Sound carries in my neighborhood. When somebody cranks up their music you can hear it all the way down the block. I’ll put something on, turn it up, open the doors and windows, and go outside to do yard work. Eventually it always draws someone over to ask what they’re hearing. I gave the mailman an extra copy of a CD when he asked about a song. He said he loved it and asked how he could find more like it. I have Euge and Mindi on my tailgating music mix, and yeah, people in the parking lot stoked on beer and BBQ have asked, “What’s that song?”  Somewhere in the midst of a nonlinear conversation with one of my favorite singers, I ended up singing a hilariously quirky singer-songwriter song to him, telling him there were more from where that came from, and he wanted to hear them.  A friend took a CD she was thinking about reviewing to her office and played it for her friends during lunch. She made a little event out of it, invited them and brought in some food. It wasn’t a hit by a high profile artist, just a really good project by an up-and-coming act. People loved it they wanted to know where they could buy it. They enjoyed hearing something different.

People say that music just isn’t as good as it used to be, or as important a part of their lives as it used to be. Then some song sneaks through the filters, past the gatekeepers, gets to you and proves that it’s just not so! It’s getting that far that’s the problem. Corporate owners have put a chokehold on radio playlists, trying to see how few songs they can get away with playing. Even the satellite networks that were supposed to be so innovative have succumbed to the corporate approach of less songs more often as competition for subscribers and the need to appease investors has become imperative. It seems like we are subjected to a decreasing amount of songs that we hear so often and in so many places, that we shut down when we hear them.  Shutting down becomes reflex, and we shut down altogether. One day while running errands I heard the same set of songs in the grocery store, the fabric store, and at a restaurant. At work, where customers waiting in line have their crankiness enhanced by long sets of depressing ten-year-old ballads from Whitney and Mariah, I fantasize about hijacking the sound system, plugging in my iPod, and entertaining them with lots of delicious vocal and instrumental obscurities. If each of them were captivated by any one song, went home to buy it, started searching for more like it, and shared them with friends, we’d have a small revolution. People would get excited about music because following a thread of recommendations, listening to song after song and being led to follow more threads is addictive.

There is a lot of talk about Smooth Jazz being in crisis. Radio stations flipping formats, sales dropping, concert attendance lagging.  Some of this is the result of the disconnect that comes when over familiarity and unobtrusiveness lull people into inertia. Some of it is the gap left when the old ways don’t work and the new ways haven’t become established. The old way was for listeners to wait for some authority figure to tell them what was worthy of their attention. After a marketer, critic, or radio programmer validated a song or an album, it became OK to like it. If nobody liked it but you, then you questioned your instincts. Even now I hear radio people say they can’t play a song they think their listeners will love because the record company isn’t “working” it. As if a listener knows or cares about industry insider stuff. When you can go online and buy the song anyway why should it matter? The new way is to trust your instincts and spread the word. The internet has busted the concept of expertise. It used to be that you had to present your credentials to some higher-up who would then validate you by hiring you to write about music. Now all you need is your ears and a modem. You can jump in and blog, post on forums, set up a MySpace page, post iMixes and song lists, join an official street team or become an unofficial one. Even the stodgiest record companies have someone, somewhere, with an ear to the street. If each of us just took that one favorite song that is not getting the exposure you think it deserved and shared it with five other people, think of the potential repercussions. Don’t shake your head and say, “I’m not an expert.  Why would anyone listen to me?”  You probably did it when you were a kid in school, so it will come back to you. Just seek, find, and spread the word!

- Shannon West