Ideapad

Per independent research, the top 10 albums and millions of copies sold, worldwide:

1. Michael Jackson, "Thriller": 66,200,000
2. Soundtrack, "Grease": 44,700,000
3. Pink Floyd, "The Dark Side of the Moon": 44,200,000
4. Whitney Houston et al., "The Bodyguard": 38,600,000
5. The Bee Gees at al., "Saturday Night Fever": 37,200,000
6. The Eagles, "Their Greatest Hits 1971-1975": 36,900,000
7. Bob Marley, "Legend": 36,800,000
8. Led Zeppelin, "IV": 35,700,000
9. AC/DC, "Back in Black": 35,700,000
10. Shania Twain, "Come on Over": 35,400,000

Domestically, the U.S. top-selling albums list isn't all that different, but it's somewhat cheesier.

1. Michael Jackson, Thriller, Epic, 29,000,000
2. Eagles, Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975), Asylum, est. 29,000,000
3. Led Zeppelin, Led Zeppelin IV, Atlantic, 23,000,000
4. Billy Joel, Greatest Hits Volume I & Volume II, Columbia, 11,500,000
5. Pink Floyd, The Wall, Columbia/Capitol, 11,500,000
6. AC/DC, Back in Black, Atlantic, 22,000,000
7. Garth Brooks, Double Live, Capitol Nashville, 21,000,000
8. Shania Twain, Come On Over, Mercury Nashville, est. 21,000,000
9. Fleetwood Mac, Rumours, Warner Bros., 19,000,000
10. The Beatles, The Beatles (White Album), Apple, 9,500,000

Just below the top 10 in the U.S. are several of the global top sellers, plus "Boston," which apparently doesn't scale on a worldwide level.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 2:44 PM | Permalink

Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, who wrote the indelible "Hound Dog," hated Elvis Presley's version when it first came out.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 6:02 PM | Permalink

I still have roughly 500 CDs in my house. The audio kind, that is; 500 hours of music, most of it somehow not yet ripped into MP3 format, everything from the Beatles to an classical improvisation trio from Lancaster, Pa., much of it slowly being forgotten as I move inexorably away from physical music ownership.

Tonight I rekindled my project to get them digitized once and for all. A stack of CDs has migrated from my wall unit to my desk, slowly but surely making its way onto my hard drive. And I'm boggling my mind with the discs I've somehow never gotten onto my iPod.

How is it that I have Radiohead's "The Bends," and every album from "Kid A" through "In Rainbows," in iTunes, but I never pulled in "OK Computer?" Why do I have Huevos Rancheros' "Dig In!" on there and not Matthew Sweet's "Girlfriend," which I must have played hundreds of times in my car's CD player in the 1990s? Actually, I only have one of my six Matthew Sweet albums on my iPod. Do I really look back that little?

Apparently so. And perhaps this is why the end of WRXP, New York's only modern rock station, resonated so heavily with me. With the exception of two pop and a few hip-hop stations, almost every spot on the commercial radio dial in New York is stuck in the past. Sure, the past has moved up from the 1960s to the 1980s; but if I want to hear a contemporary rock song--or jazz, or metal, or country for that matter--I'm going to have to turn off the radio. I want modern, interesting, progressive music on the radio: NPR for songs. Instead, I get "Eye of the Tiger."

So I undertake this CD-to-MP3 migration in a bit of a catch-22. I can't move these discs out of my apartment until they're (mostly) available on my computer, yet the vast majority of the effort is going to wind up worthless, as I go years without listening to the music I'm diligently migrating; but without doing this, I could never let go of my CDs, even as they slowly collect dust until I randomly grab one to bring into the car. (I never did replace my CD player.) Maybe I should get a Spotify Premium subscription and just move on.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 1:01 AM | Permalink

How many people remember that Randy Jackson, now famous for his role as an "American Idol" judge, was a bass player with a long history in the industry as a session musician? I remember him well as Journey's bassist on "Raised on Radio." Check out the still-great video for "Girl Can't Help It" for Randy Jackson circa 1986, complete with '80s flattop and neon leather jacket.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 11:11 PM | Permalink

What I learned today: Geddy Lee of Rush guested on Bob and Doug McKenzie's cult classic comedy routine, "Take Off, Eh," because Lee and Rick Moranis went to elementary school together.

Me, I used to pick on Chelsea Handler on the walk home from school, but I don't think I'm being asked on her show anytime soon.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 11:18 PM | Permalink

The Awl: The Golden Age Of Hipper-Than-Thou CD Fetishization Begins Now.

See, I've still got my old stereo, and I've been hoarding all the CDs I bought or burned between the ages of 13 and 24. Sure, they take up a lot of space. Was a bitch to move them out of the old apartment, too, but it's worth it. This stuff is gold. ... We remember Tower Records, man. We were there.

My son (age two) broke my CD player last month. My gorgeous, wonderful, feature-rich, six-disc Pioneer CD changer, which lasted longer in regular use than any other piece of electronics I've ever owned, which I loved so much that I bought a matching car CD changer so I could swap the cartridges, which was such a near-perfect device that I actually had the laser realigned in 1996 rather than buy a new one. The day it broke was almost exactly the 20th anniversary of its purchase.

Twenty years is a long time for a piece of stereo equipment, so I'm not all that saddened that it broke. Its passing has thrown me into something of an existential crisis, though.

Do I buy another one?

I mean, I'm an iPod guy through and through. Had one since they first came out. I carry a 160GB iPod Classic in addition to my iPhone. I rarely pop in CDs to listen to casually, and despite my lifelong love affair with record stores, I've only physically bought music two or three times in the past couple of years, and they were point-of-sale impulse buys.

On the other hand, I have a lot of discs. More than a thousand. Most of which I've never properly digitized, because of the daunting task of burning a thousand CDs. (I perversely burn the albums I least care about, in order to get them out of my apartment, which means my iTunes collection contains a lot of mediocre music and not enough of my old favorites.) When we moved into our current apartment, I had two wall units custom-built for our living room, one of which just houses CDs.

I have been thinking for awhile about digitizing the whole thing and just moving on. But what to do with all that music? I'm something of a collector and I don't like the idea of throwing away the tangible jewel boxes and liner notes, especially considering how much money, and time, I invested in acquiring them.

But the reality of progress cannot be ignored. I saved 800 cassette tapes and 200 vinyl records in my parents' house when I moved out in the '90s, and to date, I've listened to roughly 30 of those cassettes and none of the records. The hoarder in me shouts, "But those thirty! And how much is irreplaceable? And what about the next time you need music and forget your iPod? And the bootlegs, man! And imagine if you had to reassemble your metal collection from scratch...!"

Thing is, I have reassembled a lot of my music collection. No matter how much I deny it, I don't look back much: all those classic rock albums I have on cassette? I don't even leave those artists on the radio when the local rock radio station plays their songs. We move on.

In an ideal world, I'd find myself at home with two weeks to kill and no one else in the house, and I'd spend a few days pulling all my music--cassettes and all--into a lossless audio format on a two-terabyte hard drive with dual backups. I don't know if or when that will ever happen, but in the meantime, I may as well admit to progress.

So we're not replacing the CD player in the component stereo. We will, instead, pop in an iPod cable, so until we get a music server set up we can play tunes without dealing with the laptop. And my son--who, before breaking it, learned how to turn on the stereo and play CDs in the old Pioneer--will be able to bring his iPod into the living room and play his kids' tunes on his own volition, once he learns to read, that is. And at some point I'll even purge the living room of physical CDs.

It's not that the future has arrived. Heck, the future has been here for years. It just took a toddler's accident for me to formally let go of the past.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 4:02 PM | Permalink

So I'm watching the new episode of "That Metal Show" (yeah, I watch That Metal Show, and I'm home on a Saturday night, and I knew the show was on in advance and am appointment-viewing, what's it to you? you think I'm not metal?) and I'm taken with the question Eddie Trunk posed to his panel: where is the next generation of arena rock going to come from?

Trunk asked the question as a reference point to Aerosmith's rumored woes. The big metal bands of the 1970s and '80s are either rapidly aging or no longer a draw for stadium-sized venues. Metallica is probably the only remaining heavy band of the era big enough to fill Giants Stadium.

The show used this question as a lead-in to Hatebreed's Jamey Jasta. One of the hosts said to Jasta, "Your band Hatebreed appeals to everyone, from metalheads to punks to hardcore."

And therein lies the rub. Today's metal is rarely pop music. In my halcyon quasi-mulleted days, metal was top-40, and everyone from Warrant to Winger had hit songs on Z100 and power ballads for crossover success. That doesn't happen anymore. "I'm not gonna get a lot of radio play," Jasta said on "That Metal Show."

Indeed, the pop landscape is a mix of hip-hop, power pop and country crossover these days, which creates a ceiling that hard-rock and metal bands rarely cross. The Billboard Hot 100 2009 top 10 hit tally has a grand total of one hard-rock song: "New Divide," by Linkin Park, which as a touring band spends most of its time in multi-headliner tours. Foo Fighters, for all their success, have had only three top-40 songs in their career and no top-10s.

So where does that leave the genre? A bit marginalized, I suppose, and cherry-picking its successes. Let's not forget that Linkin Park has sold 50 million albums, although they didn't come to mind on "That Metal Show." Foo Fighters are a heck of a rock band, too, but point taken: Dave Grohl is 40. The show spoke of "resurrecting the genre," which is an interesting question--it's certainly not the mainstream force it once was, although it's certainly not dead, either. (Just look at guys like me, holding the metal lighter, rocking hard to a talk show on a Saturday night.)

So perhaps it's better to wonder how pop music can embrace hard rock in 2010 like it did Van Halen and the like in the 1980s. The shifting music business is always creating opportunities, it's just a matter of being creative with them. Imagine: metal night on "American Idol!" Why not?

Posted by David Wertheimer at 11:05 PM | Permalink

My fifth headphone review went live on Boing Boing Gadgets Friday, marking the midpoint in the series I'm doing this summer. I'm penning 10 pieces covering 11 models from seven different manufacturers.

And what have I learned? More than I expected, some of it obvious, others less so:

• Greatness is variable. Undoubtedly, almost all of the headphones I'm testing are great, in one way or another; the cheapest pair is a hundred fifty bucks, after all. But what defines greatness? To Etymotic, it's pure reproduction of original sound; to Klipsch, it's top-to-bottom balance; to Audio-Technica, it's pumping abnormally strong bass through miniature devices; to JVC (coming next week), it's replicating its audio style across product lines. More than once I've found myself thinking, really, who am I to judge?
• MP3s truly are a crappy audio medium. Don't get me wrong, I'm used to the sound, and I don't deny progress. But the high quality of electronics in my possession exposes an MP3's flaws and has me casting a skeptical eye on my iTunes library. Someday I'm going to switch to a 200GB iPod and a lossless audio format.
• I'm a picky son of a gun. Etymotic has pure sound the likes of which I've never experienced. My wife swoons at the mere memory of listening to music through them. But I disliked the lack of low-end punch, which I noted, and which made my contact at Etymotic downright wistful. Maybe I should lighten up a bit.
• But hey, I know what I like, which is a balanced output that brings warmth and resonance to music at low volume levels. While I remain impressed by it, I don't need Etymotic's hyper-clear output. Give me the Klipsch, thanks, with a side of Audio-Technica's mind-blowingly good noise isolation. Heck, I'd take the Audio-Technicas, too. I like bass. (I'm bringing them both on a business trip I'm about to take.)
  

This project has been a ton of fun, and I haven't even written about the fancy models yet. My continued thanks go out to Rob Beschizza and Joel Johnson for giving me the platform.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 12:22 PM | Permalink

Now online: MTV Music. So obvious and wonderful it's amazing it took this long. Not only is it great for archival purposes, it's also a chance to see videos that don't get much air time in this post-music video era. Shame it took MTV so many years to roll out an easy-to-use music video archive, but hey, better late than never.

What I've watched this morning, blissfully all over the map:
~ Godley and Creme, Cry (probably my favorite video, period)
~ Val Emmich, Get on with It
~ LL Cool J, Mama Said Knock You Out (live Unplugged)
~ Estelle, American Boy (she looks nothing like I expected)
~ Kiss, I Love It Loud
~ Queens of the Stone Age, Go with the Flow (check the similarities in the glowing eyes to the Kiss video)
~ Living Colour, Cult of Personality

I'm disappointed by some conspicuous omissions (Lenny Kravitz's "Are You Gonna Go My Way" is a huge lack; "Ray of Light," "You Oughta Know" too), but in general, it's both fun and fascinating.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 9:59 AM | Permalink

So it has come to this: in our UX-obsessed moment, the new rock radio station in New York is WRXP, "The Rock Experience." That can't last.

Neither, I bet, can RXP's playlist, because it's so damn good.

For the first time in years, if not decades, New York's overly segmented, overly conservative FM dial has a station that's willing to mix it up. WRXP is the only commercial station I know that says, "Yeah, that rocks," and puts on an artist regardless of subgenre or popularity.

It's more or less a modern rock station, but to RXP, that doesn't mean Nirvana and the Pixies, full stop. To quote the launch press release, the playlist is "not determined by era, but rather by the acoustic quality of each song, as determined directly by on-air personalities and staff."

The results are nothing short of astounding (again, in New York radio terms). The artist roster I've heard this weekend ranged from Dave Matthews to the Jam (the Jam!) to ancient Aerosmith cuts to Death Cab for Cutie to the Alarm (the motherfucking Alarm!) to Sheryl Crow. All on one station.

Few radio stations exist that would play Sheryl Crow's new single and the Velvet Underground in the same sequence, but somehow, miraculously, this station landed in New York.

In short: phenomenal.

This broad-minded rock fan hopes and prays that incoming morning man Matt Pinfield--who, I'm guessing, has also been hired as music director--keeps it interesting. Scott Muni would be proud.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 1:46 AM | Permalink

Updates on my music notes from last week:

1. Jon Pareles agrees with my Madonna observation in this weekend's New York Times Arts section, although he takes it more positively than me: "It's the kind of album a record company longs for in the current embattled market: a set of catchy, easily digestible, mass-appeal songs by a star who's not taking chances.... Her grand statement on 'Hard Candy' is nothing more than that she's still around and can still deliver neat, calculated pop songs."

2. When I tell other "AI" watchers David Cook is dweeby, they look at me in shock. Which tells me two things. One, that a Simon Cowell-anointed series of appearances on national television, coupled with some honest to goodness talent, does wonders for one's public impression. And two, that his combover is really good.

3. Seriously: new music from the Odds! Go listen!

Posted by David Wertheimer at 9:32 AM | Permalink

1. I figured out this morning my disappointment in Madonna's 4 minutes: she's running with the pack. Timbaland and Justin Timberlake are ringers, sure shots, contemporary 2007-2008 American pop.

Yawn. I loves me the Timbalake output, but not in this context. This is not the Madonna who brought Eurodisco and gay culture to pop, who helped define music video, who discovered or promoted talent ranging from William Orbit to Alanis Morissette to Ali G. Madonna's new track suggests that, for the first time, she isn't ahead of the game. Which, as a near-50-year-old mother of three, perhaps she doesn't have to be. But it's a game-changer for her, and not in a positive way.

2. I'm watching "American Idol" this season for the first time (Amy's fault), and I have two observances. First, that it truly is a popularity contest--Carly Smithson was by far more deserving than the pretty-boy and flaxen-haired competition that remains.

Second, and more importantly, David Cook is my hero. If that guy wins, man, it's like a dream come true for a million dweeby high school guitar god wannabes. Gotta love a guy who name-checks Big Wreck and Patrick Swayze on his national profile.

3. Seriously, have you listened to the New Odds yet? Brendan Benson could learn a thing or two from Craig Northey, I tell you what.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 11:10 AM | Permalink

Six-Word Reviews of 763 SXSW Mp3s on The Morning News proves that Paul Ford is an insane, overcommitted, inspired genius.

It is as it says: as many music files as Paul could drum up from this year's South by Southwest festival, reviewed in exactly six words. (The six-word write-up, if you hadn't heard, is a hot trend right now.)

The writeups are the genuis part.
"Rocks like a dad-bought Camaro."
"Soft pink vagina frosted jazz cupcakes."
"The pinnacle of cock-rock horseshit."
"You can love Neko Case too much."

The insane, inspired, and overcommitted part is, well, the rest of it. Every band he could find, alphabetized, chronicled, linked to two places, reviewed and rated on a 5-star scale. Then, because it's Paul, there are the pull-outs: more than a dozen charts, graphs, summaries and observations. Which makes the chart more palatable and, no doubt, kept the research interesting, too.

I have much work ahead of me just digesting the page. Can barely fathom the work--by one man--that went into it. But then this is the same guy who more or less singlehandedly scanned 150 years of Harper's magazine and cleaned up the OCR for a web archive, so I'm not surprised. Just blinking a lot. Great, great stuff.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 11:43 AM | Permalink

I have been married for four years and cohabitating for five. My wife and I have bought and raised a puppy together, traveled around the world and integrated with each other's families. We share a home, a computer, chores, jokes and our deepest, most emotional thoughts.

Through it all, we have had separate CD collections.

This afternoon we had two 9' tall bookcases installed in our living room. The one on the left has the express purpose of holding music, for despite my embrace of technology--including a first-generation iPod and an extensive MP3 collection--I still maintain a library of 1200 CDs, the majority of which are in our apartment. Amy, to her credit, has a few hundred discs of her own (and also to her credit, she tolerates the sheer bulk of mine).

So it was sensible enough when, as I began carrying music from my old racks to the new bookcase, my wife said, "Let's keep all our CDs together."

You'd think we'd have tackled this years ago. After all, we share a common iTunes library, Amy having given up on a her-only subset on her side of the Mac.

But even today, I paused. My collection is going to cheerfully swallow hers. The crazy category system I created, to avoid alphabetizing a thousand CDs, will turn my wife's Cheryl Crow discs into "female vocal" and her Melissa Etheridge into "rock/alternative." I suspect Amy will never even attempt to find her music in the sea of CD spines, much less succeed in locating her albums.

And her tastes create confusion in areas I had reconciled on my own. Peter Gabriel? For me: classic rock. To her: "Classic rock? Really?" Where does her Maroon 5 disc go? Seal? Barry Manilow? (Seriously, Amy--Barry Manilow?)

So far I've managed to integrate her classic rock with mine (though not, it should be noted, her Peter Gabriel discs), which has already thrown my organization out of whack, as the category has doubled in size. It's kind of fun. And terrifically nerve-wracking.

My wife and I are deeply connected in our values and desires. We do not share much in the way of musical taste. But somehow, in some way, her Deep Forest and my Kiss CDs are going to find a way to coexist.

Posted by David Wertheimer at 11:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)