When Industries Die

I work approximately one block from the New York Stock Exchange. Once upon a time, one would see several dozen floor brokers, specialists, stock reporters and the like smoking outside the exchange on Broad Street. (The profession must've attracted the smoking type.) On CNBC, one would watch Maria Bartiromo reporting from the floor, getting jostled to-and-fro by floor personnel; indeed, the floor was jammed, activity frenetic. Around 2005, the floor became computerized, and trades that once took seven seconds to get executed by floor traders and specialists now took, via computers, one-third of a second. Spreads between bid and ask that once stood at 1/8th of a point now traded (due to "decimalization") at approximately three to two cents between bid and ask. With the merger between NYSE and Archipelago, floor personnel no longer were needed in the same way that they had been for the prior two-hundred and thirteen years. Two-dollar brokers were rendered obsolete, specialists were laid off en masse, "local" floor traders were edged out, and the floor became ghost town. Now, when Maria Bartiromo reports from the floor (or the new attractive CNBC correspondent, whoever she may be these days), you see nothing but wooden parquet floor. The floor is now, for the most part, obsolete.

Obviously, this is not the first time in the history of the free-market economy that this has occurred, and it surely will not be the last. Strange it must be to not only lose one's job, but to have trained in a profession which is no longer needed by our society is a whole different kettle of fish. Once upon a time, boot-making and buggy-makers were a necessary part of our economy; mass-production of foot-ware and automobiles rendered both unnecessary, save the odd-man who does such things as a historical re-enactor at places like Colonial Williamsburg. Try as some might (and in the case of boot-makers they did, vis-a-vis the Knights of St. Crispin), you can't fight progress, even if there is a human cost. Sometimes, indeed many times, whole professions get wiped out in the process of implementing new, efficient ways of doing things. The term for this phenomenon is "creative destruction", coined by the economist Joseph Schumpeter. Roughly put, the term states that old ways will be destroyed by new efficient ways; indeed they must be destroyed.

The music and publishing industry are currently in a state of flux, but the issue here isn't that their business models are obsolete; clearly, they are. Newspapers make their money not from subscriptions or news-stand sales, but from advertising. (I know something about this, as my father was in the advertising sales end of the publishing industry.) The service known as Standard Rate & Data would give would-be advertisers some semblance of what type of market they would reach with each newspaper and/or magazine based on gender, age, income, etc., thus targeting said group to maximize product sales. This is where magazines, newspapers, periodicals, and published journals made their profits. (Political publications like the National Review, the New Republic, and the Nation, for example, operate at consistent losses; their ability to sustain themselves comes from donations from politically like-minded readers.) The problem now is the internet, and also, free services like Craig's List; the former gives one timely news, the latter gives one a wide range of classified ads. Ad in e-Bay and Amazon, and you've just sliced off a huge chunk of revenue from the newspaper/magazine industry. Wider readership and cheaper has spelled, what in all likelihood, will be the death knell for magazines and newspapers. There's one problem with all of this: what replaces them? What is the new business model? Alas, this is the question that hasn't been answered completely. True, news can be had by merely tapping into the Drudge Report or any other news website or news hub. A recent conversation with a friend yesterday focused on just this topic. His contention was that something will be lost, as newspapers like the New York Times, with a presence in all corners of the world, will no longer be able to keep reporters all over the world to report on things happening in places like, say, Nepal. Probably true, but then why keep an American reporter in south-east Asia when you could hire a local to report on the facts all the same? And given the inaccuracies of the American media, would anything necessarily be lost? I think not.

Ever more complex is the issue with the music business. I've slagged the music business pretty vociferously on this blog for years, and I stand by all of it, but I cannot see how this business model is even remotely sustainable. I recently got a shock of ice-cold water (metaphorically speaking) when I was in Union Square about a week ago and saw Virgin Megastore boarded up and shut-down. I did feel a pang of sadness over this, I must admit, specifically since I'd been coming and hanging out in Union Square for well over a decade. Virgin Megastore was a part of the backdrop for me, looking across the square facing south. Many days were passed weeding through the CD bins, the bookstore on the basement floor, and generally checking out what was new. All gone now, but not surprising so. I can't remember the last time I bought a CD, for it must be years now. Online downloading has completely taken whatever profit margin the record industry had and shrunk it down to the bare minimum, if that minimum is being met at all. (Doubtful that it is.) As for when I did buy CDs, I would buy one only to find one or two good songs and the rest filler. (Definition of filler: Substandard songs or jamming done specifically to eat up time on a CD or an LP.) Now, all one needs to do is download the song you like for .99 cents, and leave the rest. A gross sale of $15 per CD is now reduced to .99 cents, a 93% reduction. Additionally, if I don't have a CD and a friend does, I merely need to put that CD in my computer and voila-I have everything! It is no big mystery why the record companies have turned so strongly to producing rap albums: the overhead costs are minimal; all that is needed is a drum-machine, a sampler, and a street-tough incoherently rhyming about violence in some inscrutable ghetto patois. Things continue to go the direction that they're going in, there might not be a record industry in three years. One thing is for certain, it certainly isn't going to look like it has for the last thirty. As for newspapers, I'll cry very little for them. The informational hegemony they presided over has been shattered. No longer will there be people like Walter Duranty around to file bogus dispatches that paper over full-blown genocides...and we're all the better for that.

On Movies, Domestic And Foreign

I attempt to, from time to time, fit in with the tastes of the average American.  But in the end, I can't.  I'm not into football, other than reading the back pages of the New York Post about how the Jets squandered yet another season. I'm not really into basketball, except in passing. I am into hockey, but that's not terribly American (unless you hail from Minnesota or northern Michigan), and either way, the Rangers suck yet again this year.  I do like baseball, but with 162 some-odd games being played a season, I'd rather make other uses for my time. (I make a provision to watch the Yankees if/when they make the playoffs. I'd do the same for the Mets, if/when that occasion arises.)  But in the end, I don't dig on sports too much. 

Now, as for American movies, I just can't deal...at all.

Somewhere along the line, and I can't really gauge where, American movies became all about explosions, violence, sex and...that's pretty much it.  Story-lines ceased being important; explosions, special effects, and a super-hot actress to get the whole thing moving in the right direction became imperative.  And thus I made a decision, sometime during the mid-90's, to not bother seeing any more big budget Hollywood flicks.  The decision was a arrived at after seeing "Terminator 3" (or something like it).  I felt cheated, ripped-off, and patronized at that time, and the feeling has stayed with me ever since.  Snobbish? Absolutely...and unapologetically so.  And so I made the decision that there were only two types of movies I would see going forward: foreign and independent.  

Of course this is hit and miss, this way of doing things.  I've seen a few foreign movies that were entirely too arty and drawn-out to sit through.  ("Far Away, So Close!" by Wim Wenders comes to mind.) But the majority of them were great: "Kontroll", "Run Lola Run", "Broken Embraces", to name a few, were well worth the price of admission, and were edifying and thought-provoking from the moment that I left the theatre.  I can't remember the last American movie that I saw that was even remotely thought provoking; perhaps "The Godfather" or "Casino", but then, those were rarities.  Independent movies work differently. Devoid of significant budget, they have no choice but to rely on dialogue, complexity, and intelligence.  Once upon a time Quentin Tarantino fell into this category, but then he made it big with "Pulp Fiction"; now, puffed up full of a big budget and an even bigger commercial expectation,  he's awful.  In the inevitable conflict that is art versus commerce, as with modern music, commerce won and continues to win yet again. But not with the independents, and certainly not with the foreign movies. 

Paul Fussell once stated that he abandoned H.L. Mencken as a literary mentor when he went to the front lines of Europe during the Second World War.  To Fussell, Mencken's irony wasn't applicable anymore, as it was American in nature and was "deficient in the tragic sense".  This could be what lies at the heart of American cinema.  We all like a happy ending, us Americans. Sometimes, things end tragically, not happily.  More times than not, things may have a positive conclusion, but are bittersweet.  Not so with American cinema.  Happy endings must be achieved, though life certainly doesn't work that way.  And so, we get explosions, hot chicks, special effects, wild stunts, but inevitably, a triumphant ending.  Complexity and multi-dimension is eschewed to ensure that the maximum amount of the aforementioned aspects are prominently displayed in said movie.  Inevitably, what the American public gets are movies that are big, loud, and ultimately, utterly forgettable. 

For me, I'll stick with the subtitles, the irony, the complexity, and no explosions.  I want a story that I can dig into into.  If I want explosions, I'll buy some illegal fireworks and set 'em off myself. 

Beethoven's "Heiligenstädter Testament"

Beethoven wrote a letter to his brothers, but perhaps to the world, asking for understanding with regards to his erratic behavior.  He also professed his thoughts of suicide due to his miserable physical conditions, particularly his deafness.  It is extraordinarily powerful reading, and it ends on a message of hope.  

To wit:

For my brothers Carl and [Johann] Beethoven.

Oh you men who think or say that I am malevolent, stubborn, or misanthropic, how greatly do you wrong me. You do not know the secret cause which makes me seem that way to you. From childhood on, my heart and soul have been full of the tender feeling of goodwill, and I was even inclined to accomplish great things. But, think that for six years now I have been hopelessly afflicted, made worse by senseless physicians, from year to year deceived with hopes of improvement, finally compelled to face the prospect of a lasting malady (whose cure will take years or, perhaps, be impossible). Though born with a fiery, active temperament, even susceptible to the diversions of society, I was soon compelled to isolate myself, to live life alone. If at times I tried to forget all this, oh how harshly was I flung back by the doubly sad experience of my bad hearing. Yet it was impossible for me to say to people, "Speak louder, shout, for I am deaf." Ah, how could I possibly admit an infirmity in the one sense which ought to be more perfect in me than others, a sense which I once possessed in the highest perfection, a perfection such as few in my profession enjoy or ever have enjoyed. - Oh I cannot do it; therefore forgive me when you see me draw back when I would have gladly mingled with you. My misfortune is doubly painful to me because I am bound to be misunderstood; for me there can be no relaxation with my fellow men, no refined conversations, no mutual exchange of ideas. I must live almost alone, like one who has been banished; I can mix with society only as much as true necessity demands. If I approach near to people a hot terror seizes upon me, and I fear being exposed to the danger that my condition might be noticed. Thus it has been during the last six months which I have spent in the country. By ordering me to spare my hearing as much as possible, my intelligent doctor almost fell in with my own present frame of mind, though sometimes I ran counter to it by yielding to my desire for companionship. But what a humiliation for me when someone standing next to me heard a flute in the distance and I heard nothing, or someone standing next to me heard a shepherd singing and again I heard nothing. Such incidents drove me almost to despair; a little more of that and I would have ended me life - it was only my art that held me back. Ah, it seemed to me impossible to leave the world until I had brought forth all that I felt was within me. So I endured this wretched existence - truly wretched for so susceptible a body, which can be thrown by a sudden change from the best condition to the very worst. - Patience, they say, is what I must now choose for my guide, and I have done so - I hope my determination will remain firm to endure until it pleases the inexorable Parcae to break the thread. Perhaps I shall get better, perhaps not; I am ready. - Forced to become a philosopher already in my twenty-eighth year, - oh it is not easy, and for the artist much more difficult than for anyone else. - Divine One, thou seest my inmost soul thou knowest that therein dwells the love of mankind and the desire to do good. - Oh fellow men, when at some point you read this, consider then that you have done me an injustice; someone who has had misfortune man console himself to find a similar case to his, who despite all the limitations of Nature nevertheless did everything within his powers to become accepted among worthy artists and men. - You, my brothers Carl and [Johann], as soon as I am dead, if Dr. Schmid is still alive, ask him in my name to describe my malady, and attach this written documentation to his account of my illness so that so far as it possible at least the world may become reconciled to me after my death. - At the same time, I declare you two to be the heirs to my small fortune (if so it can be called); divide it fairly; bear with and help each other. What injury you have done me you know was long ago forgiven. To you, brother Carl, I give special thanks for the attachment you have shown me of late. It is my wish that you may have a better and freer life than I have had. Recommend virtue to your children; it alone, not money, can make them happy. I speak from experience; this was what upheld me in time of misery. Thanks to it and to my art, I did not end my life by suicide - Farewell and love each other - I thank all my friends, particularly Prince Lichnowsky and Professor Schmid - I would like the instruments from Prince L. to be preserved by one of you, but not to be the cause of strife between you, and as soon as they can serve you a better purpose, then sell them. How happy I shall be if can still be helpful to you in my grave - so be it. - With joy I hasten towards death. - If it comes before I have had the chance to develop all my artistic capacities, it will still be coming too soon despite my harsh fate, and I should probably wish it later - yet even so I should be happy, for would it not free me from a state of endless suffering? - Come when thou wilt, I shall meet thee bravely. - Farewell and do not wholly forget me when I am dead; I deserve this from you, for during my lifetime I was thinking of you often and of ways to make you happy - be so -

Ludwig van Beethoven
Heiglnstadt,
October 6th, 1802

Caterwauling About The State Of Modern Music, Yet Again....

Distressing thing, really....the state of pop music. Things have grown so depressing that I've taken up digging through music that was produced in the 60's, 70's, (some 80's) in a mad quest to find something remotely interesting that I might have missed the first time around. (Actually, I'm digging as far back as four hundred years ago.) That I have, but it doesn't rankle less to see the state of music is so substandard that I'm starting to question the whether Western Civilization as a whole is going to make it....but then, that's a topic for another post....

It is either a blessing or a curse to be extremely knowledgeable about music, its history, its forms and the like. Even more so, unlike the average music listener (and that isn't a dig on them, mind) I pick up on the trends, the recycled lyrical content, the retreaded guitar sounds, etc. The same keys, the same chord changes, the same sounds, the same format....endlessly and repeatedly regurgitated to an otherwise oblivious general public. Rock in particular has fallen into this horrible ditch; the last gasp of anything remotely creative from rock was in the late 80's/early 90's, and even then, it didn't even come close to matching its glory years between 1967-1975. Of all the bands from the aforementioned late 80's/early 90's, the only ones still standing are Pearl Jam, who are so cringe-worthy and torpid as to render them unlistenable.

Now...how DID this happen, one has to ask. Various theories abound, but the great Bill Bruford opined about this pretty extensively in his autobiography, and his theory is thus: The death of creativity in pop music can be traced back to when publicly traded companies, responsible to post quarterly earnings, started taking over record companies and adding them to their media conglomerate empires. In the beginnings of rock, the music existed before the record companies could dream it up. It was a permutation of black American blues: raucous, untamed, and free. The "suits", even in the 50's, did their level best to get their arms around it and exploit it for monetary gain. But even then, the creativity wasn't bled out of it. Then came the 60's: The Beatles, The Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkle...all representing forms that were either wholly original or creatively stolen (probably closer to the latter), but sounded fresh and creative nonetheless. The power was with the artists, not the executives, yet both prospered. The early 70's, particularly the progressive rock movement, marked the apex of creativity in rock music (in my opinion). Emerson, Lake & Palmer liberally ripped off classical music in the most aggressive way, but who could possibly have the ability to do so in the first place? Keith Emerson was about as talented musician as rock would ever see. Yes got away with writing twenty minute opuses on three straight albums. Genesis did a whole album based on a surreal (and incomprehensible) story by Peter Gabriel written about a Puerto Rican street kid who finds himself in a kind of Salvador Dali world, desperately trying to get out...a musical journey spread out over two LPs. Pink Floyd might have produced (according to some critical opinions) the 70's equivalent of "Sgt. Pepper" with their "Dark Side of the Moon". Inevitably, the question that beggars to be asked is this: What are the chances that a record company would ever, EVER let any of these bands produce any of these works in this day and age. The answer is obvious; Q.E.D.

Everything is short term. In an earlier time, a band was given three albums to "get it together". The first two albums from Yes were interesting experiments, but they didn't hit their stride until "The Yes Album", which is where the material that made up their classic catalog began. Two albums later, "Close to the Edge" managed to bring it all together into one timeless album. Led Zeppelin hit their stride by their second album, but it was "IV" that produced songs like "Black Dog" and "Stairway to Heaven". Now, bands have ONE album to come up with a hit. If they're lucky, they'll get two, but that's chancy. Record companies need hits; they need quarterly earnings to be positive, lest their stock prices tank and their investors grow disgruntled. In the conflict between art and commerce, art may have won a few battles, but it clearly lost the war. Now the best any of us rock fans can muster is Tool, a good (but not great) band that is entirely too harsh for these ears. Closer to it is Nickelback, who are the perfect distillation of blandness, regurgitated barre chords, stale riffs, and obvious key changes. The food equivalent would be eating three month old crackers: edible but stale.

Per this listener, I'm still hoping, still digging. I've postulated since college that there's ALWAYS something interesting to find out there, one need only dig a little deeper, look a little longer. I have found some interesting acts out there, but you'll never hear them on the radio. I frequent a bar in Greenwich Village called the 55 Bar; I've been there three times and have yet to hear an act that didn't impress me. If going to dank music clubs that are approximately 600 square feet to hear something good is what I've been reduced to doing, that is what I will do. If listening to Big Band composers like Bix Beiderbecke and Count Basie for inspiration is what I have to do, I'll do it. If scouring online radio sources like Pandora (as opposed to real radio, which is atrocious) is what need to be done, I'll do it. But one thing I'll never do is accept the status quo and learn to like it.

Looking "Community Organizing" In The Face...And It Ain't Pretty

A few things that need to be cleared up right away:

I work for a very large financial institution in downtown Manhattan. I, needless to say, work in finance. I'll say no more on that, and only mention it to give the proper shading to the story I'm about to post. And so the story is this....

'Round about twelve o'clock today, a group of about 300 people appeared on the plaza of my building, chanting, yelling, and generally making a ruckus. Having lived and worked in Manhattan for the better part of my professional life (actually, ALL of my professional life), I've grown accustomed to this kind of unorthodoxy, as it is a daily part of being a part of this city. But this was no ordinary day, you see. The minions of ACORN, the scandal-ridden "community organization" descended up on my beloved financial institution, heaping scorn and ridicule on my CEO. (Note: They've changed their name to some other snappy acronym, but it's the same people.) One particularly amusing placard read that the CEO of my financial institution "hates puppies"; another amusing one stated that my financial institution should be "foreclosed" upon. Strangely, furniture was parked on the plaza. (Some of it was actually pretty nice.) The mob found their way into the lobby of my building, chanting, whistling, and generally disrupting an otherwise pleasant business day. They were summarily expelled from the indoors, but did manage to stick around the plaza for about another forty-five minutes.

Now, this is what really annoys me about this whole exercise. What we're talking about here are people who are demanding that my bank, which is a privately held institution, should be loosening its lending standards to accommodate low-income, high-risk borrowers. Their theory, and also President Obama's contention, is that these financial institutions should loosen their credit since they took money from the federal government to get themselves out of a jam. All fair, were it not for the fact that the reason these financial institutions got themselves into a jam is because they had loose lending standards, due in no small part to the federal government prevailing upon them through moral suasion and outright threats to do so vis-a-vis the Community Reinvestment Act. When Obama's economic advisors say things like "we need to get the banks to start lending like crazy" (attributed to Christine Romer), I'm rendered speechless. That was the very reason why financial institutions got themselves into this jam in the first place. The government forced them to make sub-prime loans, which caved the whole industry. The Fed and the Treasury subsequently bailed them out, but now they're BLAMING them for making bad loans, while at the same time admonishing them to make MORE bad loans, this time to small businesses, because unemployment is going up and Obama's "stimulus" package failed to stop unemployment from going up. (Unemployment was at 7.4% when it was passed; it is now at 10%.)

It is a mad, mad world.

For more on ACORN:

http://biggovernment.com/2009/11/23/acorn-scandal-part-2-the-evidentiary-phase/

And Here We Are Again Once More....

Haven't posted for about two years, for the very simple reason that:

a.) My work schedule at that time was punishing, and I was finding it increasingly hard to find the time, energy, or brainpower to come up with anything even remotely interesting to say.

b.) See entry a.)

All things being equal, I've decided to take another crack at the blogosphere for the very simple reason that, aside from being (somewhat) intellectually stimulating, it also serves as a pretty neat time capsule/journal. Additionally, it allows me to continue to hone my writing chops, to punctuate, spell, and form coherent sentences. There's been a fair amount of reading that has been done since my last blog entry, so there's a plethora of knowledge to draw from that is fresh and new. No more stale postings....for a while, hopefully.

And we'll have fun, fun, fun 'til our daddy takes the T-Bird away....