Support Yer Local Sheriff, Indie Bookstore, Record Store...

Today was Free Comic Book Day, and I set foot in my local comic shop for the first in about a year. I used to chat up the owner of the place at least once a month in college, but I realized I hadn't bought a comic in a good long while. So I set out to do just that and was pleased to find the place packed.

A few weeks ago was Record Store Day, in which I drove to Columbus to see a Mr. Freakin' Folds do a meet & great at a local record store in North Short. And unbeknownst to me, last month was Support Your Local Indie Bookstore Month. Which begs the question (*puts on Seinfield voice*) what is the deal with all these support your local yada yada holidays?

There's a couple of answers. Because the economy sucks for them too, sometimes worse than other stores. Because they love you. Because some people can't walk down the street and buy the latest Eels CD, a local author's book, and a giant voice-changing Dalek toy.

But maybe the best reason is "so the Big Dogs don't win." With even the heavy hitters like Tower Records shutting down, it's getting harder and harder to find a place that sells physical CDs that isn't Wal-Mart anymore. And sure, maybe that's the nature of technology. I can guarantee, though, that no software or patch or app is going to recommend a band to me better than a human (Pandora and iTunes' Genius feature constantly plugging Coldplay to me even when I tell them not to is proof enough of this.) While Amazon has recommended some pretty neat stuff I might not have found otherwise, it's never asked me how my latest film project's going.

Goodness knows I do my fair share of online shopping, and it's a godsend to the people that live in areas without these local shops we tend to take for granted. But nothing can replicate the Cheers effect that a local store can bring. I guess this makes me an old fart. But I can't be the only old fart out there. We old farts have to band together, and where else can we do that but our local pop culture chapels?

Personal Entitlement to Public People

Last weekend I saw Ben Folds in Pennsylvania, and it made me wonder about our expectations of the artists we love. Some chatty, kind of annoying high school kids behind me were waiting outside to see if Ben would pop out and do a meet & greet. When he didn't, they called him "a big meanie grouch" (no, seriously, direct quote) and left.

Now, I know they were just being goofy and flippant, but this rubbed me the wrong way. The man just played a 2+ hour concert for you until his fingers bled. Literally. During shows he has to tape up his fingers so his fingernails don't gush blood. So he doesn't owe you a damn thing beyond that. If he wants to say hi to his fans, all the better, but goodness know he's probably wore the fuck out.

But that got me to wonder, what is an artist's obligation to their fans? Is it enough to put art out into the world, or do you have to make an effort beyond that? And how much effort is too much?

I really dig an author named Francesca Lia Block. I don't so much dig an author named Chuck Palahniuk. But the both of them are well known for interacting with their fans. A lot of ladies in the late 90s had starry-eyed stories of getting positive, praise-filled letters when they sent her their personal zines. My friend Erin wrote Palahniuk a fan letter, and he sent her a pretty heavy box of trinkets.

I think that both of those are super cool, and I'm definitely a fan of artists giving their fans that little something extra. The problem comes when fans start expecting that shit and getting indignant when they don't receive that treatment. Or, worse, when they hold other artists up to those same expectations. Just because Artist A hung out with you before the show, that doesn't mean Artist B has to do the same, or that Artist C is a sellout for not doing that.

There's also the issue of fans having preconceived expectations of you based on a couple of interviews, or worse, a character you play. I got that in a tiny dose when I did Rocky Horror for a few years. Teen boys never knew my real name (which I guess was a bit of a relief) but would swarm me in public to hang out with Columbia. Sometimes it was cool, but sometimes I just wanted to get a mocha and not talk about Rocky Horror for ten minutes. Occasionally, I'd have to teach these guys terms like "personal boundaries" and "sexual harassment." Just because I can tell you crass jokes at a midnight show doesn't mean you should start the same jokes when I'm having dinner with my family. And just because the character I play is "the groupie" doesn't mean I appreciate groping in OR out of costume (no, not even if you're gay, because it most certainly does still count. Misogyny isn't just for straight guys.)

So how much interaction is enough? Too much and you have no personal life, too little and you're a "snob" or a "rockstar."

Tubesday Top 3: Chat Roulette

Happy Tubesday! This edition focuses solely on Chat Roulette. For the uninitiated, Chat Roulette is a video chat site that connects you to a random person. As you can imagine, there is much wankery involved (some subset of Rule 34 is that everything on the internet eventually turns into porn). However, a few people are choosing to get creative with it.

Case study Merton. Inspired by Ben Folds' on-the-spot concert improvs, he set his laptop next to his piano and went to work (NSFW language):



There was much speculation as to who Merton really was, some even spreading the rumor it was Ben in disguise. Ben, not to be outdone on his own game, had to make his own version (NSFW language, as it's Ben Folds):



And full circle, Merton's newest video (once more, NSFW language):



Happy Tubesday, Wenches!

I Need to See This.

I Need to See This.

As Ben Folds fans might already know, the man is currently embarking on a tour - with symphony orchestras. Not his own symphony, mind you, but he's going city to city playing with that city's own symphony. Which is kind of cooler. He'll be in Pittsburgh in February & I'm trying like hell to scrounge enough cash to make it, but being a full-time student doesn't make that easy.

Seeing a symphony is an awesome experience in itself, but symphony + Ben Folds = one of the most awesome live musical experiences I can think of.

If I was definitely going, I'd be crazy excited right now.

The Sing-Off

The Sing-Off

I'm not normally one for reality shows, but I had to get sucked into The Sing-Off because Ben Folds is one of the judges. I would preorder the deluxe audiobook of Ben Folds reading the phone book. I was delightfully surprised by the show, though. Kind of like the movie Deathrace, it was a healthy mix of genuinely good parts and so-bad-they're-good parts.

The premise is much like any of the musical competition shows, and the gimmick is that every group is a capella. Hosted by the ever-awkward Nich Lachey and judged by Folds, Boyz-II-Men's Shawn Stockman, and Nicole Scherzinger of the Pussycat Dolls. And good lord, is Nicole a mess. Idol missed the boat when they replaced Paula with Ellen. She uses the adjective "dope" a lot, pronounced ukulele as "ookoleele," and has a zen-like stream-of-conscious Michael Scott way with finishing sentences very far from where she started.

As for the contestents themselves, it's a mixed bag. Sure, you've got your "kooky white college boys" that come to mind when you think of college a capella (the Beelzebubs, a crowd favorite and actually one of my frontrunners) and your Glee-tastic happy kids (the SoCals), but they're not representative of all the groups, which is pretty cool. My favorite so far is a female soccer mom barbershop quartet called Maxx Factor, who rocked it out barbershop style to ABBA's "Dancing Queen."

So far the crowd's faves have been Faces, a rock-apella band of bouncers and Cold Stone Creamery lackeys that got sent home early, and Noteworthy, an all-girl Mormon group from BYU with a fauxhawked lead singer. Then there's the band Solo, who tried to stack the deck in their favor by continually saying that they "had nothing to go home to." Wow. Way to make everyone look like dicks when you got voted off, guys.

The show lasts this week, I'm guessing to pull in those mythological Christmas ratings. For now I've got a guilty pleasure show and Ben Folds has an extra paycheck and some new fans. (Ben Folds was #1 on the Google Hot 100 search terms list last night, and I found out via Facebook that my high school Spanish teacher is now a fan for life. )

What more can a gal ask for?