if someone hands you a CD, it's a gift. the music was not a gift to that person. they paid for it. but where does that stop? how many people can the original purchaser pass the content along to before it becomes stealing? and when does it become detrimental to a band? at some point, they need you to do exactly what is now looked at as the bane of the music world. "please pass our crappy song along to everyone you know" that's fine, but no one should be expected to pay for that. "Satan's Noah: Live this Saturday! please email this to everyone you've ever heard of. and if not, don't worry - we'll flood your inbox with this sort of marketing everyday regardless of whether or not you're going to attend the show. also, here's a link to our myspace and facebook and youtube pages where you can hear our music for free." "definitely. Satan's Noah - absolutely. i'll be there. love how you guys do business. the ads at the beginning of your videos got a little excessive ...especially since each video only has about 300 views, and i don't need car insurance. but once i made it into the actual video, i'm sold. you guys are artists. you're doing this for the sake of creating and making art. and that's apparent. i'm happy to help support that. heard some people were illegally downloading "pure heaven" and that's rubbish. that song is too good for people to have for free. i'm going to see what i can do about getting them arrested as thieves. i don't blame you at all for selling the info for your mailing list. i don't mind getting all that spam. you guys are artists. how else are you going to make ends meet?? can't wait for the show. i'm psyched! (ps. sorry you didn't win that contest to be the next credit report band)

it seems that music and consumers are at a point where neither can trust the other. so many bands made millions of dollars while actual artists wasted away in squalor. giant record companies branded and molded and sculpted acts into what they thought the public wanted and needed. they controlled the supply. and how many 12 track albums did people race out and buy only to find that two songs were good? there's an inherent fear of wasting money that listeners have. they also have a curiosity and desire to find new artists. with the help of smaller record labels and sharing sites like youtube, artists are now able to get their art out to the people easier than ever before. the disconnect seems to occur when people have established themselves. "hey, we're not an upstart garage band anymore. we'd like you to pay for the content now." but listeners have gotten too accustomed to acquiring music in this risk-reduced manner, so they are not likely to change. and as an artist, the dynamic used to be different. put out some jams, sign a record deal, do a tour, get some radio play, blow up. now art is more socialistic than ever before. people upload art onto the internet 100% free all the time - just for the joy of creating it. the person working 9-5 and then recording on a 4 track at night might not have ambitions to tour and make money solely as a musician. whereas someone who says, "art is all i can do. it's all i was ever meant to do. i need money for creating it." is going to have a lot harder time adjusting to this current paradigm. more than ever, art is challenging people to really abide by "i make art for the sake of making art" if you want money, you'll have to resort to better methods than chasing down each $.99 that wasn't paid per download. is getting money from a company playing your song in their commercial much different than getting money from each person who listens to it? or you could always get in that jingle game, homie.

on a previous trip to portland - a place i really enjoy - i happened to see the mascot of the town. or the living embodiment of it. or just a good representation. or just a dude who liked dressing like a caricature of what portland residents look like. to paint a picture, i was sitting outside at a patio atmosphere-type dining establishment ...which are quite common in the city of roses. i looked past my friend who was sitting next to me, and i spied a short, white guy with a beard walking toward us. that's not so uncommon ...anywhere really. nor was it uncommon that this fella had buddy holly, thick-rimmed glasses, and puffy woodsman hair, and short cut-off jean shorts, and a tight flannel shirt tucked into them. i think the capper. the thing that set him apart - was that he had no socks and boat shoes on. all of these things together gave him the appearance of someone headed to a halloween party. i chuckled to myself and said, "hey, it's portland guy" (not in an 80's bully kind of way. more of a "hey, there's a hummingbird" kind of way) then people at the table glanced, shrugged, and didn't seem that struck by him. as the look is quite common. however, as he passed, i said, "yeah, portland guy" thinking maybe i'd get a wave or a perhaps a chuckle from him. instead i was met with anger. in hindsight, i can see how he would think i was being a jerk, but i genuinely thought it was harmless. either way, his reaction was very un-portland. he stormed to the table and got right in my face, "what did you say?" "i said, yeah portland guy. you're the portland guy" to which he said, "where are you guys from?" which would have been a perfect time for me to reply, "ahh, yes. where are we from? our attire hasn't given you nearly the clues that yours has, so you are stumped. whereas i was able to tell where you live based solely on your stupid, yacht riding, axe swinging, quarry jumping into, nerdy book reading look you're trying so aggressively to maintain" ...but i didn't. people around the table actually started chipping in with where they were from in a very cordial manner. portland guy saw the tension being dissipated and in a last gasp effort decided to cut everyone off with, "alright! (then to me) just a friendly word of advice, dude. i don't like to be put in a box when i'm walking down the street." then he puffed out his little chest (he was like 5'5") and marched away. i hope that within the following 24 hours he was violently molested by sasquatch.

"whoa! TMI!" jeff boisterously coughed out toward shelby, as she made copies. shelby only returned a polite smile and continued her story with marilyn about her teeth cleaning. jeff awkwardly gathered his papers and exited the room. he couldn't help but think that should have gotten a better response. as he made his way to his desk, jeff passed kyle. "just livin the dream, huh?" jeff chuckled. kyle smiled and returned to his work. jeff shook his head. that used to get quite a laugh. now kyle didn't even give a fake chuckle. he was noticing this more and more. when karen tripped and her banana flew straight into steve's coffee cup, jeff had been right on the spot with, "that just happened!" everyone had shared a good laugh over that one. and when alan had mentioned his pencil being too big for his hand, jeff was quick with a "that's what she said" but even that phrase wasn't getting laughs these days. since mike had been scooped up, people had been a little more resigned to laugh out loud, but he knew they secretly wanted to. mike had been taken, but jeff had secretly wished it had been him. everyone knew when they sucked you up in their beam, it led to a life no one wanted. they forced you to get on stage in front of strangers every night. in different cities. and then you HAD to make them laugh. jeff had always welcomed that challenge. he knew that with a little practice people would recognize his talent. they'd gone to see mike when he was in town. jeff watched with anger as mike did the same things he always did around the office - and drew big laughs. it infuriated jeff how little mike seemed to try. he just talked. what was funny about that? when mike saw jeff from the stage and said, "luckily jeff keeps khaki pants in fashion" and jeff responded with "i'm kind of a big deal" ...no one laughed. he'd chalked it up to mike having the stage and the lights on him, but he knew if he were up there, they would love him. but he wasn't. not yet. all he could do was keep trying. the next time the craft stopped overhead and the beam shot down - it would be on him. and he'd have the perfect quip.