinkel's eclectic 2003 album that mixed jazz, electronica, soul, and more.  Though Our Secret World isn't as diverse, it again proves how multifaceted and expressive Rosenwinkel's writing is and can be, and it's a great album for those new to jazz.

Sam Prekop: Old Punch Card (Thrill Jockey)

Sam Prekop is best known as the singer/songwriter from The Sea and Cake, a soft, quirky indie-pop group whose members include Archer Prewitt as well as John McEntire of Tortoise.  In his solo career, Prekop hasn't strayed too far from this sound, but he has infused bits of Brazilian and African influence along the way.

Old Punch Card, his third solo album and first since 2005, explores an entirely new direction — one of experimental, formless electronics and melodic loops.  The album is built around different sounds from a modular synthesizer, and it is devoid of vocals, guitars (except for one track), and beats.

Long-standing fans of Prekop may be perplexed, but it's an interesting twist to a career that's been built on pop hooks.  Old Punch Card has little latch-able material for pop enthusiasts (save for a few loops and unorthodox melodies), but it's a strong electronic album, cut in the mold of forebears like Morton Subotnick and Raymond Scott.

Sam Prekop: "Old Punch Card"

Honorable Mentions

The Acorn: No Ghost (Bella Union)

Arp: The Soft Wave (Smalltown Supersound)

Blue Sky Black Death & Alexander Chen: Third Party (Fake Four)

Constants: If Tomorrow the War (Science of Silence)

Helmet: Seeing Eye Dog (Work Song)

Neurosis: Live at Roadburn 2007 (Neurot)

Quest for Fire: Lights from Paradise (Tee Pee)

Sungod: First Matter (Cyclopean)

The Thermals: Personal Life (Kill Rock Stars)

Winter Gloves: All Red (Paper Bag)

Blue Ribbon Glee Club, Grun-Tu-Molani, Leaves @ The Empty Bottle

Have you ever wondered how it would feel to hear Fugazi's "Waiting Room" sung a'cappella by 30-some people, with little more than a back beat to keep it going?

The Blue Ribbon Glee Club, a punk-inspired makeshift choir, tackles that and other independent and mainstream rock classics, including selections from Pixies, Dead Kennedys, the Clash, and David Bowie. The result is a rollicking good time.

Melodic, down-tempo jazz/rock quartet Leaves opens this show at the Empty Bottle. Leaves features a pair of regulars in Chicago's avant-garde music community, saxophonist Charles Gorczynski (Silences Sumire) and drummer Charles Rumback, both of whom participate in Colorlist, an ambient assortment of electronic and jazz influences.

Grun-Tu-Molani also performs, mixing slow brass instrumentation with synthesizers, distant guitar effects, and deceptively laid-back beats.

Iggy was the face of The Stooges, but Ron was the sound, that loud, chunky, aggressive Fender Strat that just always sounded so dirty and surly and cocksure. You might not know Ron Asheton's name as well as those of Buddy Guy, Bo Diddley, or Les Paul, but Rolling Stone ranked him higher than any of them in their 100 greatest guitarists.

In terms of sheer influence, he ranks much higher. Just listen to "Dirt" from the Fun House album (Jack White called it the greatest rock album of all time, and Henry Rollins said that everyone should own a copy), and you'll know what the fuss is about.

He wasn't a saint (though he was the only member of the band without a heroin problem). He wasn't even a nice guy. But man, did he embody that sound — the sound of the biggest revolution in rock history coming just a few years down the road. Rest in peace.

- Michael Dunaway