Trouble Posting

This is a test to see if I will have to designate the font and size with every new paragraph, which is the problem I have had several times before.

Now I am embarking on a new paragraph. Why does the print become small?

Gnarls Barkley and Bobby Jameson

Here's the newest strange experience of my son, Bobby Jameson. A hip-hop group, or duo, I'm not sure which, named Gnarls Barkley, is about to release an album which includes a song, written by Bobby, from his Verve album, Jameson Color Him In, but not in its original form. One of the group, Brian Burton, manipulated the track so the original arrangement by Kurt Boettcher remains, but the original vocal is gone, and has been replaced by a different voice, with different lyrics. I think this is called sampling--a hip-hop thing.

Someone from London, who represents the group, approached Bobby on his MySpace site, and told him what they had done. At first they offered him money, and then backed off unless he could prove he owned the publishing rights. The man who once owned them is now dead, and the company is defunct, so unless someone can come up with written evidence of a transfer of publishing, the rights would revert to the author, which is Bobby. In addition, because he wrote the song, he also has author's rights.

Bobby felt insulted, because they didn't bother to ask him before they used his music, and because at first they offered him compensation, then began shilly-shallying, and retracted the offer. He has no resources to do research. He is in ill health, and hasn't been able to work for a year. He has no lawyer, no manager, no representation, and worst of all, no money. What could be more maddening, when he never was paid for this album in the first place, to be expected, out of the blue, to find out if anyone has a claim to the publishing?

It shows great lack of respect to take another artist's work and alter it, without first getting permission. After the fact, it's a little late. Apparently, Gnarls Barkley albums bring in millions, so the songwriter's percentage of the income would be a meaningful amount of money. Especially to a 62-year-old artist who was not paid for his work in the first place, nor later, when it was reissued by others. This has happened over and over again. Forty years of frustration!

An additional, and important, reason for frustration is that this song was written by Bobby to his older brother, Bill, who had a severe psychotic break in the sixties and became schizophrenic. Bobby was trying to call him back to reality, and express his unconditional love. No one who hasn't had to experience it has any idea what it is like to watch someone you love lose touch with reality and seem to become another very different person. It broke our hearts. This song about Jamie (Bill's nickname) had deep  meaning for us then, and still brings tears to our eyes when we listen to it now.

Even so, had he been asked, Bobby probably would have given permission. But just taking, with no respect or consideration, is a different thing. How easy it is for those who are affluent and doing well not to understand the pain of an artist who has nothing because he never has been paid.

The Saga of Bobby Jameson/Chris Lucey

My son Bob, whose picture is at the right, wrote and performed much music in the 60's and 70's, but, sadly, was not paid for music that he wrote, performed, and sometimes produced. His experiences were so painful, and so frustrating  that he finally left Hollywood in the 80's, and turned his back on the music business forever.

In the last ten or eleven years, he has been living with me in San Luis Obispo, and earning his living by doing odd jobs, gardening, fixing roofs, pruning trees, etc. He had left the  music business, and did not want to look back.

Then, about three years ago, he got a call from a stranger out of the blue, someone who had been searching for him for a long time, and had gone to great lengths to find him, including stealing his Social Security number from a Musician's Union record, and hiring a private detective.

This man, Steve Stanley, was a journalist of sorts, a musician, and an avid fan of 60's music, particularly that of Bobby Jameson, my son, aka Chris Lucey, because his first album was done under that pseudonym. It was called "Songs of Protest and Anti-Protest, and, according to Steve,  had now become a cult hit.

But Bob did not want to be found. His experiences in the music business had been so painful, he did not want to revisit them.

Steve Stanley gave Bob the news that the Chris Lucey album had been reissued by an English company as a CD, with both the name Chris Lucey and Bobby Jameson on it. He also told him he would have money coming, but to this day, it has never materialized. Once again, just as in the past, a promise was made that sounded reasonable enough to believe, but didn't pan out.

Revola, the English Company, has never paid him anything. Cherry Red, the parent company has never paid him anything. Ace Records, from whom Revola licensed the album (whether legally or not is another question), has paid him exactly $127, and has not given him an accounting that makes it clear what this immense(!) payment was for. Now, Ace says Revola owes Bobby money, Revola says Ace owes him money, nobody pays anything, and the shell game goes on. Nobody has attempted to give him any real accounting of how many albums were sold in the five years since the CD was reissued.

Joe Foster, of Revola Records, told Bobby that he was working to get him money due him on the European market. It sounded good, but months went by and there was little communication, and nothing really happened, as far as Bobby could tell. All he had to go by was Joe's assurances that he was working on it, and that it could turn out to be a very remunerative thing. Unfortunately, this was very reminiscent of experiences out of his past. People would always tell him they were doing wonderful things for him, and he should just be patient. Then nothing happened.

Meanwhile, he was contacted by a man named, Alex Palao, who said he was a representative of Ace Records. He wanted to come and see Bobby and get him to sign a contract. First he said he represented Ace, then he denied it, but the address of Ace Records was clearly on his e-mail. His actual part in all this, and his intentions, are still a mystery.

The upshot of it all was that Bobby grew angry and frustated over the continuous passing of the buck, and put a public message on a music site on the web that they should all cease and desist manufacturing his album, selling his album, or promoting his album in any way, and to stop doing anything in his behalf. Since then  he has heard nothing from any of them.

Music for Fun 2, The Ukulele

I decided I wanted to try the ukulele, but didn't know how I could afford it. I haunted stores where instruments were sold, but was discouraged by the prices. The thought of owning a ukulele wouldn't leave me never-the-less.

One day I was in a thrift shop looking for art and books. As I left the book section, I saw what I thought was a toy instrument, a ukulele, with most of its strings broken or missing, and the ones that were there in the wrong places. I thought, "I don't care if it's a toy. I can do something with it."

It cost five dollars. I felt happy as I walked to my car with my "toy."

I found a place called "Alternate Tunings," in a nearby town, which specialized in ukuleles. The owner kind of whistled when I showed it to him. "That does need a little help!" He worked on it, tweaked it in various ways, and then restrung it and tuned it. As he was doing that, he played it to check it out. I was surprised at how good it sounded. Apparently he was too. "You know, that's a pretty darn good little instrument!"

It wasn't a toy after all. It had just been mistreated. Since then, I have been learning how to play it, and having the most fun I have ever had with an instrument, because it's easy to learn and user friendly. Best of all, I can sing along with it, as I've always wanted to do.

                                 

Music for Fun

I come from a musical family, and my three sons are musical, too. My son, Bob, is pictured at the right. In the music business, he is known as Bobby Jameson, and also as Chris Lucey, because early in his career he did an album under that pseudonym. He is the only one in the family that actually was in show business, and made albums. The sad part is that he never got paid for the things he created and performed. This situation is unfortunately common in the music business. I will write more about it later.

My oldest son, Bill, plays the guitar, and has composed many beautiful songs. My youngest son, Quentin, also plays the guitar.

I learned the violin and piano as a child. Later, I tried the guitar, but felt outclassed by my kids. A few years ago, somebody took me to a performance of the "Old Time Fiddlers." It changed my attitude toward music. I had been brought up on classical music, and it seemed that nothing was acceptable but to head for Carnegie Hall. It wasn't in my heart to do that. It just didn't fit my interests, my desires, or my capabilities. After college, I had given up the violin, but kept on with the piano, not as a public performer, but just because I loved music.

The thing that changed me was that I looked at this group of people, playing with a terrific beat while the audience got up and danced, and realized it was a completely different musical experience than I had ever had: these people were having fun! The violin and fun had no relationshiip to each other in my life.

Thus was born in me a new concept--having fun with music. I went out and bought a fiddle, and started playing again. For quite a while I played with the Old Time Fiddlers, but finally decided it was not my instrument, because I wanted to play something that would allow me to sing along with it. Also, I found it rather frustrating playing in a large group, because I couldn't hear what I was doing, and never knew if I was playing in tune.

One night I saw a progam on Public Television about a man who had come to the U.S. from Hawaii many years ago. He played the ukulele, but couldn't get a job doing that, so took up the guitar. He became an excellent jazz musician and played with many great bands. But now that he had retired, he had gone back to the ukulele for fun, and discovered that he could use his old jazz riffs on the ukulele. As I listened to him playing, I was inspired. For some reason, I felt as if I could do it.