Help Internet Radio Avoid Extinction (reposted)

On March 2, 2007, The CRB approved royalty rates that will bury any small webcaster, and create a heavy burden even for big broadcasters like Yahoo, AOL Music and Pandora. How high will these rates be? Around 100% of a small webcasters revenue, give or take a few points, in most cases. What?! That's impossible to pay! Yep, it sure is..

How did this happen? The RIAA told the CRB thats what they wanted, and the CRB just gave it to them.

Your're probably thinking, hey that's awful, but who are the the RIAA and CRB?

RIAA (Recording Industry Association of America) is a lobbying group formed by the five largest record labels. They are embedded in Washington D.C. They make sure laws are written to keep them rich, no matter what. They made headlines a few years ago opening lawsuits against elderly people, single mothers and children for trading music online, even though some of them didn't even have computers. Check out the latest RIAA headlines.

The CRB (Copyright Royalty Board) is part of the US Copyright Office. The Board is charged with determining the royalty rates that would be determined by a willing buyer and a willing seller in a marketplace transaction. They decided to jack the rates beyond a broadcasters means despite decades of royalty rates being 1 - 2% of broadcaster revenue. Raise your right hand if you want to take away consumer choice, hurt working artists, damage small record labels and put small webcasters out of business.

Take Action Now

• Write your congressional representative
• Add your name to a petition

• Tell your representatives:

  I do not support The Copyright Royalty Board's (CRB) March 2nd decision to substantially increase royalty rates. Not only will it impact my choices, but the Recording Industry Association of America's (RIAA) manipulation of these rates, and the CRB's indifference will hurt working artists, damage small record labels and force law abiding small webcasters, already paying a large portion of their revenue per month in royalties, out of business. This decision will also damage hundreds of small businesses providing goods and services to working artists, small record labels and small webcasters.

  I respectfully ask that you evaluate the CRB decision and do whatever is necessary to establish a reasonable royalty rate for all the parties involved.

Protect your right to hear eclectic indepenent radio and discover new artists.You can save Internet radio with less than five minutes of your time. Write your congressional representative today. Pass the word to anyone you know that loves or makes music. Also, please bookmark this page and check back frequently for updates.

You do have time to do this.

The possibility of the miracle is here with us.

Some wise person somewhere made the connection between an ordered outer life and an ordered inner life.  Obviously this has some exceptions, like the absent-minded scientist who has the structure of the universe carefully balanced like a house of cards in his noggin, but can't be bothered to brush his teeth or comb his hair.  However, for the majority of us, having a clean and orderly living space (whether internal or external) is a nice feeling and infinitely relieves stress.

That's a long way to say I spent the day cleaning the house, watering the plants, lint-rolling the couch, vacuuming the carpets, and I should start the dishes but the latte I had at lunch is wearing off and my momentum is slowing.  Actually, I believe it has come to a sagging halt just inches from the finish line, like an aging racehorse having run his last race.  Perhaps I am no Seabiscuit with a Toby Maguire to coach me back to the race.  Perhaps I should be put out to pasture.

Or not.

Due to a scheduling snafu and a missing voicemail, I was locked out of the house for two hours on Friday, In the rain.  The saving grace was a nice impromptu dinner with brdgt and strangedasein at The Great Dane.

On Saturday, Jacquelyn's keys were locked in her office so we had to break into the house.  Saturday's saving grace was a wonderful night of cuddling on the new sectional watching Six Feet Under.

Sunday was pretty decent actually.  Jacqui and I saw 300 with brdgt, strangedasein, and sufferingbrian.  It was decent.  A few flaws, some cheesy dialog, excellent style and special effects.  Oh, and Karl from Love Actually as the nine-foot tall Persian man-god Xerxes.  I gave it a B.

Today I had the day off so I spent the morning lounging and catching up on LJ and finishing some posters for the Corned Beef & Cabbage rave.  Jacquelyn needed her workout clothes, so I took a bus downtown and met her for lunch.  It was beautiful outside and apparently I looked hungover with my dark shades and black corduroy jacket.  It was nice to hide behind the sunglasses, with my iPod in my ears.  Is it ultimately narcissistic to be surrounded by the throngs of college students and parents and business people and other denizens of downtown, and just cut them off, play the soundtrack of your life, creating a reality of your own, regardless of what's going on around you?

It felt like that.  As soon as the headphones covered my ears, the hustle and bustle fell away and I felt like I was in the montage scene of some indie movie - man sitting on a bench on a crowded street, staring into the distance, waiting for a bus that will take him somewhere, anywhere, as long as it is away.

That's kind of shite, since I was just waiting for the bus to take me home after a quick stop at the library and the grocery store.  I listened to Digital Underground's The Humpty Dance, some Of Montreal, and a few tracks of Bright Eye's new album, Cassadaga while reading P.D. James' The Children of Men.  But it could have meant more, been more, in a nameless nothingness, a hipster ennui, but it wasn't, at least not today.

I read once that the urge to run, to get away, to keep moving, the Lone Ranger, the ever-moving hero, is the stuff of adolescence, usually written by authors before they begin to settle down, or as a final lashing out of youth as the midlife crisis sets in.  These are less about self-discovery than about running, refusing to break, to settle.  The tales of tragedy and loss and redemption come later when we realize our youthful folly.  And we cannot be warned, we must willingly step off the cliff, like the Fool in the tarot, no matter what dog is yipping at our heels.