going to the eye doctor on the 15th, got insurance now thanks to the prez & democrats
I love great art, no matter the medium.
going to the eye doctor on the 15th, got insurance now thanks to the prez & democrats
I love great art, no matter the medium.
This is a picture of Joni Mitchell that I took in the spring of 1969. I was living with her in Laurel Canyon, Los Angeles, which is where I wrote the song Our House. I later recorded it with my band Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young.
At the time, Joni and I were blazingly in love. Our relationship was heaven to me, and it was heartbreaking when it was over. She was an incredibly talented woman; I have no idea what she was doing with me.
Sometimes in California it gets gloomy when the clouds roll in off the ocean. It was one of those cloudy days when I managed to get this shot of Joni without her knowing. She was listening to her album Clouds, which she had just finished. There are a lot of places you have to go before you finally have the courage to put out a record; here, Joni was checking the acetate for clicks, pops and scratches. It's very interesting being in a house with two crazy musicians: you have to have great respect for the creative process, and I certainly didn't want to interfere when Joni was in that moment.
I got into photography when I was 10. My father bought a camera from a friend at work and took us to Belle Vue Zoo in Manchester to shoot pictures. Back at home, he would cover the window with a blanket, put a blank piece of paper into a colourless liquid, and all of a sudden this image appeared from nowhere, like magic.
Having had millions of pictures taken of me since my career started in the 1960s, with the Hollies, I know that when a camera is pointing in your direction, you immediately try to look like James Dean. I hate that; I don't want anyone to know when I'm taking their picture.
This was shot through the back of a hole in a kitchen chair. I only took one frame, as the click disturbed her. What I saw in my mind before I pressed the shutter, I knew I'd got. When it was developed it was a thrill to discover that the composition was strong, and that the density between the white and black was good, too. I think she knew it was a good picture. This was not after two hours of makeup; it was Joni after breakfast.
I think this photograph shows how dedicated Joni is as an artist. You can sense that she has gone to another place. It is a quiet moment of rock'n'roll energy.
Hip-hop is the streets. Hip-hop is a couple of elements that it comes from back in the days... that feel of music with urgency that speaks to you. It speaks to your livelihood and it's not compromised. It's blunt. It's raw, straight off the street - from the beat to the voice to the words.”
I love great art, no matter the medium.
Dianna Theadora Kenny receives funding from the Australia Research Council and the Australia Council for the Arts
Do all popular musicians live hard and fast, take risks and die young?
This article is the third in a series examining mortality in popular musicians.
To recap, the first article examined longevity, suicide, murder and accidental death rates in pop musicians compared with population data from the US. As expected, longevity was significantly reduced in pop musicians, who also had higher rates of suicide, homicide and accidental death.
The second article explored the “myth” of the so-called 27 club, explaining how this idea emerged and why it has taken root in the public imagination.
In this article, I’d like to look at whether membership of different music genres is associated with different risks of early death and different causes of death.
The chart below plots genres over time (oldest to youngest genres), showing the average age of death of popular musicians by genre and gender against life expectancy (LE) for US males and females born in the same year.
Musicians from the older genres – blues, jazz (including bebop and dixieland), country (including country and western, boogie woogie, honky tonk and bluegrass), and gospel (including spiritual and Christian rock) – enjoyed, on average, similar lifespans as those from the US population with the same year of birth and gender.
The next group – R&B (including doo wop and soul), pop, folk (including ballad and polka) and world music – had lower life expectancies compared with the US population.
Thereafter, the gap between population lifespans and average age of death for the more recent genres – rock (including rockabilly), electronic (including experimental, techno, disco, and funk), punk, metal, rap and hip hop – widens.
This pattern reflects, to some extent, a confound in the data: musicians who are dying youngest belong to newer genres (electronic, punk, metal,rap,hip-hop) that have not existed as long as genres such as jazz, country, gospel and blues. Consequently, they have not had the same opportunity to live a full lifespan.
However, this is not the whole answer.
The table below shows that musicians from different genres have different rates of death from different causes of death.
For male musicians across all genres, accidental death (including all vehicular incidents and accidental overdose) accounted for almost 20% of all deaths. But accidental death for rock musicians was higher than this (24.4%) and for metal musicians higher still (36.2%).
Suicide accounted for almost 7% of all deaths in the total sample. However, for punk musicians, suicide accounted for 11% of deaths; for metal musicians, a staggering 19.3%. At just 0.9%, gospel musicians had the lowest suicide rate of all the genres studied.
Tupac Shakur performing live in 1996, the same year he was fatally shot. Wikimedia CommonsMurder accounted for 6.0% of deaths across the sample, but was the cause of 51% of deaths in rap musicians and 51.5% of deaths for hip hop musicians, to date. This could be due to these genres’ strong associations with drug-related crime and gang culture.
Heart–related fatalities accounted for 17.4% of all deaths across all genres, while 28% of blues musicians died of heart-related causes. Similarly, the average percentage of deaths accounted for by cancer was 23.4%. Older genres such as folk (32.3%) and jazz (30.6%) had higher rates of fatal cancers than other genres.
In the case of the newer genres, it’s worth pointing out that members of these genres have not yet lived long enough to fall into the highest-risk ages for heart- and liver-related illnesses. Consequently, they had the lowest rates of death in these categories.
This study highlights the different mortality profiles of musicians belonging to different genres of popular music, and cautions against treating the population of popular musicians as homogeneous.
Music genre was associated with distinct causes of mortality, more so than gender or age (not presented here). This suggests that once someone is inducted into the popular music industry, effects of sex and age on mortality may be masked by genre “membership” and its accompanying lifestyle.
Importantly, because this was a quantitative study of dead musicians and our aim was to gather population data to identify occupational hazards in the pop music world, I can only speculate here about the underlying causes of these patterns in mortality.
Sid Vicious from the Sex Pistols in 1978. He died the following year, at 21, having overdosed on the heroin his mother had procured. Chicago Art Department/ Wikimedia CommonsThese figures likely represent a combination of factors inherent in the popular music industry (such as the ubiquitous presence of alcohol and other substances of addiction, irregular hours, touring, high levels of stress, performance anxiety) and the vulnerability that many young musicians bring with them into their profession from adverse childhood experiences. Add to this the subcultural values and philosophies in distinct music genres with which young musicians become imbued, and you have a complex, multi-faceted picture of musician mortality.
Other studies have reported similar significantly-reduced life expectancy in popular musicians from the newer genres compared with matched general populations. Mortality rates were between two and three times higher for popular musicians than matched population data. The median ages of popular musician death in the two Bellis studies (links above) were 41.78 and 45.2 years respectively, which closely aligned with my findings.
Many musicians from younger genres – rock, electronic, punk, metal, rap, and hip hop – appear unlikely to live long enough to acquire the illnesses of middle and old age.
Subsequent research decades hence, when the newer genres have matured sufficiently to potentially contain members with ages spanning population life expectancies, may confirm the findings and tentative conclusions drawn from this series of studies.
See also:
Stairway to hell: life and death in the pop music industry
The 27 Club is a myth: 56 is the bum note for musicians
We believe in the free flow of information. We use aCreative Commons Attribution NoDerivativeslicense, so you can republish our articles for free, online or in print.
RepublishDianna Kenny receives funding from the Australia Research Council and the Australian Council for the Arts.
Art is a cry of distress from those who live out within themselves the destiny of humanity … Inside them turns the movement of the world; only an echo of it leaks out – the work of art Arnold Schoenberg, 1910.
Austrian composer Arnold Schoenberg, like many gifted artists throughout history, suffered for his art. Popular artists of the modern era have kept this tradition alive. For all the superficial glamour of the pop music world, let us not delude ourselves - today’s popular music scene is brutal.
The “pop-cultural scrap heap”, to borrow journalist Drew Magary’s term, is piled high with the dead or broken bodies of young musicians whose personal and musical aspirations collided with the aspirations of those occupying the commercial edifices erected around them, which turn them into income-generating commodities whose role is to satisfy capricious and ever-changing consumer demands.
Many of those musicians end up feeling suffocated, caged and possessed by their minders, exploiters and fans. And many end up dead.
The rock scene is a volatile mix of glamour, instant wealth, risk-taking, rebellion and psychological distress accompanied by taken-for-granted assumptions that pop musicians will live dangerously, abuse substances and die early. Journalist Amanda Hooten, writing about Robbie Williams, identifies the components of the “classic rock’n’roll script” as “sex, drugs, rehab and bitterness”.
Blogger Jacob Katel expresses the same sentiments in a more forthright manner:
Gwar frontman Oderus Ungerus died earlier this year. crazybobbles/Flickr[d]ead rock stars are a dime a dozen. They usually drink themselves to death, overdose on narcotics, crash cars, or get on faulty aircraft with drunk pilots …
Why do so many pop musicians die young?
Few studies have systematically examined the popular musician population to ascertain the extent of the problems codified in the media comments above.
Existing studies are limited in scope. Adrian Barnett, for example, tested the “27 club hypothesis”. Tucker, Faulkner and Horvath only included a narrow sample of the population, that is, musicians who died between 1959 and 1967. A John Moores University study only looked at artists with top rating albums.
At the other end of the scale, the study reported by Howard Sounes in his book 27 is over-inclusive as it covers not only performing musicians but also songwriters, record producers, managers and promoters.
I’ve undertaken the first population study of performing pop musicians (n=12,665) from all popular genres who died between 1950 and June 2014 of whom 90.6% (11,478 musicians) were male.
Data on age, circumstances and manner of death were accessed from over 200 sources, including The Dead Rock Stars’ Club; Nick Tavelski’s (2010) Knocking on Heaven’s Door: Rock Obituaries, Pop star mortality; R.I.P. Encyclopaedia Metallicum; Voices from the Dark Side for Dead Metal Musicians; Wikipedia’s List of Dead Hip Hop Artists and Hip Hop obituaries;
I went to rapper death websites, Dead Punk Stars and similar sites for all popular music genres. The genres I covered included African, ballad, bluegrass, blues, Cajun, calypso, Christian pop, conjunto, country, doo-wop, electroclash, folk, funk, Gospel, hard rock, hip hop, honky tonk, indie, jazz, Latin, metal, new wave, polka, pop, psychedelic, punk, punk-electronic, rock rap, reggae, rhythm and blues, rock ‘n’ roll, rockabilly, ska, soul, swamp, swing, techno, western and world music.
I examined four outcomes – longevity and the proportion of deaths by suicide, homicide and non-intentional injury or accident. Longevity was determined by calculating the average age of death for each musician by sex and decade of death. These averages were then compared with population averages by sex and decade for the US population (per 100,000) (see Figure 1, below).
Figure 2 (below) provides a graphical summary of percentages of musicians who died by decade from each of the three causes of death studied; these are juxtaposed with deaths in the US population from the same causes by decade. All comparisons shown in these figures were highly statistically significantly different from the US population.
The results of this study are disturbing. Across the seven decades studied, popular musicians’ lifespans were up to 25 years shorter than the comparable US population. Accidental death rates were between five and 10 times greater. Suicide rates were between two and seven times greater; and homicide rates were up to eight times greater than the US population.
This is clear evidence that all is not well in pop music land.
Why is this so? The pop music “scene” fails to provide boundaries and to model and expect acceptable behaviour. It actually does the reverse – it valorises outrageous behaviour and the acting out of aggressive, sexual and destructive impulses that most of us dare only live out in fantasy.
The music industry needs to consider these findings to discover ways of recognising and assisting young musicians in distress. At the very least, those who make their livings from these young people need to learn to recognise early signs of emotional distress, crisis, depression and suicidality and to put some support systems in place to provide the necessary assistance and care.
The Conversation is currently running a series on Death and Dying.
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RepublishMusic, Pop culture, Death and Dying series
People tend to romanticize the music industry. Behind every successful band is, it seems, a story of a renegade A&R representative who discovered them cracking away at a dive one night and the rest was history.
The reality is far less enchanting. These days, record labels are more concerned with branding than talent. It’s not a matter of what you can do, it’s a matter of how. Lizzy Grant was a failed singer-songwriter before Interscope rebranded her into a sultry, self-described “gangsta Nancy Sinatra,” while Katy Hudson was a gospel recording artist before Capitol Records and songwriting wizard Dr. Luke helped transform her into the girl-kissing Katy Perry.
Nowhere is this more apparent than in Breaking a Monster, Luke Meyer’s new documentary that chronicles the industry journey of the Brooklyn band Unlocking the Truth. If that name sounds familiar, well, it should. Back on June 23, 2013, the group staged a raucous gig on the sidewalks of New York City’s Times Square, where pedestrians were left floored by this headbanging trio of 11- and 12-year-old black kids from Brooklyn who shredded through heavy metal tunes like a gang of 30-year-old vets. Video of the performance went very viral, and in July 2014, it was announced that Unlocking the Truth had signed a much-ballyhooed $1.8 million deal with Sony Music Entertainment.
And that’s when things got complicated.
Breaking a Monster follows the band’s soul-crushing record industry journey. “It’s all about branding,” their label rep tells the perplexed boys early on in the film, before showing them a mock-up of the kids transformed into anime Boondocks-like characters for an accompanying cartoon.
“The guys are such a blank slate,” says Meyer. “They wanted to jump into the world and wanted to be rock stars, but they had no idea what it was going to be about. When people meet the guys, they usually meet them with their idea of who they think they should be—like a Boondocks cartoon, or these cute metalheads. It’s a place where you can see this divide between the guys’ intentions and the label’s intentions.”
And with each successive, relentless pitch meeting, the boys’ spirits shrink further and further, to the point where they just put their heads in their hands in frustration. When a label rep asks guitarist/front man Malcolm Brickhouse why he’s acting in such a way, he snaps back, “I’m not tired, I’m aggravated.”
“It was pretty difficult at times with these meetings—especially with this one particular lady at the label, who had a meeting with us once where she was just talking at us for six hours,” bassist Alec Atkins, 13, tells The Daily Beast. “We were pretty young at the time so we were pretty restless and wanted to get up and do something else, but she just had us in this meeting for six hours.”
“The album is ready, but because our attorneys are talking about us leaving the record label, it’s going to be a whole process of getting our music back.”
“There are so many different types of meetings,” adds drummer Jarad Dawkins, 13. “Sometimes we have meetings at our lawyer’s office, sometimes we have a meeting with a company. It depends on what the occasion is.”
The band is down in Austin, Texas, to perform a handful of shows during SXSW and promote the documentary. They look beaten down, and even apologize for their lethargy midway through the interview. “We’re very, very tired,” says a weary Malcolm, 14.
Between the viral video, a spate of performances in the spring of 2014—including SXSW and a Coachella set that the Los Angeles Timesraved was “as well-practiced as units three times their age” and offered “a glimpse of Coachella’s future”—and the news of the label signing, Unlocking the Truth had built up a considerable amount of momentum. And then poof. Since the signing news, they’ve yet to release their debut album, which has been stuck in a bizarre holding pattern with Sony. The boys are desperate to shed the contract, and are in the midst of doing so as we speak.
“It’s been very difficult. We’re speaking to our attorneys about leaving Sony, and it’s very complicated,” says Alec. “The album is ready, but because our attorneys are talking about us leaving the record label, it’s going to be a whole process of getting our music back.”
Jarad shakes his head in despair. “I believe that the movie gave an accurate visual of what happened behind the scenes. It shows that when we were trying to put the album out and people were asking for it, that we couldn’t put it out for no good reason.”
That $1.8 million contract, like most music contracts, sounds a lot more lucrative than it is.
“The $1.8 million is what happens if you add up all their advances for five records, and it increases in amount with each successive album,” says Meyer, who explains that in order to go beyond their advance, they need to sell over 250,000 copies of a single album, which these days is a bit of a pipe dream. “That’s what everyone says about the music industry,” adds Meyer, “it’s got all this glitter on it, but it’s always less flashy than it looks.”
The film also spends a great deal of time tracing the boys’ relationship with their manager, Alan Sacks—an industry vet best known for co-creating the TV series Welcome Back Kotter. It’s no mean feat trying to wrangle together a group of rowdy kids who, at times, are more interested in playing the latest Grand Theft Auto video game than practicing, but Sacks rules with an iron fist, banning Malcolm from skateboarding and, in one gripping sequence, taking a coveted bottle of soda and pouring it out in the middle of the street.
And that “lucrative” contract starts affecting the kids in strange ways. In one scene, Malcolm demands to see some evidence of the money, refusing to leave a van until he does. What he doesn’t realize is that the $1.8 million deal is a 360-deal that covers not only five albums, but also a cut of touring, publishing, merchandise, etc. In another remarkably self-aware moment, Malcolm turns to Sacks and asks if the only reason they were signed was because they’re these young, cute black kids who are into heavy metal. “You think Malcolm’s making this big discovery, but then you realize that he’s known this all along,” says Meyer.
Unlocking the Truth’s road to stardom began at age 4, when Malcolm and Jarad first met. Jarad began playing drums at age 2, and when he was 7, Malcolm’s mother bought him his first acoustic guitar. Six months later, he upgraded to electric. Around that time, Malcolm’s mother, who also serves as the band’s co-manager, took the boys to see one of their favorite bands live. “Back in 2009, we went to see Disturbed at the Izod Center,” Malcolm says. “It was our first concert ever, and we knew that’s what we wanted to do.”
Malcolm and Jarad performed as an instrumental guitar-and-drums duo, practicing in Malcolm’s apartment every day. Their first live show went down on March 7, 2012. That day, they competed in Amateur Night at Harlem’s Apollo Theater, and managed to advance to the second round before getting knocked out. It was then that Malcolm’s mother came up with the idea of having the kids do a series of street performances to build buzz. “We realized that most people who perform outside don’t get as much attention as us,” says Malcolm.
After a few DIY gigs they realized they needed a bassist to round out the group, and taught their pre-school pal Alec bass from scratch. And when these kids perform, they look as if they’ve been possessed by the spirits of Dimebag Darrell and Jeff Hanneman.
“I like the excitement of performing,” Jarad says. “How people feel entertained, and look at you, and get excited. We’re trying to become one of the best metal bands out there, and I believe that really shows in our performances, and how excited we are to perform for different crowds, people, and cultures.”
And then the bombardment of label meetings kicks in, as well as a lengthy rebranding period wherein Sony tries to convert them from an instrumental outfit to a group with singing—hiring a vocal coach to train and deepen Malcolm’s voice, which hasn’t quite cracked yet.
Despite the label imbroglio, Unlocking the Truth remain optimistic about their hard-rocking future. They’re happy to be missing school in order to melt people’s faces off across the globe, and hope to one day play Madison Square Garden, which they describe as “a very big dream.” They’ve also come to terms with the fact that their lives will never be the same.
“Our whole lives changed after we were signed,” says Jarad. “We can’t just go out and ‘do things,’ we have to get everything approved. But we realize that we’re not normal kids anymore and we have a career ahead of us, so we don’t want to mess that up.”
The head of the CIA’s Counterterrorism Center, who presided over the agency’s drone campaign and directed the hunt for Osama bin Laden, is being removed from his post, officials said, a watershed moment as the CIA turns its focus to a new generation of extremist threats.
The move, part of a major reorganization under CIA Director John Brennan, ends a nine-year tenure during which the center was transformed into a paramilitary force that employed armed drones to kill thousands of suspected terrorists and militants but also killed an unknown number of civilians.
As the architect of that campaign, the CTC chief came to be regarded as an Ahab-like figure known for dark suits and a darker demeanor. He could be merciless toward subordinates but was also revered for his knowledge of terrorist networks and his ability to run an organization that became almost an agency unto itself. He embodied a killing-centric approach to counterterrorism that enraged many Muslims, even though he is a convert to Islam.
What do folks do on mobile devices? Share photos and watch video. Two-thirds of mobile Web surfing occurs on just five websites, according to a recent Ericsson report: Facebook, YouTube, Netflix, Instagram and Snapchat.
https://plus.google.com/u/1/115428333563581901221/posts/FDZfx4eyct2?cfem=1
I love great art, no matter the medium.