Despite this season of debauchery and general can’tgiveafuckery, I started my spring cleaning early. And as I do every few years when time and unemployment permit, I flipped my house inside out and shuffled all the stuff around—literally, in one case where I tried to pick up some 7″s in one of those sandwich moves and ended up spraying them all over the office. It’s okay, they’re all sorted and re-alphabetized now. Yes, it’s been OCD fest around here these past few weeks but it feels good to evict all of the ghosts, dust bunnies and remnants of life passed from their dark corners. It also presents questions like “How do you file RZA into your CD collection? Does the ‘Z’ constitute its own word, thereby putting him first in line before Radiohead? Do I file him with the Wu- Tang and put all those artists together in one glorious mega-section?” Maybe some of you library science majors or record store clerks can help me out, because I wouldn’t trust iTunes to organize my sock drawer… One thing in all this mess I won’t miss is the CD. It’s been a good run but those jewel cases are bullshit; the little plastic bits that hold everything together always break off and there’s nothing sadder than a huge stack of CDs with no case, no home and no chance of ever being played again. Good riddance to that medium.
On that note, one thing I had to throw out in this latest purge was a ton of promo-kit stuff that has been sent ANTIGRAVITY’s way over the past year or so. If you are one of the artists that sent something in and never heard from us: a) thank you for being passionate enough about your project to actually slip something in the mail (we do love mail!) and b) we’re sorry it’s gone now. We’ve made a resolution this year to be more thorough about things people send us, since it does take a lot more effort than an email blast. It’s depressing to throw stuff like that away, not only because of the art that’s being dismissed but also the sheer physical size of the trash pile it makes.
As much as I love collecting shit, no one can keep everything and so with that spirit, I have a few suggestions I’d like to make regarding your promo kit:
Keep it simple. Write a short letter, (preferably on a Post-it note) or send a brief, one page statement that quotes your favorite three sources, none of which are your buddy’s Twitter account. If we want to know more about you, we’ll ask. That’s our job.
Send one release of your album, EP, book, whatever. And please send the finished product, not some weird CD-R mockup. If your shit’s on CD-R, you obviously don’t care that much, so why should we?
Also, the business cards and autographed posters are cute, but save those for your family so they can think you’re legit. There’s a great Yiddish word for that kind of stuff: “shlock.” NO SHLOCK. Vinyl, of course, is always welcome and will at least get you played at AG HQ. Deal?
New deals and new attitudes: that’s how we’re rolling this month. Erin Hall reclaims her youth and childhood dreams as a member of Sirens; Chuck Dukowski finds peace jamming “My War” with his family; Noisician Coalition rehabs antique songs; dogs and cats get along, and even Graham Greenleaf admits dubstep exists. Wondrous weather and crawfish await, so enjoy this issue and when you’re done, keep us around to help you out with those dusty windows, for that streak-free finish!