This is a good decision, right?

I'm pretty sure this is all Jann Wenner's fault.

At the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame concerts last week in NY all kinds of bands mixed. And while most of the pairings were insipid and predictable, at least they made sense for the sentimental and star-struck (ie: U2 and The Boss, Sting and Stevie Wonder, U2 and Mick Jagger).

But Metallica with Lou Reed and later Ray Davies?

Sorry Ned—you think that's bad? Try "You Really Got me" and "All Day and all of the Night" with Lars' clunky power drumming and Kirk Hammet's meaningless needle riffing. It's a slap to Davies if you ask me, relegated to two songs with a band of former metal heads and current teetotaling grampas who have neither the talent nor the inclination to be adaptable.

Reed's songs don't fair much better (but we're used to Reed shitting on things, right?). And just because the trio of artists were semi-outsiders—when compared to U2 or Stevie—doesn't bless the pairing. Rather than the Hall of Fame proving it's vitality, it demonstrated again a pointless senility—no better or authentic than a wax museum. Except wax sculptures would've been easier on the ears.

Upon listening to the new Kings of Convenience record, Declaration of Dependence, I suddenly understand how I'm supposed to live.

First, I must frequent a scenic place where I can wallow in my sorrows, in anticipation of listening to one half of the record as background music.

Wallow: Kings of Convenience - "Renegade"

Then, I must plan dinner parties in anticipation of listening to the other half of the record as background music.

Dinner Party: Kings of Convenience - "Boat Behind"

Next, I must realize that that this record could be enjoyed anywhere, at any volume, at any given time. Lastly, and most importantly, I must reckon with my dark and intolerable love for Scandinavian pop music.

Yep, that's right; I love pop music from Scandinavia. This is the first time I've ever admitted that to anyone, including myself, in my entire life. And I'm sure that I will someday regret this unabashed internet confession. However, it's always best to lay everything out on the table and what better place to do so then in my first (and hopefully not last) entry in End Hits. Plus(+!!), I write this with hopes of empowering other Scandinavian pop fans out there. Yes, you. You who still believe in what the Cardigans were doing in the 90's. You, with your stockpiles of Jose Gonzalez, Emiliana Torrini, and Royksopp albums in your bomb shelter And you, who like me, was forcefed ABBA's Gold as a child, thus taking all the blame for your unsophisticated taste in music.

It's okay, it's not our fault. Blame these guys.

Since I mentioned them yesterday, let's keep talking about the finest British band of the '90s, Pulp. (Sorry, Gay Dad.) NME is reporting that the band's expanded reissues for His 'N' Hers, A Different Class, and This is Hardcore are finally going to be available in America (at reasonable, non-import, prices).

All three packages will feature a second disc of single B-sides and previously unreleased session tracks and demos, as well as a 32-page booklet with session photos and [Jarvis] Cocker-penned liner notes.

The reissues, which have been available in the UK since 2006, will finally hit shelves in the US on November 17.

While I'd love a reissue of their underrated swan song, We Love Life, these three deluxe copies will definitely do for now. Pulp's b-side catalog has always been stellar, case-in-point, "PTA," which was on the cutting room floor of the Different Class recording sessions. While it's no "Christine 16" ("she's young and clean") the song is a bit creepy with underage sexual lyrics ("take your clothes off, one two three/No you don't have to talk to me/Just leave the light on so I can see") about a girl "met at the local P.T.A."

LISTEN:

Pulp - "PTA"

I am crazy? Or are The Monsters of Folk a troupe of greedy swine?

Exhibit A:

$44 for the cheapest seats?! Now, I understand it's at the Schnitz, but that's within the band's discretion. Not only does it make for a more expensive concert, but an horribly more boring rock show. I mean, Christ, the Great Recession is still on, right?

For about the same price to get a fleeting glance at the decidedly pathetic "supergroup" you could've scored tickets to see a real legend in Bob Dylan, who performed here last night. How on earth are these two acts even near the same price-point? Sure makes you wonder if Bob could charge more, but, you know, did the right thing instead. Speculation, or course, but something to chew on...

I am stunned and sickened. And don't even get me started about the music... lousy self-aggrandizing pigs. I don't care if the band name is in jest—the shoe fits, and it stinks.

This year's nominees include ABBA, the Chantels, the Stooges, Darlene Love, Donna Summer and Laura Nyro as well as the even motlier first-time nominees Genesis (tell me not including the Collins years), Jimmy Cliff, Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Hollies, LL Cool J and KISS... that's KISS. I think the band's been eligible for over a decade—now slovenly KISS Army members can find something else to do besides protesting outside the Hall wearing makeup and cod-pieces.

Love 'em or hate 'em KISS belongs in the Hall of Fame (as does Sonic Youth, The Replacements, Rush... ). Who else is long överdüe? Crüe? Hall & Oates? Slayer?

Although I think whatever chance KISS may have had could go up in a ball of Gene Simmons' flame with the release of this.

Weird, right? Guess that means he liked the video as much as we did. Although, after what happened at the VMA's, I doubt he expresses this opinion to Taylor Swift.

Of all the shows I saw over the weekend, Monotonix and Bad Brains was both the best and worst. Monotonix were incredible, as usual, creating an fully enveloping, sweaty, inclusive, shirtless neighbor hugging experience. It's really more performance art and feeling that they're cultivating than the specifics of music. It's just a shredding, swirly, garbage-tossing, hairy chested, rafter-swinging half-mad love fest. And perhaps most striking of all, it went off in a huge venue (The Roseland) just as well as it did some years ago in the cramped Tube.

Friday, the place was packed, near—if not at—capacity. Monotonix played in the middle of the floor, but their reach seemed to affect even those in the balcony. It was fucking incredible. They rode on drums, crowd surfed, the whole bit.

But as far as Bad Brains went, I want to offer a bit of a retraction (to this). HR was not compelled by the Monotonix chain lightning AT ALL. He was more listless than ever. From my notes:

active distaste and total boredom of HR

He had his hands in his pockets and seemed to be scowling at the crowd. Even his pidly motions like a faux-dance step or clap along seemed sarcastic. It was fucking pathetic. I feel bad for the other Brains, because they seemed to care somewhat, but there's no rising above that kind of scoundrel on the mic.

Just a insipid performance from HR, he might as well have done it sitting down and answered personal phone calls during instrumental breaks. It was really a slap in the face of the audience, and it's hard to think his intentions were anything but.

If HR has reached a point where he doesn't feel these songs anymore, and can't muster up the passion to deliver them while at least appearing to care, he should stop. It's that simple.

Two years ago I wrote that the Bad Brains didn't deserve to be lumped in with the Stooges and Pixies and Queen reunions, as their situation was different. And it may well be for 3/4's of the band (the interview with Daryl Jenifer proved he is a passionate, inspiring man.) But unfortunately, until HR comes around—which at this point seems unlikely—the Bad Brains are not whole, and any continued action appears pointless.

I'm sad this is the way things ended up. But hey, at least we've got Monotonix.

My God. Was it really that long ago? If the dateline is to be believed, I interviewed and wrote about the Bad Brains back in 2007. And I dare say, everything there pretty much stands.

"For us to be gone, come back, be gone, come back, that's just the way we roll," Jenifer says. "It's not a nostalgia tip for us. It's a mission. It's the life we're living. In terms of money, in terms of records, you know it's not about that. This is all God's work to us." And so the Brains, with their original lineup of Dr. Know, H.R., Earl Hudson, and Jenifer, continue their lifelong commitments to music and Rastafari.

"Some people got to worry about their success and monetary things, these seemingly important things," explains Jenifer. "But when you're a spiritual cat or a great spirit respecting youth, all things are not what they seem."

Indeed, Darryl Jenifer was a real soul brother. He was out there and fully inspiring. I remember getting off the phone after we somehow ended up talking about my band. He had so much useful and stirring advice. I bolted to practice a new man.

The only thing would add to the piece now, having seen them, is a bit about HR's listlessness on-stage. It's as if someone crushed up an extra prozac into his pre-show joint or something. It worked for the reggae tunes, but not so much during the shred. But, you know, dude's got to be pushing 50, so back-flips are out of the question.

I have one extra-special hope for tonight's Roseland show: that HR witnesses the chaotic trash-spinning cyclone that is Monotonix and feels challenged—that he must rise to the occasion and really break the shit off.

Should be interesting to see.

While Cary Clarke is mostly right, saying "Pavement, I love you. And that's why I do not want you to reunite. Unless you are making new music together, leave the past in the past." He should've stopped at "And that's why I do not want you to reunite." No new music necessary. Nor any from the Pixies, Stooges, New York Dolls, etc. etc. etc...

Buddyhead also weighs in (and since it's a comment on dead 90's entertainment, I suppose this makes Buddyhead relevant):

"Pavement are getting back together. Dudes who have man-purses are AMPED!

And that shall be the last we speak of it.

But we will speak more of Mr. Clarke. You may want to get on his Twitter feed, if only to weigh in Rose Quarter development conversation. Follow Cary's lead and tweet for better design:

"Tell Mayor Adams that you want the Memorial Coliseum turned into a non-profit, all-ages music venue and tag your tweet with #rqidea"

Pie the sky idea, but a damn good one.

So the Beatles have embraced technology with Rock Band, or so they say. Still though, the Fab Five (I'm including George Martin here, and you'll see why) don't have a damn thing on iTunes. I found myself wondering about it this morning and had to check... Now, one could argue, that with all the audiophiles jumping at the newly remastered mono and stereo versions, it'd be time to get these suckers online. But these same audiophiles, I bet, would be shit-pissed about all the time and precise work being spent to re-master these bastards would be burned off when they're truncated back down to MP3 format.

I thought about trying to get a hold of the new mono-masters myself, to see what all the fuss was about—especially since the release of the CD re-masters of 1987 that we've been stuck with are supposedly so awful. (For a great breakdown on the new masters, and mono/stereo differences, see this NY Times review by Allan Kozinn.)

But then I realized the whole point here is to hear these Beatles tracks in their full, intended glory. So unless digital copies are delivered in loss-less formats—and iTunes tracks are far from it—I'm holding out. And even though Yoko says the Beatles' catalog will be on iTunes soon, I say hold out for something like a FLAC file distribution. You would make George Martin proud.

I bring this up in light of the recent release of the Beatles' remasters (Hey, the compact disc is all but dead... let's re-release the entire catalog on CD!). Although I just listened to the remastered versions of Abbey Road and Help!, and I must say they do sound much better than the 1987 CD releases (warmer, and the bass and drums really jump). But that's neither here nor there. The songs are brilliant, whether it's the early ramshackle pop or the epic, psychedelic masterpieces, and the influence is all over anything worth a damn. Of course, it has always been more "punk" to say you like the Rolling Stones. In 2007 The Believer published an article on the rivalry, using an old quote from Tom Wolfe that seems to put it most succinctly: "The Beatles want to hold your hand, but the Stones want to burn down your town."

After playing that cover night two years ago I finally decided that the Fab Four go all Maxwell's-Silver-Hammer on Mick and the boys. And over the past week I haven't been able to get enough of the Help! album or the McCartney-penned song below. Like I said, the question's been asked a million times... but it still makes for some fun and spirited discussion. Besides, there's no right or wrong answer. Right?

The Beatles, "The Night Before"

Yahoo Answers is not really known for its reliability—it's no Questionland—but this question really does take the cake. I'm speechless.

My trusty Chinese-made flip flops recently fell apart on me, and since I fear my gym's shower floor has more culture growing on it than a loaf of moldy bread, I need a new pair immediately. Oh, hello Bad Brains flip flops.

Of course these are from Japan which means unless I start some intensive foot binding, they probably will be too small for me. But I still want them. Bad. You can follow that link and enter a contest to win a pair, but I would not recommend attempting an H.R.-esque backflip in them.

This probably makes the third, maybe fourth time Cobain has rolled over in his grave. Courtney Love, Dave Grohl—you rule.

The scene is quite familiar: Following the "thank you, good night" farewell, the house lights are turned on (and everyone scrambles for darkness, like someone just overturned the rock in which we hide under), and without fail a few people always make that mad dash for the discarded setlist on the stage floor. The appeal of a scrap of paper with song titles scribbled upon it was always lost on me—as I swore I'd never be that guy—but, of course, I discovered this during my recent attic cleaning/excavation...

Other than them closing with "Box Elder," the most bizarre thing about this Pavement setlist is that I barely remember the show. I think it was right before Brighten the Corners came out, but other than that, it must have been a totally forgettable concert. Maybe that's why I kept the setlist, hoping it would trigger some sort of memory from that night. Granted, this discovery wasn't as embarrassing as unearthing evidence of my emo past, but it makes me think that in my personal revisionist concert history, I've probably snatched my fair share of setlists.

So, what about you? Have you saved any setlists? If so, from what bands?

Recently the O ran a review of the Dead Weather show where Jack White compliments our seedy little town by saying it's "the only town where you can see a girl strip to a Tom Waits song."

That's old news to us, but it makes me wonder what Tom Waits song did Mr. White lay down his tips to? Of course "Pasties and a G-string" comes to mind first, but I'd like to wager on the excellent "Mr. Siegal" from Heartattack And Vine. It's hard to stay clothed through this boozy little number, and it reminds us that there was probably some pretty decent stripping soundtracks before Mötley Crüe ruined it for everyone.

Then again, maybe it's one of the Tom Waits songs about mules, dwarfs, and little murdered babies. Don't ask me, I wasn't there. I swear.

LISTEN:

Tom Waits - "Mr. Siegal"

Jesus, that's a pretty fucking apt visual expression of the Monotonix experience—hairy, funny, confrontational, and full of radical shred. It's as if they hired the guy who designed this:

Now, we also know that, unfortunately, attempting to convey the live mania of Monotonix in an album is like trying to bottle lightning; it can't be done, as all senses—touch and smell included—must be appeased. Or should I say "assaulted." But just for kicks, you can hear samples from the new record, Where Were You When It Happened? here. (And I will say the production is more livid than the band's last EP.)

Nonetheless, the violent-sexual-pilgrimage by stank gypsies from Tel Aviv may be my most eagerly anticipated show of the entire MusicFest NW. They'll be opening up for Bad Brains, which is a good thing. Hopefully Monotonix will force (or remind) the Brains' HR Throat to rev-up a bit into his older, wild ways. In his last Portland appearance with the Brains, HR seemed to be a few too many Prozac deep in melty land (still the show was good).

So, how long have you been drumming for? How long have you been an instructor?
I have been drumming for 25 years now and have been teaching for the last 20 years.

How long have you worked with Mike Byrne?
I taught Mike for four years while he was in high school.

What was he like when he first started drumming?
When he first came to me he was full of energy and eager to learn how to play. Mike was listening to a broad range of music too. I helped him figure out songs as well as show him proper technique. I taught him loads of grooves, fills, rudiments, coordination and timing exercises. I taught him how to sound great playing any style of music.

Is he a drumming prodigy?
Yes Mike is an amazing player. I can't wait for everyone to hear him. He is going to be a great role model for other young up-and-coming drummers out there.

We are running an interview with the dreamy Joe Pernice—sigh—next week, but one part of our discussion that won't make the piece is his amazing—sigh—story about how his "I Hate My Life" T-shirts ended up being unceremoniously donated to a homeless shelter in Vermont. Take it away, Joe.

We were going to a show in Montreal. Most bands smuggle all their merchandise, but I was like, "I'm not gonna do it. I'm gonna go by the book." So I had our box of shirts ready... and that guy [Canadian border agent] was breaking balls. I declared the value. I did everything right. He counts the shirts up and says, “Oh, you have 25 shirts. If you have over 20, you need an importer's license.”

“You're joking.”

He replied, “Oh no. I'm not joking. You can go back into the American side and apply for a license.” I asked how long that will that take and he said, "You know, it could take 12 hours." I'm on my way to a show—luckily I only brought 25 shirts—so I told him, “I'm gonna miss this show. I'll just throw them away.” And he goes, “Okay, but you can't throw them away in Canada.”

They made me leave the country. I go back to the American side and the border guard there had a few choice things to say about our neighbors up north. I explained, “Look, I just wanna get rid of these shirts. I'm gonna miss a show but I don't want to just throw them out if I don't have to. Is there a homeless shelter I could give them to?” He said, “Yeah, I'll bring them there after my shift.”

I drive away and as I'm looking in the rearview mirror I see the border guard lift up a shirt, and I think to myself, “Oh, Jesus Christ.” Those shirts say "I Hate My Life" across the chest. Somewhere in Vermont there are possibly 25 homeless people walking around with "I Hate My Life" T- shirts on.

LISTEN:

Joe Pernice/Chappaquiddick Skyline - "Everyone Else Is Evolving"

The graphic really says it all (each medium travels along the same continuum, beginning in 1973). But there's a story attached: "Swan Songs" by Charles M. Blow.

This is a day late, I know, but yesterday I was stuck in plane, badly needing sleep from a long, long night at Pickathon. But as soon as I finally fell asleep some bastard child woke me up, running back and forth down the aisles.

Pickathon was a pretty interesting experience. A lot like a tiny version of the Country Fair, if that's any helpful reference point. Everything about it—the property, the music, the atmosphere, the camping—is great, well managed, and I recommend it wholeheartedly. The only sticky issue is the high cost of tickets.

Part of that, I suppose, accounts for flying in a number of bands. And my God, my favorite of them all was Sam Quinn. I've since become obsessed. Quinn (who previously played in the everybodyfields) and his new band, the Japan Ten, are from Tennessee. On stage after midnight on Saturday he remarked that it was the guitarist's first time on a plane to get here.

Quinn's spellbinding, wispy performance that night in the field was the ideal setting, and something I'll never be able to fully separate from his tunes. He kept such a dogged pace, singing through his teeth to muffle the sound in a lovely way. Violinist Megan Gregory's harmonies were absolutely spot on. A taste:

I'd recommend everything Quinn's got out there, which isn't much (first Hypemachine search that came up empty). So head on over to his myspace where all four of the tracks are just astounding (including the cover of "Beautiful Boy"). "Late The Other Night" was Quinn's closer in the meadow. He played keyboard on the almost tear-inducing track, bringing it to a head in an otherwise remarkably reigned in set by stomping his foot near and amp, causing the reverb coils to shake and cackle.

I talked to Sam briefly, hoping to get news of a tour with a stop in Portland. No such luck. Not for the foreseeable future, anyway. He says they'll head back to Tennessee, play a few more shows there, then get to working on a record. I can't wait. But in the meantime, I'm going to have to scrape these suckers off the internet—I need them on my stereo, iPod, in the car, and everywhere. Thanks Pickathon.

A little update on a recent post about music numbers. End Hits readers were rightly skeptical of the strange graphic in the NY Times Magazine asserting that "71% of all music sales last year were individual digital tracks."

Certainly it seemed odd. I thought maybe it meant in terms of volume of purchases, where, by their math, a single downloaded song was weighted equally towards the purchase of a packaged physical CD. More news on this today, from the paper version of the Times:

Physical album sales fell 20 percent, to 362.6 million last year, according to Nielsen, while sales of individual digital tracks rose 27 percent, to 1.07 billion, failing to compensate for the drop.

By that math, volume wise, downloads count for about 68% of all sales. (My math is rusty as crap, however.) This could be a small sampling error, and close enough to the other figure. Again, we're talking volume of single purchases, not number of total songs vs. albums. Then again, we don't know if those online purchase figures account for single songs or credit card charges (where a number of songs were bought at one time). Either way, I thought it'd be interesting to follow up, at least in part.

For citation, here's the whole story. It's a good one, on new business models for bands and labels. Read it.

Info graphic spotted in the NY Times Magazine:

"71% of all music sales last year were individual digital tracks."

At this time I am processing and have no comment. You?

Also, I think it'd be interesting (though perhaps impossible) to gague the number of illegal vs. paid song downloads. I'm guessing full albums are more often downloaded illegally (only somewhat because of price) though songs are easy to get by themselves too...

Hmm... the ol' brain is crankin' away...

All my life, I've wanted to be like Jessica Hopper. She's the author behind famed zine Hit it or Quit It, plus the master of countless musical endeavors—skilled writer, former publicist from back in the day, music farmer for This American Life, and even readers of Heavier Than Heaven will recognize her from the final days of Kurt Cobain. With her first book, The Girls’ Guide To Rocking, on stores shelves right this very second, we let everyone's best pal, Joan Hiller-Depper, interview Hopper about the book, Ira Glass' car, and how to piss off The Eagles.

Jessica Hopper will be reading tonight at Powell's Books on Hawthorne (3723 SE Hawthorne), 7:30 pm.

Interview after the jump.