Another death in pop, one that will not resonate as far and wide as Michael Jackson’s:  Sky Saxon, the leader of the 1960s LA garage band, the Seeds, has died in Austin, Texas.  Saxon—with his signature yelp and penchant for writing songs that topped out at two or three chords, tops—was a cult superhero during the garage-revival days of the 1980s, after “Can’t Seem to Make You Mine” become one of the most esteemed cuts off the influential “Nuggets” compilations (and rumors abounded that Saxon, after his music career ended, had gone on to dog worshipping).  The song has been covered by the likes of Alex Chilton, Yo La Tengo, and nearly everyone who’s bashed away in a basement rehearsal space.

Here are the Seeds, with Sky Saxon, on American Bandstand:

Michael Jackson performs in Tokyo in 1987 (Dave Hogan/Getty)

I learned the news the way so many of us do these days: from a text message from a friend with whom I have a long-standing habit of texting, calling, and e-mailing, whenever a public figure passes away.  It’s been a busy week, of course, but the news of Michael Jackson’s death—after all the rumors of poor health, of comeback shows arranged and possibly cancelled—brings the level of surreal disbelief to a new threshold.

I’m just absorbing the news like everyone else.  One of those tragic ends that somehow seemed inevitable.  And even saying that much feels like too much.

Oddly enough, news searches for “Michael Jackson” don’t even bring up his death yet.  But  TMZ.com, along with Canadian television, are reporting the news.

For some reason, Wow and Flutter feels like travelling back to Thatcher’s England, when every band sounded just a wee bit like the Smiths. Or like Echo and the Bunnymen. Here are some forgotten nuggets for your listening pleasure.

Pale Fountains, “Jean’s Not Happening.”  This is almost like a Brit version of the Paisley Underground:

You still there? Good. For track two, let’s keep it in a 1984 mood with “Take,” by the Colourfield. These guys are coiffed. But not too, too much:

Nice jeans, right? From 1985, James, with “If Things Were Perfect”:

You might have guessed that these tracks were from an actual mix tape, back when mix tapes were actual things that people mixed for each other. As these songs never reflected my own taste and did little to turn me into a lifelong fan of James, the Colourfield, or the Pale Fountains (the tape was mixed for me, not by me), they’ve somehow remained all the more indelible in my mind—as if their very evanescence has made the memory of them all the more compelling. These tracks were on one of those perfect mix tapes: The kind given to you by a friend in the first rush of intimacy, when all sorts of fantastical projections can be made upon the Other, including “I bet he would just LOVE the Colourfield!”

Oddly enough, this tape, as I recall, was also scattered with b-sides from REM and maybe some Robyn Hitchcock, stuff I actually liked at the time. But it was these oddball tracks—destined not to even become cult classics despite the relative semi-success of James and the Colourfield (oddly, one of the members of the short-lived Pale Fountains would go on to join James)—that managed to stand out and which leapt, unbidden, into my brain the other night. I’m not even sure what to call this genre, if indeed it is one. Thatcher Twee Pop? Short Back and Sides?

I’ll leave you with one more for the weekend. A couple of years earlier and a bit more commercially viable. I don’t think I’d ever seen a video for this one and I don’t recall Roddy Frame wearing a Confederate kepi. Odd how the memory—Memorex?—tends to mix everything up.

Here’s Aztec Camera with… “Oblivious.”

OK, so maybe Jammie Thomas-Rasset is lying. And “file-sharing” really is stealing. But surely most people with barely a passing interest in such matters will view the $1.92 million-penalty handed down in a Minneapolis courtroom yesterday at the conclusion of the only downloading case to ever make it this far (and to make it twice, as this was a replay of a 2007 trial) as perhaps a wee bit excessive. After all, that figure covers 24 mp3s, each one valued—or, in fact, overvalued, if you consider the fact that there is no distribution or manufacturing involved and that the sound quality is neglible—at about 99 cents. Sure, thousands of people may have gone on to share these mp3s. But, really—80,000 per track?

Wow and Flutter does not support piracy. We’re much too modest and bland and a little fearful of the Pirate Bay crowd. The issues are confusing. Music conglomerates are detestable entities (and surely not about to make any more friends after this trial), but musicians deserve to be compensated for their efforts. If they’re not, bye bye music.

Perhaps Jammie can ask for a $1.92-million advance from the Mille Lacs Band of Ojibwe Indians, for whom she apparently works  in their Department of Natural Resources and Environment. More likely, they’ll settle up for a more manageable several thousand dollars. In other words, the weekly expense account of an executive at Warner’s, Sony, Universal, or EMI. Enjoy.

More brazen than payola, more swaggering than Oasis, more in-your-face than Pirate Bay—a ring of British musicians and DJs has resorted to outright fraud to make a quid or two.

A group, including a number of DJs, have been accused of making hundreds of thousands of pounds by buying their own music online with stolen credit cards.

It’s alleged the gang put their own music on Apple iTunes and Amazon and spent about £459,000 buying it back – claiming nearly £200,000 in royalties.

Nine people were arrested in London and the Midlands after a joint operation with a new E-crime unit and the FBI….

The gang are alleged to have used 1,500 stolen credit cards.

via BBC – Newsbeat – Music.