Spitball Army

Today’s New York Times contains an article written by David Browne, titled “For Shoutouts to Mom and God? See Online.”  [Note the citation of both the author and the source.]  In the article, Browne discusses the disturbing trend toward not printing liner notes in CD booklets and sending purchasers of the hard CD online to find personnel information for the recording.  He quotes from an interview with musician Teddy Thompson, whose recent album A Piece of What You Need, reflects this new industry pattern.

Mr. Browne writes:

Music geeks flipping through the CD booklet for Teddy Thompson’s “A Piece of What You Need,” released last month by Verve Forecast, may be in for a shock. Instead of the names of the musicians and technicians who worked on the album, or any thank-you’s to friends, they’ll find a photo of a beach, followed by a blank panel. A sentence in small type directs listeners to Mr. Thompson’s Web site for “full album credits and more details.”

In the mid-year survey of my favorite music of 2008, posted on July 1st, I singled out Thompson’s album, praising its musical content, while decrying the absence of any liner notes beyond the instructions to head to the internet:

I almost hesitate to mention one problem that I have with this release, as it has nothing to do with the audio content, but what the heck.  Joining a growing trend in the CD market, A Piece of What You Need comes housed in a standard jewel case containing the disc, a tray card with the track listing, and a single-fold booklet containing only a two-panel photograph on the inside…there are no liner notes!  For lyrics and musician and production credit information, Verve directs purchasers of the CD to Teddy Thompson’s website, an insulting move that I equate with Random House, or any book publisher, sending book readers to the internet for footnotes or the index.  Stop it!!

I am fully aware that this vanishing act is not an issue on par with the state of the economy, global warming, or the ongoing genocide in Darfur.  It is, however, an annoyance, like a gnat buzzing in one’s ear, and a dreadful harbinger of things to come (dreadful to us music geeks, as Mr. Browne calls us, and as I have previously labelled myself on these very pages).

Liner notes have been a fascinating part of the music album listening experience, as Browne correctly points out.  It’s hard to forget the rambling stream-of-consciousness essays that Bob Dylan included in his early records.  I have returned to them on more than one occasion just to attempt deciphering his prose.  Have you ever read the notes written by jazz artist Brad Mehldau for his releases?  Mehldau uses the musical content of the album as a starting point for essays covering matters philosophical, personal and sociological, in language that indicates that his brain is roiling with intense, analytic thought – this serves to underscore the pensive and intelligent playing found on the recording.  Check out this ample mouthful from his notes to the album Places (ironically, Brad Mehldau’s writings, including his album liner notes, can now be found online):

That same person who tells me to be in the moment says I’m ‘romanticizing’ when I remember a place from the past with longing. He’s right. ‘Romantic’ for me is always after, filled with lateness, whether it’s  Wordsworth or Kurt Cobain. At one point there was a unity to everything, a unity that was shattered. Arriving too late, the romantic finds everything in pieces. Where there was oneness, now it’s all dualities. Nothing is ever clear-cut; there’s always paradox, irony. All you can do is make music from the remains, and sing about the brokenness. Is that all a necessary fiction dreamed up by the human imagination to tell sad stories? If so, it’s a convincing one, because it tells about time. Our being is marked by what Heidegger called Geworfenheit — ‘thrown-ness’. We’ve been thrown into a world of time with no choice. It’s a world full of mortality — everything is dying, everywhere. The problem isn’t so much that reality in itself. The problem is that we care. 

Anyone wanting validation of their opinion that American Idol contestants are merely mouthpieces for corporate swill need look no further than the writing credits for songs on their post-show albums (One song on Season 5 winner Taylor Hicks’ major label debut lists a committee of eight writers, credits that traditionally have been relegated to the “Thank You’s.”  We also find a nod to Mr. Hicks’ “Groomer,” terminology commonly used to describe services provided to a horse in a stable.).  I can imagine the look of confusion on my mother’s face if I had proudly handed her a copy of Hem’s Rabbit Songs, crowed that I had been thanked in the album’s acknowledgements, and then told her that if she wanted to see them she’d have to go to the public library to access the internets.  That would have been cruel, though, thankfully, the members of Hem know how to present liner notes appropriately and with style.

But even a thoughtful smattering of words on a record album can omit crucial information.  On the back cover notes of Ken Griffin’s The Organ Plays at Christmas (Columbia Records LP CL 692) – one of the greatest records of the LP era – we find a short history of the Christmas Carol, and the following suggestion:

For the best reproduction of your records, play them on a COLUMBIA phonograph.  COLUMBIA, THE GREATEST NAME IN SOUND, is the originator of the modern “Lp” record and the “360” phonograph.  Your dealer can demonstrate a varied line of COLUMBIA phonographs, styled to enhance the decorative scheme of your home.  See him today for the pleasure of your life!

Nowhere in the notes, however, is the particular model of Mr. Griffin’s organ – the origin of the only sounds we hear when playing this COLUMBIA record – mentioned.