When I was in my early 20s, I worked for a major concert promoter here in New Jersey. I recall that each time I walked into his office, I would see cartons on the floor, full of the latest LP releases from the record labels of the day. I also recall wishing that someday I could get on the label’s mailing lists so that I would get their new releases every month. As the stacks of CDs threaten to overtake my small space here, I’m reminded of the old adage “be careful what you wish for … “

It’s no secret that music writers get a lot of free CDs from artists, PR firms, and record labels. It’s one of the perks of the job, along with concert tickets, and a free drink now and then. Many jobs have perks. If you work at MacDonald’s, you probably get free fries. If you work at a Wall Street investment bank, you get to rape the taxpayers of this country. If you are the President of the United States, apparently you get to enrich your friends with the sweat of working people.

Despite the fact that I get a lot of music for free, I still get music from the Internet. That’s right, I’ve been known to download a song or two, and if you’re a regular visitor to Popdose, you have too. I believe strongly that the major labels have been ripping off consumers for years, and now the chickens have come home to roost, but I try hard not to download music by hard working independent musicians, unless they invite me to do so. Sometimes that approval is tacit, as most indie bands welcome the promotion that having songs posted at blogs like Popdose can bring. They tend to understand the value of sharing their music more than the majors ever will.

I know the struggle that these artists face all too well. I’ve seen it up close and personal. Living in a van for weeks at a time, on the road away from family and friends too much of the time, trying to scratch out a living when it’s like trying to find water in the desert. If I see an indie band that I like in a club, I make it a point to buy their CD. It’s really the very least I can do. (more…)

The career of a music writer certainly does have its perks. While it very often lacks in financial reward, it occasionally compensates with rewards of a more soul-satisfying sort. Last week was a perfectly good example. Over the course of three nights, I was able to see two of America’s most outstanding and individualistic musicians, in settings as disparate as a small rock n’ roll bar in Asbury Park, and a prestigious concert hall in Boston.

It began on Wednesday night when I took the familiar ride to Asbury Park to see singer/songwriter, and occasional Popdose contributor Matthew Ryan for the first time. If you think that Matt is just a guy who occasionally contributes to our esteemed journal, think again. He is one of the most respected songwriters in America, and each or his ten or so albums has been highly acclaimed. If you would like to familiarize yourself with his music, please check out the Popdose Guide to Matthew Ryan.

The Saint is the kind of bar that is vanishing all too quickly from the landscape, one of the last holdouts against the corporate takeover of live venues in Asbury Park, and NJ for that matter. It’s a pure rock dive that has been a stop for some of the most acclaimed bands in the world at some point in their careers. If there are 100 people in the house, the place is jam packed. Stickers and graffiti cover nearly ever inch of wall space. The sound system is superb, the beer is reasonably priced, the crowd is local and friendly. In other words, a club you can love.

I went to see Matt as a fan, not as a journalist, so I didn’t take any notes, or write down his setlist. What I can tell you is that he gave a wonderfully warm, intimate performance accompanied only by a talented violinist and keyboard player named Molly. I just knew it was going to be a special night when, after his first song (“Dulce Et Decorum Est” from his most recent album, Matthew Ryan vs. the Silver State), he took his vocal mic from the stage and placed it on the audience level, where it, and he, remained throughout the set. The rest of Matt’s performance featured songs from his new album, including “American Dirt,” and “It Could’ve Been Worse,” plus songs from nearly every era of his long career. At the end of the night, when it was time to field requests from a crowd that was obviously familiar with his work, Matt unplugged completely and performed the requested song standing next to the person who had asked for it, seeming to sing it just for them. (more…)

The news of Danny Federici’s death has sent my mind reeling back over the dozens of E Street Band shows that I’ve seen over the years. But the one I kept going back to this morning is the very first one that I ever saw, at the legendary Capitol Theater in Passaic, NJ, on October 14, 1974. I was not there to see Bruce Springsteen.

Looking back on it now, it was an impressive triple bill, and I was there to see the opening act. I made the thirty-minute drive with my best friend Larry. Ten years earlier, we had created our first band together in the wake of the Beatles’ arrival in the U.S. It was all about music for us: Larry loved the Kinks, and I was in my Neil Young phase. We had both been very impressed with a recent debut album by one Dan Fogelberg, and we heard that he was opening the show, so off we went. The headliner was the always dependable John Sebastian, and in the middle, Bruce Springsteen. We had heard about Bruce. There was definitely a buzz around N.J. about him, but I can honestly say that at that point I had never heard a note of his music. Also with us that night was my future ex-wife, Sarah. We were only a few months away from a lovely wedding — and a quick divorce.

To tell you the truth, I don’t remember much about Fogelberg’s set. As I recall, it was vaguely disappointing. It proved difficult to reproduce the lush textures of his album in a live setting. Then there was a surprise: John Sebastian, the headliner, had decided to go on in the middle slot. It was unprecedented, and at that point hard to understand. This decision later became something of a legend in Bruce Springsteen lore. One version has it that Sebastian had witnessed the Springsteen soundcheck and wisely decided that, armed with only his acoustic guitar and harmonica, he was not going to try to follow the E Street Band that night. Again, I don’t remember much about Sebastian’s set, but he was always dependably entertaining, and I’m sure he was that night as well.

To tell you the truth, we were ready to leave. The Springsteen buzz was a bit irritating at that point. Almost cult-like already. We weren’t buying into it. Who did this guy think he was? Then Larry reminded me that Max had just joined the band, and maybe we should at least check it out. We had known Max since the seventh grade, and gone all through junior high school and high school with him. He was always a great drummer, and his bands were always the best local bands. (Ours were always second best.) So it wasn’t surprising to us that Max had made it to the next level, but at the time it was just that — the next level. A couple of months earlier, Ernest “Boom” Carter had left the E Street Band, along with keyboard player David Sancious. After responding to a blind ad in the Village Voice, Max had replaced Ernest, and Roy Bittan came onboard in David’s place. What the hell. We figured we’d stick around to see what all the fuss was about. Sarah was trying hard to be patient.

After a brief intermission, the lights dimmed. A lone spotlight picked out a ragged figure, center stage. (more…)