“In the days of the old business model, there were
successful predators at the top of the food chain, but the kids who made the
music were hiding down in the bushes with our friends. The local model of music
delivery, unlike the giant streaming info-combines that lord over today’s music
world, had a strikingly flat hierarchy of striving characters: the club owners,
record store clerks, college radio DJs, and rock critics who owed a thousand
words to the local weekly. At closing time on any given night in the ’90s you
could find any or all of these satellite scenesters mixed in among the proper
musicians at the Art Bar in Dallas, behind Club Clearview. We all knew that
there was a cutthroat cabal of music industry execs waiting on the top floor of
a tower in Rockefeller Center to offer us a lopsided contract, but we also knew
that we were the good guys, the proletariat to their bourgeoisie, the Rebel
Alliance to their Empire. We had each other’s back. The worst thing we could be
expected to do was steal a girlfriend from one of the Buck Pets or envy the
Toadies their unexpected national radio play. Those were, as they say, the
days.”— Rhett
Miller, lead singer of Old ’97, in “The Loneliness of the Long Distance Rocker,” The Baffler, No. 37, Winter 2017
(The image
accompanying this post, taken by Vivian HW Wang, shows Rhett Miller at the 9:30
Club in Washington, DC, fall 2015.)
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