Click the photo for more snaps from the show.

I had absurdly high expectations for Free the Robots' OC live debut—and, knock me over with a feather, those expectations were exceeded. That experience is so rare, I'd almost forgotten what it feels like. Seeing Free the Robots (SanTana impresario/musicians Chris Alfaro and Phil Nisco, who are also readying the potentially awesome Crosby restaurant/club) walk off the stage at Detroit Bar after their riveting, teasingly brief set, I was overwhelmed with a selfish desire for them to extend their performance indefinitely, work tomorrow be damned. Yes, Free the Robots are so good, they can inspire irresponsible urges in music editors.

With Nisco manning the Nord Electro 2 keyboard and Alfaro handling the Akai MPD24 pad controller, PowerBook and Vestax turntable, the duo started with a goth-hop head-nodder fueled by a Black Sabbath vocal sample (don't tell Ozzy—or Sharon). They proceeded with more eerie downtempo funk that could chill the Wu-Tang Clan's marrow. Alfaro's intricate beat programming with frantic marimba embellishments made “Yoga Fire” a dynamite pulse-elevator. The accelerated funk with shimmering, shattered guitar riff of “Wake Up Or Die” was an indelible favorite, and ditto for the baroque, moody-blue prog-hop of “Diary.”

The sizable crowd bellowed for an encore, but Free the Robots appeared to be spent. However, they called a friend named Hannah onstage to play the sassily swinging “Jazzhole” on the Nord, which really emphasized the song's upliftingly melancholy tune.

In 2007, it's extremely hard to add new wrinkles to hip-hop's three-decade-old visage, but Free the Robots are doing just that. With their distinctive beat patterns, memorably odd melodies and tracks that allude to the florid end of progressive and heavy rock and really old-school jazz, these young Orange County artists are creating music that's both playful and seriously inventive. I am confident in predicting that Free the Robots are one or two break(beat)s away from blowing up nationally.

Alfaro (far left) and Nisco (second from right) will be soundbombing Detroit Bar tonight.

Recent OC Weekly cover boys Chris Alfaro (aka Free the Robots) and Phil Nisco (Black Lung Pop) will be joining forces tonight for their first live performance in an Orange County venue. The Santa Ana musicians are taking a break from getting their restaurant/club The Crosby ready in order to drop some scintillating sonic science for homie Dan Sena's Busywork night at Detroit Bar.

With Free the Robots' inventive jazz/psych/prog-accented instrumental hip-hop (he earned the honor of best local hip-hop artist in this week's best-of issue) combining with Nisco's nuanced experimental-rock instincts, some thrilling sparks should ensue. In a MySpace bulletin, Alfaro said: “Prepare for some weird shit! A bit of change from what you're used to... It's loud, it's moody, it's dirty, it's everything you want it to be, all in one live electronic session.”

Iconic British punk group the Sex Pistols have re-recorded “Anarchy in the U.K.” for the video game Guitar Hero™ III: Legends of Rock; they've also redone “Pretty Vacant” for another game called skate. Original members John Lydon, guitarist Steve Jones and drummer Paul Cook cut the track with Chris Thomas in London's Air Studios. The band—including original bassist Glen Matlock—will also play in that city's Brixton Academy Nov. 8-10 [all dates are sold out], and to complete the Pistols multimedia blast, their sole studio album, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here are the Sex Pistols, will be reissued on vinyl on Oct. 29, 30 years after its initial release.

I've never been hung up about musicians maintaining punk-rock integrity, but it seems as if these moves (the video-game re-recording and reunion show sans Sid Vicious, whose corpse could probably play bass just as well as he did while alive) will chap some uptight, denim-clad asses. Cynical cash-ins apparently are now punk rock, dig? Nurse, administer the smelling salts...

Here's the Sex Pistols in more fresh-faced days performing “Anarchy.”

Full press release after the jump.

It's not Friday, but we thought we'd give out tickets anyway.

Who? Toots & The Maytals
When? Wednesday, September 26th at 7pm
Where? House of Blues, 1530 Disneyland Blvd., Anaheim, CA

To nab one of the 25 pairs we've got, email: ocpromotions AT ocweekly DOT com with your NAME, AGE, and PHONE NUMBER. Venue is 16+ without a guardian.

(Note: free parking for 3 hrs, 4 extra hours with validation from the venue)

Use this.

I don't know what the deal is, but lately I've been receiving a lot of phone calls and emails from musicians asking how they can get their work reviewed in this paper, as if there were some great mystery involved.

It's really quite simple; bands have been doing it for decades (or paying people to do it for them for that long). I'm only going to say this once, as I don't have time to field calls and reply to emails all day about this awfully basic concept. If you're a friend of a musician who doesn't have internet access or who doesn't read this blog, please pass on this info to him/her. Here goes...

1.Record extraordinary music.
2.Put that extraordinary music onto a format such as CD or vinyl (MP3s are shite, mate).
3.Send that extraordinary music to me at this address, or drop it off yourself: Dave Segal/OC Weekly, 1666 N Main St #500, Santa Ana CA 92701
4.Give me 7-10 days to listen to and evaluate your (I hope) extraordinary music, then shoot me an email [dsegal@ocweekly.com] to ask about coverage.
5.Keep expectations low, as space is limited, releases are plentiful and the music editor is a picky bastard.

And that's it. Good luck.

As my colleague Erin DeWitt has pointed out, other than Machine Head and a couple of anonymous House of Blues employees, none of the main mucky-mucks involved in the Disney-bans-metal controversy are talking. At all. And the speech clampdown has filtered down through all levels of the Anaheim HOB, so much that not even the bartenders, security or service-industry workers will sing.

That's what I found last night at the Rentals/Copeland/Goldenboy show. Asked a server in the restaurant, “Hey, what's this about metal shows being banned?” -- got a “You'll have to ask someone inside the club.”

Asked one of the wand-waving security dudes: “I don't know anything about that.”

Asked the upstairs patio bartender, one who looked vaguely “metal”-ish with his scraggly goatee, who might have wanted to vent his pissed-offness to me (and after I told him about reading an LA Times article about the ban over the weekend): “I dunno, I don't read newspapers...” then, pointing to a fellow barkeep nearby, “...and neither does she.”

Guy, you better be making some serious bank at your job if you're that afraid of losing it.

Anaheim’s House Of Blues cancellation of the Machine Head show earlier this month was just the beginning in Disney’s slow and steady elimination of all things metal.

Immediately after the cancellation, Machine Head released a statement citing the venue’s reasons for canceling the show (with just a 48 hour notice) as “undesirable fans” and “offensive lyrics”. Within days, Orlando’s House Of Blues, also on Disney property, dropped the band’s Sept. 17 date.

Rumors started to swirl that Disney had heavily pressured and even threatened Live Nation (the promoter who owns the House Of Blues chain) to eliminate the show even though it meant the venue would be dark that night.

Disgruntled Anaheim HOB employees blamed new Talent Buyer Todd Miller, who handles all of the in-house booking, as the cause of the first cancellation. However, once the 2nd cancellation occurred across the country, it was obvious the decision came from higher up.

Miller, who had only started 2 weeks earlier, had no comment and suggested statements be obtained from Live Nation VP of Communications John Vlautin.

Vlautin had (surprise, surprise) no comment either.

The recently launched FlogMusic.com hopes to become “the most comprehensive review-aggregator on the Internet,” according to San Francisco-based owner/founder Kara Murphy. At the core of this ambitious project resides the touchingly naïve belief that most people still have faith in the expertise of professional music critics. As a critic myself, I support what FlogMusic.com is attempting to do and wish it the best of luck. As an outside observer, I have doubts this site will catch on in a major way or usurp metacritic.com, although I hope I'm wrong. Let a thousand music-criticism aggregators bloom.

Murphy says FlogMusic will differ from all other such sites “because it breaks music down by genre so people know what's out right now. The charts, according to Billboard and Dusted Magazine, let people know what's especially popular.”

Anyway, for the curious, you can view what publications it will be mining for opinions (this list will expand, Murphy notes) and its rating system here. Flog will also have a blog.

After the jump is the press release. Go forth and read and consume.

Holy Fuck, generating more aural ecstasy. Photo by Jalapeño

I raved about the Holy Fuck live experience (no, it's not a nun/clergy orgy, but isn't that a pretty thought?) before in this Heard Mentality post, but that show was a mere warm-up for what transpired last night. From start to finish at their Prospector gig, the Toronto quartet proved that they are one of the best bands in the world right now. (They're currently opening for Wolf Parade on a North American tour, which hit The Glass House Saturday; Sunday's was a special one-off performance with their Long Beach buds Free Moral Agents.)

The archetypal Holy Fuck song is propulsive and mesmerizing, powered by lean, motorik grooves and ornamented with juddering, chromium keyboard tones and whorling solar-wind effects forged from gear that appears to predate the Reagan era. Their tracks typically are relentless cascades of bass and keyboards (and occasionally melodica) that build to shattering climaxes and then stop abruptly. One track near set's end seems to spring out of the coda from the Who's “Baba O'Riley” and takes it even further out with accelerating spasms of analog-synth histrionics. The exception to the rule is “Lovely Allen,” which is the most vertical Holy Fuck song and the one possessing the most soul-stirring melody. You will reflexively raise your illuminated cell phone to it upon impact.

Between one lull in the action, somebody shouted, “More bass!” Someone else yelled, “More drums!” Another wiseacre cracked, “More notes!” The paradox of Holy Fuck is that they're minimalists with a massive sound who should be playing Honda Center, not the tiny Prospector. And they don't need more of anything (except maybe cowbell). With their dubadelic techno-funk excursions that could theoretically ramble on till the sun bursts, Holy Fuck are ecstasy-generators par excellence.

After the set, I asked keyboardist Brian Borcherdt how in the hell had Holy Fuck become the best band in the world since I last saw them in May. He laughed and said, “Um, just add water?” Even stranger, the masses of indie-pop kids who flock to Wolf Parade concerts have been digging the Holy Fuck jams. There may be hope for humanity yet.

Free Moral Agents get tighter and more majestic every time I see 'em. If Siouxsie and the Banshees in their prime were a florid prog-rock and a brutal dub ensemble totally devoid of cliché, they might sound as amazing as Free Moral Agents. They're another band better suited for a cavernous venue instead of the tiny confines of The Prospector. The Mars Volta (with whom FMA's keyboardist Ikey Owens also plays) should take them on their next tour, although they run the risk of being outshone by their openers.

UPDATE: Photos from Payback are up.

Us Southern Californians sure don’t like to give up our summers. In fact, it took Costa Mesa’s Detroit Bar half way through September before they held Payback, an End Of Summer party.

But our favorite season went out with a bang this year. Technically summer doesn't end until the 23rd, but it might as well be over since everyone's back in school.

The usual boundaries of Detroit spilled out into the parking lot with a huge covered tent for all the smokers and night sky admirers.

Inside, the masses ran back and forth between dueling DJs in two rooms. Long Beach favorites Mashed Potatos played an early set spinning remixes of practically everything you can think of (highlight: Rockwell’s “Somebody’s Watching Me”).

Them Jean rocked the house as always, pumping the air full of crunk and attitude, keeping in tone with the live set by Sparrow Love Crew, who got the floor quaking with a healthy dose of ghettotech.

Le Receptionist was there to take photos of all the artists, musicians (Hi, Cavil At Rest!) and all around gorgeous people who came to dance and drink and close the place down at 2 a.m.

In those early hours, the sea of drunks and half drunks were ushered out, disrupting the quiet city with their lingering inebriated ardor.

To soak up the booze, most found their way around the corner to Rooster Cafe (open til 3 a.m.), where Le Receptionist found the floor.

This weekend, we're giving away ten pairs of tix, lovely readers.

Five are for the Supersuckers + Punk Rock Karaoke show on Wed, September 19, at the Anaheim House Of Blues.

The other five are for Bad Brains + Whole Wheat Bread at the same venue on Tue, September 25.

To score a pair, email: ocpromotions AT ocweekly DOT com with your NAME, AGE, and PHONE NUMBER. Venue is 16+ without a guardian, and all ages with.

Parking is free for 3 hours, and with validation during the show, you can gain an additional 3 hours extra.

Enjoy!

UPDATE: Photos of F.I.L.T.H.E.E. and co are up!

"Blaze it up!" yells flashy front man F.I.L.T.H.E.E. ( say that five times fast! ) a.k.a Brickmanraw, and no, he's not referring to the music, but apparently, "They said it's ok!"

What was ok? I wondered.

Suddenly a disembodied hand appeared from the small crowd gathered in front of the stage, holding much too intricate a pipe - ablaze with that sticky icky Cali green as a blunt began its' rounds along the very empty, very spacious dance floor. He grinned widely and devilishly, still rappin', as sweat poured down his face - microphone on the verge of slipping down his throat.

Security finally showed, but not before everyone was high as a kite.

Actually I'm going to guess that they didn't say it was ok, Mr. F.I.L.T.H.E.E., but you gave it one hell of a shot! Absolutely amusing as hell, this guy.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined such an entertaining hip hop event as this in my hometown of Garden Grove. Why fate would gather a slew of talented rappers together at Belluno's/Citrus Lounge ( of all places ) on the corner of Harbor and frickin' Chapman, is beyond me.

Photo: Suzie Ahn

Leviathan Brothers' keyboardist (and occasional OC Weekly contributor) Sean O'Connell announced from the DiPiazzas stage: “This week marks the sixth year of the five-year anniversary of Tupac's death. To commemorate the occasion, we're going to play an original.” Now that's wit. He and his band mate, drummer Miles Senzaki, then commenced to forge a moving soul-jazz composition that cascaded with great beauty.

Rare is the group for whom between-song banter alone is worth the price of admission, but such is the case with Leviathan Brothers. The fact that the Hawthorne-based duo create rhythmically kinetic and elegantly melodic compositions and inventively extrapolate on some classic pop tunes (including Lou Reed's “Perfect Day,” Nilsson's “One,” Beach Boys' “Don't Talk [Put Your Head on My Shoulder],” David Bowie's “Life on Mars?”) is a huge bonus.

Recalling Medeski, Martin + Wood and the Bad Plus, minus the bass, of course (4-stringer Miguel Sawaya departed after LB's self-titled 2006 EP), Leviathan Brothers possess excellent chops, tight song structures and zero jazz-snob stodginess. Their improvisational tangents balance observatory training with playfulness and just enough cowbell (more would be gratuitous and too obvious). Tonight's rendition of “Life on Mars?” is done with glamboyant flair and the surging dynamics and purging dramatics of a Cold War Kids song would likely have caused its creators to blush over how great LB made it sound.

Leviathan Brothers had the light but very appreciative crowd hollering for more by set's end, so the band did the honorable thing: They called it an evening.

[Below is a video of Leviathan Brothers' “Playground Love,” an Air song from the Suicide Girls soundtrack.]

For your next trés-chic electronic-music party (or rave, if you still go to them), you may want to don this doozy of an invention: the beat dress.

Gearfuse's Sean Fallon breaks down the components of this fabulous garment for you:

“The spectacular 'Beat Dress' seen above was part of a project conducted for a Fashion and Technology course at the School of Arts and Communication at Malmö University. The light show comes courtesy of 10 detachable patches on the dress that are equipped with 10 LEDs. There is also a microphone and a small equalizer connected to a microcomputer that picks up ambient sounds or music. When detected, the computer instructs the LEDs to light up in time with the beat. The cool 3D effect is produced by two layers of see-through cloth and a single layer of nylon that help to 'spread the light from the LEDs to larger clusters.'”

Gives new meaning to the compliment, “You look radiant.”

(Thanks to bailee for the tip.)

Start saving your money for Led Zeppelin's reunion concert (John Bonham's son Jason is subbing for his deceased dad on the drum kit), which takes place Nov. 26 at London's O2 Arena. This will be a tribute to the late Ahmet Ertegün, the Atlantic Records founder/producer/executive who signed Zep, among many other music biz superstars. Other artists performing at the concert include Pete Townshend, Bill Wyman and the Rhythm Kings, Foreigner and Paolo Nutini.

Tickets will cost you £125 per, which will be available by ballot only, due to the anticipated demand to see one of the world's most popular heavy rock bands, who recorded six stone-classic LPs during their existence.

Also, says the press release, “Profits from this amazing show will go to the Ahmet Ertegün Education Fund, which provides students with annual scholarships to universities in the UK, USA and Turkey. In addition, a music scholarship open to all will be established at Ravensbourne College in the UK.”

Here, because you need coolin' and I'm not foolin', is a video of the second greatest psychedelic blues song ever (“Dazed and Confused” just nudges it out for the top spot).

Nominated for 5 moon men at the MTV Awards held Sunday, Mr. West did not win any of them.
This tantrum ensued:

Kanye threatens never to return to MTV.
Oh, puh-leese!
We all know that statement's as empty as 50's threat to retire.

DJ Nobody: Twice as important as most OC musicians.

Orange County has been a fertile breeding ground for musicians of many stripes since the beginning of electricity. We at Heard Mentality would like to ask you—the good-looking, intelligent readers of this blog—for your opinions on this important matter [see headline]. Let us know who you think deserves to be on this auspicious list; and if you wish to explain why they merit inclusion, by all means shout it out loud in the comments box. [Note: We're including Long Beach musicians in this poll, because we regularly cover that city in the paper.]

We'll start this thing with 5 of our choices.

The Mars Volta: rejuvenating ambitious prog rock for the youth and making bank with it; plus, awesome afros.
Snoop Dogg: uniquely laid-back flow, charming way with un-PC lyrics, g-funk/gangsta-rap icon.
DJ Nobody: from soul-jazz-inflected hip-hop to aquatic psych-pop to producing backpacker-rap classics for Busdriver to his new bliss-hop unit Blank Blue, this cat has the Midas touch.
Free the Robots: wildly inventive instrumental hip-hop with unusual and cleverly deployed sample sources; just may be the future of sampladelia.
Heru Avenger: unjustly obscure psychedelic-jazz-funk-electronic-prog fusion project led by guitar hero John Basil. Builds upon the most out-there work of Miles Davis, Heldon, Hawkwind and other immortals.

And here are some selections from our clubs editor Erin DeWitt:

-Gwen Stefani/No Doubt
-Offspring
-Sublime
-Long Beach Dub Allstars (some members went on to form Long Beach Shortbus)
-Warren G
-Frank Black
-Coaxial
-War
-Aquabats
-Avenged Sevenfold
-Matt Costa
-Guttermouth
-(hed) p.e.
-Slayer
-Vandals
-T.S.O.L.
-Scott Weiland
-Eighteen Visions
-Atreyu
-Jeff Buckley
-Home Grown
-Joy Electric
-Reel Big Fish
-Rx Bandits
-Save Ferris
-Sugar Ray

Now it's your turn, dear readers. Ready, set, opine!

Oh, mantra: Magic Lantern at The Prospector.

What a nice psychedelic night this turned out to be. I went to The Prospector in Long Beach mainly to catch Frederick Phases (aka Jeff Moore), a DJ who co-hosts with Elvin “DJ Nobody” Estela KXLU's She Comes in Colours, a show specializing in '60s psych rock and folkadelia. His set—along with his fellow selector J. Mendez' shoegaze-rock-oriented selections—did not disappoint, as he laid down some exhilarating obscurities from around the globe (Italy's Le Orme and Hungary's Illés being two particularly awesome gems I am now hotly hunting down). The man's a treasure trove of arcane sonic delights and if you have any interest at all in psychedelia, you owe it to yourself to check out his show on Mondays midnight-2 a.m. or any club gigs he does.

I hadn't heard the bands on the bill before, but they made a profound impression and definitely will merit further exploration from this writer. Despite being saddled with a name no band should even consider using in 2007, Magic Lantern quickly steamrolled my skepticism with hypnotic, throbbing rock instrumentals that reminded me of the late great UK band Loop—not an influence you hear every day (or night). Magic Lantern's songs—mantras would be a more accurate term, actually—burrow deep into your consciousness through repetition and intense, densely textured riffage. It's very hard to make this sort of music exciting, especially in a time when attention spans are diminishing like Republican-party credibility, but these five Long Beach dudes find the ecstasy in stasis and ride it into the sun with distortion pedals a-blazin'.

Crystal Antlers have a bit of a buzz going, and now I understand why. Holy bananas, do they bring it. With special guest Ikey Owens (Free Moral Agents, Mars Volta, etc.) absolutely burning on organ, this Long Beach quartet peddle a kind of supercharged garage soul, somewhere between first-album Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and the Hospitals. Imagine a group with every member being imbued by the energy and passion of Otis Redding and Iggy Pop and you get an idea of the aural turbulence Crystal Antlers manifest (I exaggerate only slightly). They play MAXIMAL music possessed of a manic, cyclonic power. It's not so much in your face as it is drilling into your gray matter, ferociously striving to rearrange your god-damned thoughts. With Crystal Antlers, more is more... and then some.

UPDATE: Club pix are up.

Thursday night was a little bit different from the usual dance party that is Call Sick On Friday.

It brought the best of both nightlife worlds: the beginning was dedicated to live music, the end belonged to digital.

Held at Que Sera, this week’s Call Sick opened with Long Beach darlings Repeater, who did an amazing set of their frenzied, cerebral brand of shoegaze.

Around Midnight the DJ took over and spun the crowd into a frenzy with smashes and remixes of early 90’s top forty (remember 20 Fingers?), old skool hip hop like Notorious B.I.G., mid ‘90s Madonna, turn of the century Daft Punk and last years Fergie.

The crowd was as chic and dashing as all Call Sick events are, my favorite photographer Fever Dragon will have pictures for you Monday.

Call Sick On Friday is held the first and third Thursday of every month at Que Sera in Long Beach. www.myspace.com/callsickonfriday

Awesome Mexican folk-metal group Rodrigo y Gabriela have had to cancel the rest of their North American tour (which was going to hit the Grove of Anaheim Sept. 13) due to the latter's exhaustion. They hope to return to the road in October.

You can read Rex Reason's feature in this week's OC Weekly here and my review of their live set at Gibson Amphitheatre earlier this year here.

Full press release after the jump.

Meanwhile, here's a video of them performing a song you thought you never needed to hear again (but you were wrong).

This week's giveaway: THE SLACKERS at Anaheim House Of Blues on September 11th in the Downtown Disney District.

To score a pair of tickets, email: ocpromotions AT ocweekly DOT com with your NAME, AGE, and PHONE NUMBER. Venue is 16+ without a guardian, and all ages with.

Parking is free for 3 hours, and with validation during the show, you can gain an additional 3 hours extra.

Raise your hand if you saw this coming...

The powers that be at Walt Disney Properties have pressured concert promoter Live Nation into cancelling tomorrow’s Machine Head show at the House Of Blues, the reason being “violent imagery, undesirable fans and inflammatory lyrics”.

The Happiest Place On Earth? Not if you’re a metal fan. Mickey thinks you’re “undesirable”, therefore not welcome in his squeaky clean Magic Kingdom.

Censorship? Discrimination? Click here for the full story, then decide for yourself.

Cancelled less than 48 hours before the show (although tickets had been on sale for 2 months), Live Nation’s Paul McGuigan miraculously moved the show to the Glass House in Pomona with just a day’s notice.

All tickets will be honored at the Glass House on Friday September 7, for those willing to travel to Pomona instead of Anaheim (a 25 mile difference). Those unwilling to make the drive can have their tickets refunded in full.

The New York Times Magazine's Lynn Hirschberg ponders this crucial matter and concludes that Rubin, the Def Jam impresario/producer (Jay-Z, Beastie Boys, Slayer, Dixie Chicks, Johnny Cash and 17,000 others) who's now employed by Columbia Records, just may be the mensch to prevent this Titanic from sinking. Or is he merely rearranging the deck chairs on said vessel? I dunno; I can't think of anything right now except for Rubin's beard...

But seriously, the feature's interesting, especially if you work in the music industry, leech off of it (I'm looking at you, fellow music journalists... and me), or are trying to make it within the beast as a recording artist. Everyone except the most in-denial record-industry doofuses believes that the business model is busted. Major labels (and to a lesser extent indies) need to adapt to emerging technologies and shifting consumer attitudes and figure out how to find new revenue streams, or perish. Because the piece is long and your attention spans are short, I've collated the hottest money quotes for your convenience.

* * *
Rubin: "The most important thing we have to do now is get the art right. So many of the decisions at these companies have not been about the music. They sign artists for the wrong reasons ‹ because they think somebody else wants them or if they need to have a record out by a certain date. That old way of doing things is obsolete, but luckily, fear is making the record companies less arrogant. They're more open to ideas. So, what's important now is to find music that's timeless. I still believe that if an artist gains the belief of the listener, then anything is possible."

* * *
This summer, Columbia Records began a program called Big Red. The company invited 20 college students from Harvard, Penn State and the University of Miami to work on various music projects. The interns concentrated mostly on the digital marketing and promotions departments in Columbia's offices in Midtown Manhattan, which are on Madison Avenue in a granite skyscraper designed by Philip Johnson.

At the end of their paid internships, the students took part in focus groups that were closely observed by Steve Barnett, Rubin's co-head at the label, and Mark DiDia, whom Rubin brought in as head of operations, as well as by other Columbia executives. The focus groups may have been the real point of Big Red—Barnett and the New York executives, especially those who had been at Sony for years, wanted to try to take the pulse of the elusive music audience. "The Big Red focus groups were both depressing and informative, and they confirmed what I—and Rick—already knew," DiDia told me afterward. "The kids all said that a) no one listens to the radio anymore, b) they mostly steal music, but they don't consider it stealing, and c) they get most of their music from iTunes on their iPod. They told us that MySpace is over, it's just not cool anymore; Facebook is still cool, but that might not last much longer; and the biggest thing in their life is word of mouth. That's how they hear about music, bands, everything."

* * *
Rubin: "In the past, I've tried to protect artists from the label, and now my job would also be to protect the label from itself. So many of the decisions at these companies are not about the music. They are shortsighted and desperate. For so long, the record industry had control. But now that monopoly has ended, they don't know what to do. I thought it would be an interesting challenge."

* * *
To combat the devastating impact of file sharing, [Rubin], like others in the music business (Doug Morris and Jimmy Iovine at Universal, for instance), says that the future of the industry is a subscription model, much like paid cable on a television set. "You would subscribe to music," Rubin explained, as he settled on the velvet couch in his library. "You'd pay, say, $19.95 a month, and the music will come anywhere you'd like. In this new world, there will be a virtual library that will be accessible from your car, from your cellphone, from your computer, from your television. Anywhere. The iPod will be obsolete, but there would be a Walkman-like device you could plug into speakers at home. You'll say, 'Today I want to listen to ... Simon and Garfunkel,' and there they are. The service can have demos, bootlegs, concerts, whatever context the artist wants to put out. And once that model is put into place, the industry will grow 10 times the size it is now."

* * *
"Either all the record companies will get together or the industry will fall apart and someone like Microsoft will come in and buy one of the companies at wholesale and do what needs to be done," [Rubin] said.

* * *
[Columbia Records exec Steve] Barnett has other ideas, which he is discussing with Rubin. For instance, asking Columbia artists to give the record company up to 50 percent of their touring, merchandising and online revenue. [That sound you hear is the unison shout of "FUCK YOU" from every musician signed to a label. -DS]

* * *
Rubin: “[T]oo many people make and love music for it to ever die. It will never be over. The music will outlast us all." [Best to leave on an optimistic note, lest you all be plunged into inconsolable depression. -DS]

The new Britney Spears album wont drop until November 13, but 4 of her songs have been "accidentally" leaked into the internet.

It looks like a publicity stunt to arouse interest in the former pop queen's new work (come on, four songs got leaked???), but if the rest of the album is as bland as this, I honestly don't see a comeback in Britney's near future.

I mean, her stuff is OK, but it's gonna take a lot more than some mediocre dance music to make everybody forget about the whole head-shaving, rehab-dropping, snootch-flashing thing.

Listen for yourself.

Got Me High

Oh, the Boom Boom Room.

It’s the oldest and arguably most iconic gay bar on this half of the country. The Boom Boom Room in Laguna Beach, which opened in the 1920’s, is sadly seeing its final days this weekend.

How, you ask, could such a historic place be closing after all these years? Especially when the gay lifestyle has never been as embraced as today?

It’s been bought out. And it’s going to become a hotel. Yes, exactly what Laguna Beach needs, another frikkin hotel.

Needless to say, the Boom is going out with a massive 4 day party, all this weekend ending Labor Day.

I went last night, along with Web Editor Janine Kahn, who made sure to take plenty of PICTURES.

A straight girl in a gay club is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is that gay clubs always always always have the most drop dead gorgeous men I’ve ever seen. The curse is well, they’re gay so I can’t have any of them.

As far as eye candy goes, nothing beats the Boom Boom Room. Especially when it was time for the wet underwear contest: those hotties climbed into a three-sided shower and, let's just say my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Yeah, we got pictures of that too. But I think Janine could only use the PG-13 ones.

Savetheboom.com is rallying to save the beloved night spot that promoted acceptance of gay lifestyle long before everybody else did. Unfortunately gay acceptance is a fight still being fought and the closing of this historic club isn't going to help matters. So if you love hot boys as much as I do, show your support and keep them dancing on the bars of the Boom Boom Room.