The RoBeast vs. Cuntry

The world of popular music is pretty sad these days, but for some reason, I still read the charts every week. Call me a geek, but I could read Billboard for hours. I don't though, because I don't have that kind of time, and I don't buy Billboard. And I don't know how to read.

Instead, my number one source for all quick and dirty information in the world is USA Today, because it's the only newspaper my cafeteria sells and it has lots of pretty pictures and graphs that I can look at for 15 minutes while stuffing my face with yogurt. I get excited every Tuesday to see all these new names and faces of artists that I've never heard nor will take the time to actively seek out and listen to. I also look forward to rolling my eyes as I see USA Today's reviews of albums that mysteriously seem to always be rated between **1/2 and ***1/2. Their ratings just have no edge, and therefore, can not be trusted. Mine, on the other hand, have no room for mediocre. Music is either "The worst thing I've ever heard in my life" or "Awesome." And therefore, can not be trusted either.

Who can be trusted? Not USA Today, not me, and certainly not the Radio Industry. When I look at these charts, the only statistic that supports the airplay rankings are the "number of spins." To me that translates to either "the number of times radio stations played the songs that the record company told them to because they're both owned by the same corporate conglomoration and they're both trying to keep each others' sinking business afloat" or "the number of times radio stations played the songs based on the number of times other radio station played the songs based on what they read in the charts the week before." There's certainly nothing about requests, or sales in there, so the ratings are completely arbitrary and don't prove anything at all. Seether's "Rise Above This" is higher than Puddle of Mud's "Psycho" this week on the Active Rock chart. It doesn't mean "Rise Above This" is a better written song than "Psycho" (technically, they are both the worst thing I've ever heard in my life). It doesn't mean more people like one over the other either. It doesn't even prove that a single person has even heard either fucking song except the DJ's in the US who pressed play in the booth 1500 times. If there are even DJ's in booths that push buttons anymore.

I know this isn't far from the truth. When I was a DJ in college, we our playlists formatted by the programmers (albeit Student Programmers) way in advance. In that hour of music (no commercials in college), we were allowed ONE song to choose of our own. ONE pre-selected track from a rack of pre-selected CD's. It didn't matter if I got 20 requests for "Surprise, You're Dead" because I'd only be allowed to play "Epic." The theory behind that is "Well, we're playing this new Harvey Danger song every other hour, so people are probably just going to keep requesting that because it's all they know, and when you say 'I'll put it on for you,' you're not lying because it will be on in the next hour anyway!" Sometimes it worked in my favor because every douche in college just wants to hear "Blister in the Sun" over and over anyway, but it's still a shitty cyclical system of shit. Much like that phrase. One of the most memorable moments of my entire college radio career was the night the computer fucked up and skipped an hour of programming and I could pick whatever I wanted. JUST LIKE HOW RADIO USED TO BE EVERY FUCKING HOUR BEFORE IT WAS COMPLETELY RUINED BY CORPORATION GAMES. WE BUILT THIS CITY ON ROCK AND ROLL, GODDAMMIT.

Anyway, I don't want to talk about radio anymore. I just want to talk about country music. Every week I look at the Country charts, again, not knowing who anyone is or what their stupid song sounds like. All I know is that to be a top ranking Country artist (they are ranked by "points" not spins for some reason), you have to have a simple yet strong male name.

Typically, the first name should only have one syllable:

Blake Shelton
Jake Owen
James Otto
Joe Nichols
Josh Turner
Tim McGraw
Trace Adkins


Another thing that helps is having a first or last name that ends in "Y" or "LY." (This is also a good tip for naming a dog):

Brad Paisley
Dierks Bentley
Kenny Chesney (double points!)

If want to stray a little from the norm, it helps to incorporate a noun that reminds us of the South or chores on the farm:

Montgomery Gentry
Lady Antebellum
Ashton Shepherd
Carrie Underwood ("Paw made me chop down and carry underwood all day and now I gots me a splinter!")

These people who could've sold a lot more albums if they tried a little harder:

Toby Keith (should have been Keith Toby)
Jewel (should have had a penis)
Phil Vassar (that better not be short for Philosophy.Vassar.Edu, ya sneaky carpetbagger!)

Despite my mother's utter contempt for Shitkickin' Music (her words, not mine), it turns out that I actually have a near perfect Country Artist name:

Rollie Hatch (and hopefully, my stalkers will now subscribe to my blog when Googling me)

The real winner in the name game, and clearly supported by his number 1 ranking with 15,334 points for the week of whatever week this is...

George Strait

Say it out loud a few times. George Strait, George Strait, George Strait, start the fingerpickin'. You can't say it without nodding your head to a fucking Country N' Western backbeat! Plus it's such an everyman name. His last name is strong, simple and reminds us of waters difficult to navigate (definitely more treacherous than the Brooks of Garth). And George is probably your grandfather's name. Or your favorite President. Or the guy down the street that's always working in the yard early on weekends. And don't you worry about those soft G's, his name is as heterosexual and masculine as possible. George Bush certainly couldn't get to the top of the Country Charts.

Well there you go. Country is just as formulaic as all the other garbage out there...

FYI: The top two Smooth Jazz artist this week are Kenny G and Jessy J, but I don't really need to go writing a whole entry about them, now do I? Just look at this for a few hours.

Back in the Blue Lion and Reporting for Duty, sir!

I'm back y'all. I'm back y'all. I'm backer than back 'cuz I'm back y'all! Sorry for the interruption in Princess service. The last 2 weeks have been a doozy. Just as I was mustering up the strength to report on the rest of SXSW and plan a trip to WMC and South Beach, I was laid low. I got a crazy production gig on a movie or really the trailer of a movie. I was what we in the biz call a UPM or Unit Production Manager, and I had 4 business days to put together a crew of essentially 50 people. This is how it works. A production company from say LA or NY decides they are going to shoot a feature in anytown, USA. They then have to find someone local to put the shoot together. That person is me, but I am more like Ms. Wolf. I am the cleaner. "So you say we have a headless body, a blood-spattered cadillac, and 2 knuckleheads with brains all over them. I'm 30 minutes away; I'll see you in 15." Yes. Your Princess is a specialist in shit sandwiches. This one was no different. Let me outline for you the degree of difficulty I faced on this particular shoot. I got the call end of business day on Good Friday. Sweet. A holiday weekend? Awesome, no one is going to call me back 'til Monday. You need 50 crew and equipment and film and catering? Plus, there already are 3 features and MTV in town shooting. And why is that? Because the writer's strike just ended, and we have a month until the SAG strike, so EVERYONE and I mean EVERYONE is busting ass to get as much production done in the shortest window possible. This, of course, means that we are all fighting over the same crews and equipment. Everyone is already booked. Everyone is already working. All the equipment is pretty much rented out. Now you have 4 business days until the shoot. Make the magic happen. And by god, I fucking did.

I spent the next 4 days in a full court press with my production coordinator (@tigerlilybelle you RAWK), and we called every single asshole in town. Seriously. Every single one. I thought my phone was going to meltdown or spontaneously combust. I had to recharge it a minimum of 3 times a day. It was insanity. I ended up bringing people in from the 3 other surrounding towns and getting people to drive down for the shoot. Oh yeah, the shoot was all at night and all exteriors. Who doesn't jump at the chance to pull an all-nighter in the wet and cold, and then turn around and drive home afterwards? SWEET! We didn't even have enough headsets for the whole crew because we had the last 20 headsets in TOWN. There were no more to be had anywhere. Then, because that was not hard enough for me, I go and convince them to add a real live stunt. Now we have stunt people and EMTs and more equipment. You never cheap out your stunts. You want a big hook moment in your trailer to grab the audience and bring them to see the movie, so your stunt better look good. NO faking it with a piece of pipe and some tight shots of the actress' face. Boo Hiss. That way leads to madness and bullshit and is a waste of cash. If you're gonna spend the money anyway...do it right.

Adding the stunt added a +10 modifier of difficulty to my job though. Because now there are EMTs to bring in and stunt people and a stunt coordinator and more equipment such as stunt pads and harnesses and rigging. I do not think I can adequately impress upon you, the gentle readers, how fizzucking hard this shit is under a normal circumstance, but to do all this in 4 business days (the shoot was on Friday and I had Monday-Thursday to figure it all out) with everyone already booked out is well-nigh impossible. But, I am a Princess and a professional and so is everyone I choose to work with. We made that shit happen. I was still staffing the day OF the shoot. Yes, the day of. You read that correctly. Not only, did we get an awesome and super professional crew with tons of experience; we got all the equipment and filmstock and cranes and lights and hoopla, and we got everyone fed yummy organic food. Good food is the secret to any kind of set. You need good food for the crew, or they will mutiny. People will put up with an asshole DP (Director of Photography) or a rainstorm or freezing temperatures if they have good food. Oh and, all DPs are assholes. ALL. It is the nature of the job.

I worked a 25 hour day the day of the shoot. Me. Up for 25 hours working without the benefit of any kind of helpful drugs. Then I went into a mini-coma, and the second I recovered I had to do my returns and paperwork and shoot accounting which I sent off yesterday, and then I went out and got shitfaced drunk. So, that's where I was. I had nary a stray moment or brain cell to devote to the blog or anything else for that matter like washing my hair. From now on, I am going to have a bunch of posts pre-written just in case this kind of thing happens again, and it will. I am still on my learning curve with the bloggy blog blogthing. Bear with me. Have patience. I will never abandon you completely. I will never quit you entirely. If the blog ever (hah) starts generating cash, then I can loll about without pants and spend all my time stringing words together to titillate and amuse you. Until then though, Mommy has a mortgage payment and Voltron is costly to maintain. All the maintenance and spare parts and the fluids and spark plugs and such cost real Planet Arus dollars. Until then, I must jump on board when the works comes knocking on my door. Between my sheer exhaustion and this hangover, I have about 5 working brain cells left. I'm gonna go lay down now and dream of a world without pants.

Princess Out.

ps. Did I mention this movie is about Willie Nelson? Oh yeah, the red-headed stranger was on set until 3:15am.