Saturday, May 31, 2008

Radiohead to Prince: Unblock 'Creep' cover videos

In this April 26, 2008 file photo, Prince performs during the second day of the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival in Indio, Calif. (AP Photo/Chris Pizzello, file)
AP Photo: In this April 26, 2008 file photo, Prince performs during the second day of the...

WASHINGTON - After word spread that Prince covered Radiohead's "Creep" at Coachella, the tens of thousands who couldn't be there ran to YouTube for a peek. Everyone was quickly denied — even Radiohead.

All videos of Prince's unique rendition of Radiohead's early hit were quickly taken down, leaving only a message that his label, NPG Records, had removed the clips, claiming a copyright violation. But the posted videos were shot by fans and, obviously, the song isn't Prince's.

In a recent interview, Thom Yorke said he heard about Prince's performance from a text message and thought it was "hilarious." Yorke laughed when his bandmate, guitarist Ed O'Brien, said the blocking had prevented him from seeing Prince's version of their song.

"Really? He's blocked it?" asked Yorke, who figured it was their song to block or not. "Surely we should block it. Hang on a moment."

Yorke added: "Well, tell him to unblock it. It's our ... song."

YouTube prohibits the posting of copyrighted material. If the site receives a complaint from a copyright owner, it will in most cases remove the video(s). Whether the same could be done for a company not holding a copyright is less clear, but Yorke's argument would seem to bear some credence according to YouTube's policies. YouTube, which is owned by Google, declined to comment.

Prince also did not immediately respond to a request for comment Thursday.

The dispute was an interesting twist in debates over digital ownership, held between two major acts with differing views on music and the Internet. Radiohead famously released their most recent album, "In Rainbows," as a digital download with optional pricing. They also have a channel on YouTube.

When Prince performed at the Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival in Indio, Calif., on April 26, he prohibited the standard arrangement of allowing photographers to shoot near the stage during the first three songs of his set. Instead, he had a camera crew filming his performance.

Prince, who founded NPG Records in 1993, has been innovative when it comes to music distribution, too. He released his 1997 album, "Crystal Ball," on the Internet and in 2006 was awarded a lifetime achievement award by the Webbys. In 2007, he gave away copies of his disc "Planet Earth" in a British Sunday newspaper.

But the Purple One has also shut down his official Web site and in September of last year said he would sue YouTube and eBay for not filtering unauthorized content.

Prince fans have organized to urge him to relent in his legal fights to control images and photographs of himself. As of Thursday, the most popular YouTube clip about Prince playing "Creep" is an expletive-laden rant from Sam Conti Jr., who describes himself as a "former Prince fan."

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Secrets of the Guitar Heroes: Jimmy Page

Photo

Photograph by Ross Halfin

Every song you played at Led Zeppelin's reunion show in London last year started with or was based on a killer riff. What makes a great Zeppelin riff?
It is something you know instinctively. It has energy and attitude. There's sex in it as well. It was definitely my concept to have a riff-based band. My influences were the riff-based blues coming from Chicago in the Fifties — Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf and Billy Boy Arnold records. "Boogie Chillen'," by John Lee Hooker — that is a riff. But you take it, absorb it and apply your own character, so it comes out another way.

Which happened that night. Your guitar-vocal interplay with Robert Plant, especially in "In My Time of Dying" and "Nobody's Fault But Mine," sounded brand-new, born on the spot.
In the Led Zeppelin shows of the Sixties and Seventies, it was the same numbers every night, but they were constantly in a state of flux. If I played something good, really substantial, I'd stick it in again. But Led Zeppelin were a working band in the truest sense. Even the rehearsals, in the run-up to that night in London, were dramatically different, in content and drama, from the show, which had its own character.

How hard was it to hear American blues and rock & roll records in Britain when you were growing up in the Fifties?
To hear current releases, you tuned in to AFN, the Armed Forces Network in Europe, and hoped that you could catch the title of something after they played it. We never got to see Elvis Presley until we saw his films. But the people who got sucked into rock & roll were collecting records, studying what was coming out of America. I had a friend who was not interested in a record unless it was by a black artist.

There was some blues in skiffle music. You got the songs, but the attitude and playing were not there yet. It was a learning experience, tracking these records down and finding the original sources — the Sleepy John Estes version of "Milk Cow Blues," Arthur "Big Boy" Crudup doing "That's All Right."

You just played along to the records?
That's what most of the British guitarists from that period did. You listened to the solo, lifted the tone arm and put it back down to hear it again. Once I was able to get a good guitar, my ability to work out what was being played on those records came in leaps and bounds.

How did your experiences as a studio guitarist in the Sixties — playing behind so many different singers — influence your writing and playing for Zeppelin?
I was very inspired by the [vocal] groups of the Fifties. I loved the way they worked, the perspective of the guitar within that sound. Blues was a pivotal thing on the first Zeppelin album. But I was playing acoustic guitar as well as electric in sessions, and I was into people like [American studio guitarist] James Burton. I wasn't into jazz so much — I preferred things raw.

For a short time, you and Jeff Beck both played lead guitar in the Yardbirds. Did you ever consider having a second guitarist in Led Zeppelin?
In the Yardbirds, when Jeff was there, we played the riffs in harmony. The approach was almost like a big band with brass — the power of that applied to guitars. In Led Zeppelin, I never considered having anything duplicated, because we were such a complete unit. We felt we could do anything in-house, certainly on the records. Once a song got on the road, those parts would change, especially where there were numerous guitar parts on the record. We used to do "Ten Years Gone" [on Physical Graffiti], and that's got lots of guitars. We did a pretty good version. It wasn't until I played it with the Black Crowes [in 1999] that I heard all of those parts live. That was a thrill.

How would you describe your tone — or the one you like most of all?
It varies. I've used pedals going all the way back, pre-Yardbirds. I was using a fuzzbox in sessions. But the engineers couldn't understand it. Anything radical, they couldn't deal with it. In the Yardbirds, I was trying the violin bow and the wah-wah, using distortion and echo. I had phase pedals and chorus pedals as time went on.

What attracted you to the bow? It is the signature sound in "Dazed and Confused."
It was proposed to me when I was doing studio work. One of the session violinists was the father of David McCallum, the actor in the TV show The Man From U.N.C.L.E. String players would keep to themselves, but this guy was quite friendly. He said to me one day — we'd just finished a session — "Have you ever tried bowing the guitar?" I said it wouldn't work. The strings aren't arched over the guitar, the way they are on a violin. He said, "Have a go." He gave me a bow. I tried it and realized there was something in it. I don't remember if I used it on any sessions, but I certainly used it the minute I was in the Yardbirds [notably on the 1967 single "Little Games"].

Your most famous solo is arguably the one at the end of "Stairway to Heaven." How much of it did you compose before you recorded it?
It wasn't structured at all [laughs]. I had a start. I knew where and how I was going to begin. And I just did it. There was an amplifier [in the studio] that I was trying out. It sounded good, so I thought, "OK, take a deep breath, and play." I did three takes and chose one of them. They were all different. The solo sounds constructed — and it is, sort of, but purely of the moment. For me, a solo is something where you just fly, but within the context of the song.

Young guitarists learn to play now by studying your riffs and solos. What is left for you to discover on the guitar?
There is a lot I can and should be doing. The main thing is quality. I've always had a high bench mark in everything I play. That won't change. The important thing is to commit to playing. You have to put a lot in to get a lot out.

The great thing about the guitar, when I was 12 years old, was that it was portable. It made the music accessible to me all the time. I could get together with my mates, and before you knew it you had the serious spirit of music there — even kids just playing a few chords. You can do it with computers and keypads now. But I'm interested in how you get that spirit on the guitar. Because that's my instrument of choice.

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BK FEATURE: The Comic Book Movie Double Standard


So, I'm looking at this Minutemen photograph, just now released to the public to promote Zack Snyder's Watchmen. It looks pretty much like it should: a bunch of dopey guys in costumes trying to save the world, completely oblivious to the horrors that await them. It looks great.

And yet, I don't really care. I'm still pissed that Watchmen is being made at all. But why? Why will I gleefully jump to my feet everytime I hear anything about Power Max or the next Batman or even the Incredible Hulk, yet I freak out with fury when I hear that Alan Moore's best work is being adapted to the big screen? Lord knows that every other comic book movie has not even been remotely close to its source material (even The Incredible Hulk will evidently have more in common with the TV show than the comic), yet I've enjoyed them without the slightest smidgen of guilt. Yet, Watchmen gets made, and I get filled with an incredible fury.

Maybe it's that we like the other superhero movies because we don't actually care about the continuity of the comics they're derived from. Who cares if Peter Parker was supposed to meet Gwen Stacy before Mary Jane? It works in the context of the Spidey movies, so we forgive it. Is it that big a deal that Christian Bale doesn't decide to become Batman because a bat crashes in through one of the windows in Wayne Manor? Of course not. The superhero movies we know and love take what's necessary (the heroes), guiltlessly change the rest, and are much better films for it.

Yet, it's not okay when any changes are made to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. It's not okay when the title character in V for Vendetta falls in love with Evie Hammond. It's not okay that Zack Snyder would say he "respects" Alan Moore's decision to have his name removed from the film, but then would go ahead and make it anyway. I'm not being sarcastic here, and blaming the public or the comic fans for finding it unacceptable. I'm saying I find it personally unacceptable.

Are Moore's stories so good that any change to them whatsoever, no matter how small, can be construed as disgusting? If that's the case, then we're admitting that the comics Iron Man, Batman, and Spider-Man came from evidently weren't good enough to need their integrity preserved. We're perfectly cool to just take the heroes from other comics, but when it comes to anything Alan Moore does, it's evidently gotta be everything or nothing.

I find this irritating, if only because it means that I will never be able to enjoy Snyder's Watchmen, no matter how good it is. Like everyone else, I scoffed at the idea of the action-minded director taking on what basically amounts to a subtle superhero soap opera (and though I'm evidently alone in this, I still can't forget how bad 300 was). I was pissed they're not using David Hayter's entire script, although he is evidently getting co-writer credit. And yet, are those the only reasons? Am I pissed because they're making a Watchmen movie in the first place? If so, and if I'm not alone, then that's a hell of an unpleasant way to react to hearing anything about an adaptation.

The key, it would seem, to really enjoying oneself at comic book movies is to take the mindset we reserve for a Hulk or an Iron Man – namely, that this movie is about a hero but doesn't necessarily have to be 100% faithful to its source material – even for those films that are directly based off much-respected graphic novels.

But wait, to hell with that! A graphic novel is not some excuse for a reasonably interesting character to fight people. At least, not if it's a graphic novel written by Alan Moore. A graphic novel is a cohesive, self-contained story in the same way that you'd treat a regular novel, or even a movie. If I'm supposed to just forgive weird little changes to the story because of the way Batman Begins deals with its source, does that mean I should be okay with a Jane Eyre movie adaptation that finds the protagonist fighting alien dinosaurs in a robotic suit? Probably not.

All I know is that I will be disappointed when Watchmen comes out. Even if they stick reeeeally close to Hayter's script, which they probably won't, Zack "I can shoot action scenes really well and not much else" Snyder will probably kill it somehow. Then I'll be bitter for a few months, then I'll write another feature on BK whining about how I was right.

It's difficult, being a comic book nerd.

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