It’s been a tough year for campaign advertisements, and money’s corroding influence on democracy has become crystal clear. The debate has focused on the Democrat’s forthcoming fall from grace. You know it’s a tough year when candidates are running ads against the incumbent Speaker of the House, mocking her liberal Bay Area ways. It’s an historically tough year when those ads are being run by another Democrat.

It’s the increase in dirty donations, a result of the Citizens United decision, and the endless attack ads being run by shadowy 501(c)4 organizations, right? The current season of political advertising, where seeing back-to-back scare ads from rival candidates isn’t a rarity and media companies are raking it in, may seem like part of the continuing escalation of partisan bickering. But a recent On the Media episode made a strong argument that truly corrupt political advertising came of age a long time ago.

In 1934, novelist and socialist Upton Sinclair ran for Governor of California as a Democrat, and the thought of the progressive writer attaining state office drove business interests mad. They attacked him like locusts — newspaper editors ran editorials against him, consultants coordinated ad strategy and Hollywood studios not only helped produce callous attack ads, they actually docked a day of employee pay and donated it to Sinclair’s opponent.

Sinclair’s Campaign and historically accurate harmonica

Though Sinclair, who had lost running as a Socialist for legislative office before, won 879,000 votes, he was still soundly defeated and
and his platform, Ending Poverty in California (EPIC), never came to pass. The stakes — a wildly popular progressive writer running for office in the New Deal era, in Tom Joad country, no less — created the first modern political campaign and the subsequent dependence on outside cash and influence. Some things never change.

Jason Gross, editor of Perfect Sound Forever, taped parts of a Q&A Withers participated in after a screening of the new film in New York. One clip featuring Withers discussing the Ali-Foreman fight, is below. The rest can be found here.

A well-developed Iraqi character

The polls closed yesterday in Iraq, and as expected, insurgent attacks disrupted some voting:

“Everyone went,” Maliq Bedawi, 45, who works at Baghdad International Airport, said as he waved his purple-stained finger. He stood outside the rubble of an apartment building that was struck and destroyed by what the police said was a Katyusha rocket. “They were defiant about what happened. Even people who didn’t want to vote before, they went after this rocket.”

Iraqis, he went on, “are not afraid of bombs anymore.”

from Explosions Hit Baghdad as Iraqis Vote in Pivotal Election

Over the last month, I’ve overdosed on movies, books and television shows about Iraq. I finally saw The Hurt Locker and The Messenger, spent a some long Saturday afternoons finishing up Generation Kill, and went through the VICE book on Acrassicauda, the Iraqi metal band that literally survived a war zone to continue as a band. Myriad perspectives are presented, at least from the left side of the political dial: frustrated and indifferent Marines caught in the Catch-22 of a bureaucracy that really decides who lives and dies; bomb squad cowboys tweaked on adrenaline and warped from heatstroke; a war hero confronting combat stress with anonymous next of kin; and metalheads in exile. And outside of the hallowed pages of a VICE publication, the Iraqi characters are either non-existent, misunderstood and barely engaged, or hazy others palming a phone (that could be a detonator).

That’s not a criticism of these films or miniseries; they weren’t about the Iraqi side of the story. But that’s not a perspective, even when we do swing our lens or focus on that conflict, that gets much play. As much as the quote from that article speaks to bravery, I also sense some kind of resignation from years of senseless violence and uncertainty that the “liberators” can barely begin to comprehend. Lots of media outlets are carrying stories of cautious optimism about the election, and the electorate in the US, if they can pull themselves from the health care battle or the economy or Afghanistan, would love to move on from Iraq and just claim a draw. If people are willing to walk through bombed out streets to vote, Iraq certainly is proving itself capable of sorting out its issues and making it’s own way. But it feels hollow that after seven years of battles and blood and reconstruction, the links between the countries are so tenuous. Sure, I’m talking in great generalities, and I haven’t exactly made any amazing effort to understand the country. But no politician or general or writer has really made the case either. Leave it to the metalheads, I guess.

When I arrived at Old Town School of Folk music to see Booker T. last night, I was trying hard to temper my expectations with the reality of diminished returns. Sitting down and seeing his boxy wooden organ set up on the left end of the stage was thrilling, but it also made me wary that I’d come just to hear take a victory lap accompanied by “Green Onions.” By the time the opener, clichéd blues guitarist Eric Bibb, concluded an hour-long opening set overloaded with bland sentiment and antiquated-wordplay-as-authenticity lyrics — no sir, you’re not working as hard as John Henry, you’re playing for the public radio set — I was a bit worried. Would it be a genuinely good performance, or just passable renditions of famous songs?

I’m not sure exactly when it hit me: maybe three songs in, when I got the chills hearing “Green Onions” live, or when he got up, strapped on a white guitar and started strumming and singing tracks like “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” and “Ain’t No Sunshine.” But Booker T. hadn’t lost more than half a step, if that, despite being past retirement age, and genuinely seemed to be having fun. His voice was smooth and quiet but poignant, not prone to pushing the higher register and just gruff enough. Sure, he did the hits (including “Hip Hug-Her” and “Hang ‘Em High”) and made some brief Stax references. But he was smiling and enjoying being a part of an ensemble, sitting back and laying down strong, sweeping organ chords, which formed a solid frame against which the guitarists could take extended solos. The drummer even warmed up to a mic and rapped (not nearly as bad as I originally expected). I haven’t been keeping track of his recent work and need to spend more time with the new Potato Hole album, but he exceeded my expectations, laying down grooves with impressive efficiency. And how often do you get to sit back and watch a Stax originator roll through his amazing discography? As his Twitter profile says, he is a “Musician ~ Songwriter ~ Father ~ Husband ~ Chiller.”

R.I.P.

“Fireside Chat: Vladislav Delay”
Hear the Finnish producer and jazz drummer talk about his career, his various aliases and his thoughts about production.
Via Red Bull Music Academy

“Best of the Nu-Whirled Blogs”
It’s a terrible article title and genre tag, but a great blogroll of places to check out for new music.
Via Afro-Pop

“Lala, iLike Traffic Jumps Post Google”
New Google links direct tons of traffic towards these music retailers; wonder what the bottom line gain is going to be. It’s gotten Cupertino interested.
Via Hypebot

“Espresso Yourself: Getting Wired With Akron/Family”
Need to get wired? Akron/Family’s Miles Seaton gives you his ten best caffeine hookups.
Via Drowned in Sound

“The Long Tale?”
Glenn Peoples dissects the Long Tail theory, debating it’s usefulness and utility in the digital music marketplace. Seems like single track sales aren’t trending the way Chris Anderson expected.
Via Billboard

“The Beatles’ Rock Band and the Rise of Computer Game Music”
Excellent historical overview of the intertwining of video games and music.
Via the Quietus

“Matthew Herbert to Make Flute From Pig’s Bones “
I’ve heard of lots of cooks making special dinners with one single pig. Matthew Herbert is doing that, but with recording mics in the butcher shop. I love that he’s still maintained impeccable musical quality despite going full bore for experimental art.
Via FACT

“The Death Of Mistakes Means The Death Of Rock”
This point has been made before, but Douglas Wolk does a good job of distilling how modern studio technology can take the humanity out of music.
Via Monitor Mix

“Widow Unearths Possibly the Rarest Beatles Record Ever Made… Still Sealed…”
A copy of Sgt. Pepper’s with Capitol execs taking the place of the Fab Four is so rare, it is of almost indeterminable value.
Vintage Vinyl News via Daily Swarm

“Merch Masters ICP Cash In On Detroit Music Culture”
Still laughing at the Juggalos? The ICP nets $10 million a year in revenue from music and merch sales.
Via Detroit Free Press

“The Song Remains the Same”
Web music service Lala gets nearly as much money per used per year as iTunes, and is poised to breakout with pending Google and Facebook deals.
Via Forbes

“Cult Musician Mojo Nixon Storms the Web”
Psychobilly artist drop songs on Web for free, looks to reap rewards in increased attention and potential licensing deals.
Via Wall Street Journal

“Scene and Heard: The New Wave of New Age”
Brit paper highlights a new crop of atmospheric analog synth artists without mentioning Neon Indian.
Via the Guardian

Poet and punk rocker Jim Carroll passed away over the weekend, and as this New York Times obit makes clear, he was a talented writer in many senses of the word. His work somewhat seeped into the mainstream — DiCaprio played him in the adaptation of the autobiographical Basketball Diaries, which chronicled his smack-taking, smack-talking days playing hoops at a prep school, and his best-known song “People Who Died” recently got play in a zombie flick. Not sure about the last great punk album line being tossed around in a lot of articles about Carroll, but, in an era of hype-heavy and often bland New York acts, it’s refreshing to hear music by a downtown romantic.

Jim Carroll Band, “Catholic Boy”

Jim Carroll, “Day & Night” (Live on Fridays)

Jim Carroll, “I Am Alone”

“42 Reggae Album Cover Designs: The Art & Culture of Jamaica”
A reggae Christmas album always seemed like a tragic mistake to me until I saw the cover image above. “O Tannenbaum” indeed.
Via Crestock.com

“Mothers Of Superstar Rappers Offer Advice To Single Moms”
Do you think the mothers of Common, Talib Kweli and Mos Def get together and brag about their sons while they play bridge? “Why isn’t Talib making movies?” “That Kanye seems a little too proud.” “Common never calls!”
Via AllHipHop.com

“Webcasters, Music Industry Agree on Royalties”
A deal brokered by SoundExchange means Pandora and other web broadcasters finally have a sustainable royalty agreement in place for the foreseeable future. Check out the photo of the announcement — I know you’re webcasters and all, but maybe step up the fashion game and ditch the sandals when you’re posing for a DC photo op?
Via Wired.com

“Beck Launches Website Interview Series With Tom Waits’ Help”
This is sort of the antithesis of the New Yorker Festival, and I love it. A rambling history of L.A. deserving of Robert Altman.
Via Pitchfork

“The Day ASCAP Threatened to Sue the Girl Scouts For Singing Around the Campfire…”
As if the music industry didn’t have a perception problem, it turns out they wanted to charge Girl Scout camps $257 per year for sing-a-longs.
Via Steinski.com

Seeing as how so much has been said about him already, considering that news of the man’s death literally broke the internet, I’m not sure what I can add to the scores of quickly-written obituaries, career summations and emotional tweets. All I can ask is that people try and remember that initial response and flood of memories that came when they found out Michael Jackson had died. Remember those immaculate and at times unbelievable dance moves, muscle-memory for a man who probably spent countless hours honing his craft, that pure pop voice and undeniable pop instinct. Because, based on the exponential rise and fall of idols in our society, I’m sure the websites that saw ungoldy traffic numbers in the last 24 hours will climb over themselves to post the latest, greatest, seediest Michael Jackson exclusive for the foreseeable future. Michael Jackson’s stardom — watch this video and tell me he’s not more influential than everyone else combined, with the exception of Spielberg — is as undeniable as his tragedy. That’s what made his story, especially in the last few decades, so gripping. But I feel that the balance between honoring his music and gawking at the trainwreck of his personal life will quickly shift towards gawking.