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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on March 29, 2011 11:44 AM. The previous post in this blog was Cha-ching! City of Portland borrows $112.8 million over two weeks. The next post in this blog is Short timers. Many more can be found on the main index page or by looking through the archives.

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Tuesday, March 29, 2011

The funky drummer

He's still around, and getting by. But so many owe him so much.

Comments (5)

There's an interesting case based on digital downloads that may be applicable to lots of older musicians who have royalty contracts with a higher rate for licensing than record sales. It bounced up to the Supreme Court and they let an appellate ruling stand that found these downloads are licensing. It makes sense because the music companies just offer the master one time to a download service so there are no standard costs associated with making individual recordings. In effect, they've licensed it as if it were to a movie.
There's a window for older musicians - their rates are much higher for licensing because the music companies didn't foresee the download revolution. I read it the other day - I think it's something like 50% versus 17%. Incidentally, this case came from associates of Eminem.
Hopefully some of these older musicians are now owed back income. Getting it, of course, is another matter.
If you ever want to wallow in the music business, check out the case of Tommy James and the Shondells. I believe Tommy's book is called, "Me, the Mob, and the Music."
I heard an interview and he said he wanted to tell his story earlier but he had to wait until some of his business associates died.

He actually did the hanky panky?

Some sweet drumming, right there.

Clyde is a nice guy and a great drummer.

When I lived in Madison, I ran into him semi-frequently because his band played Monday nights at a club owned by one of my good friends.

The best memory is 1994. On my 21st birthday, after my friends had turned me into their drunk toy and bought me as many fowl, exotic alcoholic beverages as humanly possible, I lay in near-vomit, dehydrated beside Clyde's drum set at closing time.

As my friends mercilessly mocked me from across the room, one saintly man rescued me from the throes of vomit and dehydration. That man's name -- CLYDE STUBBLEFIELD!

For real. He made sure I wasn't slipping away into death and/or a Vodka-induced coma and he brought over a bucket of water and sponge so I could cleanse myself of my alcoholic misery.

He is truly a Champion of Humans. I implore everyone to bust him a check ASAP. He is part of hip-hop's DNA, for sure.

I have felt

(continued)...

I have felt Big Love for the man ever since.




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