Do you ever sit in front of the TV and hear Henry Hyde proclaim “It’s not about sex, it’s about obstruction of justice” or Jesse Helms free-style on ethics and morality, then find yourself saying “Stop it.  Just stop trying to bullshit me. I know the truth and this ain’t it!”  Well, that’s how I felt when I read Matt Pierson’s pointless song and dance last week.

I actually forced myself to read it three times, trying to find a point other than “jeez, guys.  Stop pickin’ on us poor little overpaid, unproductive protectors of the most dominant aspect of the jazz tradition -- exploitation.” Now I don’t know this man, never even  met him, but the rap is oh, so, familiar.

I also don’t know what qualified him for his gig - other than (in his own words), being a failed musician who recognizes the impracticality that bucking the system would have on his personal well-being and choosing the can’t beat 'em join 'em path.

Maybe he’s very good at his job, and maybe Warner Bros. treats its artists well.  They certainly promote their artists better than most jazz companies do.  Hopefully for the artists, he approaches his day to day responsibilities for his label better than he approached his Manifesto, because all it does is give validity to the criticisms he’s trying to defend. 

It’s difficult to ascertain whether he’s defending himself, Warner Bros. or the record boys as a whole.  Since he’s complaining about the Diatribes that have appeared on this site in general, I assume it’s the latter.

Given that assumption, I’m addressing Mr. Pierson as the representative of the “record boys” and what may sound like a personal attack on him is merely an attack on his position.  As I said earlier, I don’t know the man...but I do know the changes.

The biggest problem in trying to address Mr. Pierson’s statements is the zigging and zagging -- the self- contradictions, the innuendo, the veiled threats and smug arrogance hiding behind a facade of passionate commitment “to further the cause for jazz.”  If you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting with any of these jazzy gents, Mr. Pierson’s Manifesto can give you a virtual experience.  Read it three times and each time you finish it, solidly smack yourself between the eyes with a rubber mallet.  After the third time, try to recall what you just read.  That’s about it.  If you can make them feel unthreatened by you after five or six of these meetings, you get to accompany the experience with sushi. 

For those of you who read Mr. Pierson’s message without the rubber mallet, I have a question.  Is he saying that jazz records make money or lose money?  I found traces of both.

Let’s see now:  $30-60,000 to record each CD (well, he is at Warner’s); $30-60,00 per CD for marketing (hey, stop laughing.  I’m trying to be serious here).  So we’re looking at $60-120,000 per CD, or an average of $90,000 per CD.  Under 10,000 units sold.  Well as he so ironically puts it “No amount of creative accounting can make this look like a smart business.”

Now there’s a line that’s open to plenty of creative interpretation.  In the “Why do we do it” rap, we get the “critical raves” stuff and the “music that we are passionate about” stuff.  But, uh oh, what’s this “long term value of a jazz catalog” stuff?  And how about the “re-released and re-packaged several times, eventually becoming valuable assets” stuff?  Hmmmm.  So I guess this is on top of the aforementioned 10,000 units.  Don’t these count as sales?  Or is there some kind of time limit on sales, like an after the buzzer three pointer?  Mr. Pierson says “But these are just business concerns.”  So don’t’ worry about it folks.  It’s under control.

Or as Chico says to a hungry Harpo in Night at  the Opera  “Hey, all the time you worry about eating.  Don't worry about eating.  I’ll eat.”  Yeah, and at Le Cirque, too.

The economic realities of big corporations are woven throughout intricate webs of manipulative design.  Assets get transferred, paper transacts, companies merge and dissolve - all in a legal shell game similar to gambling casinos.  The House never loses.  And Mr. Pierson works for The House, not for “the cause of jazz,” which is at best, a by-product.  He made that decision when he agreed to work for the House.  That’s the price.  That’s why he gets salary, perks and benefits that are out of proportion with the standards of the jazz business, but totally in proportion for white-collar America.

Well fine, man.  That’s your pleasure, or maybe your poison.  But just stop trying to dismiss the Truth with words like “naive and poorly researched” and then telling us to read a book that represents the industry point of view to find out why. 

It’s time for all you guys to accept what you are and what you do and why you do it.  (Oh, and please stop blaming your children for your greed).  But most of all, drop that Saviors of Jazz shit, please.  Nobody buys that anymore than they buy that Newt is a man of the people.

Which brings us to the “Jazz industry Organization.”  Are we supposed to be impressed with meetings of the Jazz Daddies, as though the establishment of such an organization, developed by you guys, is going to do any more for jazz artists than the NCAA does for a high school senior with a mean jumper?  Pulease, man, get a grip on yourself.  And by the way, how about a racial and gender spread sheet on that select group of “record boys,” Mr. Pierson?  Of course, we could count in the security crew and the cleaning crew where you hold the meetings.  That ought to balance things out a bit.

All an organization like that is going to do is give you boys the opportunity to move more money around and bring more attention to yourselves and the few musicians you choose to parade around as bait-and- switch decoys to promote your own selfish agendae.  So take your Jazz industry Organization, cut it fine and snort it, shoot it or eat it, but as for me, I’ll Just Say No.

I guess that brings us to the smug arrogance and veiled threats I mentioned earlier.  Aside from the cluelessness of trying to impress us with Honchos, Inc. or the pride in the manner in which you wield your “power” and insulting us with the riffs on how you “pour your hearts out standing up for the same causes as (we) do,” the focus on a “particular pariah (who) may cause your self-imposed title to become a self-fulfilling prophecy” sounds a lot like a threat to me. It’s pretty arrogant to think that “particular Pariah” would care about the threat.  I know I wouldn’t.

The most insidious threat is the statement about how some of us in “the jazz community show a lack of practical sense by...attacking a group of people who are actually in a position to help them.”  It’s the old somethin’ is better than nuthin’ syndrome.  The jazz version of trickle down economics.  And according to Mr. Pierson “there is no other alternative.”  Well, listen to the phone, boys, there’s a wake-up call coming in. I know y’all have plans for the Internet now that you lost your big copyright infringement case, and I know there’s a hungry pool of new piranha waiting to get a piece of the Cyberspace pie, but there is a potential for some significant change.  As long as musicians start taking some true control and self- determination during this window of opportunity.  More on this in week or two.

One last thing, Mr. Pierson or any of the other “boys” he’s trying to speak for.  Don’t waste our time with more smoke and blather.  Let’s put it out in a public forum.  Any three of you.  Takers?  Enroll here. 

And now for my own beef with The Pariah. 

As a man of Sicilian-Italian heritage, I must object to a story you ran two weeks ago about two mafioso jazz record executives.  We Sicilians have been negatively portrayed for many years by literature, movies and television.  We’ve been accused of being murderers, extortionists, gangsters, pimps and drug dealers.  But jazz record executives?  You go too far.  Watch your step or you may wake up and find Stanley Crouch’s head in your bed!