For a few days, I was tasked with researching the life of Christopher Savage. Savage had moved to D.C. from Bakersfield, Calif. in the hopes of starting a new life. After five days in the District, he ended up dead. The cause of his death remains a mystery. His life is a different matter. He tended to wear his life on his sleeve. You can read the full story here.

But one thing that struck me–aside from everything else–about Savage was his dedication to being a punk rocker. He came here with three jean jackets emblazoned with shoutouts to his beloved Turbonegro. He also brought with him only one CD: a best-of Motorhead compilation. And for his new friends, a sack of Crass buttons.

Savage was 36. It’s just a long time to be a punk rocker. I don’t think this is so rare anymore. The Internet certainly helps. He lived on the Turbonegro fan message boards. And just about any band has some sort of forum for other fans to communicate with each other–trade bootlegs, merch, set lists, and just feel like they are a part of something. So few scenes feel like scenes anymore. Except on the Internet. Pitchfork makes a point about this today with its review of the new No Age record–a band very much rooted in a city and in an all-ages space.

Maybe with the music shake-up in Mount P, things could change here as well.

A friend just pointed out this post from Jessica Hopper’s blog, in which the blacklist-happy music writer goes after Chicago black-metal band Nachtmystium. The problem? Well, Hopper thinks they’re racist and homophobic.

Now, I loved Nachtmystium’s last album from 2006, an arty slab of psychedelic metal called Instinct: Decay. But I don’t go around doing due diligence on every band I like, so I’d never read any interviews in which frontman Blake Judd uses questionable language, or expresses questionable ideas.

But I decided to Google Nachtmystium and “Zionist conspiracy” and got nothing but Hopper’s blog. (Googling “Nachtmystium” and “Zionist” gets you here.) I didn’t bother with the f-word, because it seems clear enough that the guy is upset with message board lurkers, not, um, gay people.

Now, I’m not going to condone what Judd said, but, if Hopper’s going to call out poor Stephin Merritt for not liking rap, then perhaps she will understand that–as Faulkner once said about the South–some of us like despite, not because of.

Ben Sisario’s NYT article about indie record stores was quite a bummer, but Sasha Frere-Jones blog post from last Friday got me thinking that the demise of 3,100 record stores since 2003 isn’t such a bad thing.

SFJ writes: “There are many educating angels out there, and I owe several kind people a lifetime’s tuition, but, good Lord, record-store employees can be grumpy. And scary. And insulting. And make you feel like never ever going into a store again. And that’s relevant.”

It is relevant. We’ve all had these High Fidelity-type experiences and if you think of this stuff in small business terms–as opposed to cultural terms–it’s especially baffling.

I certainly don’t welcome the demise of record stores, but here are some questions to think about, once again in small business terms…

Will the stores that are left over have to work much harder for your money?

Will they have to do things to differentiate themselves from the vast resources of the internet?

Will they be much happier to see you walk through the door?

I think the answer to all three is ‘yes.’ Is this a tragedy? Not at all.

Man. The New York Times has a pretty depressing story today on the state of the indie record store. Here’s the nugget you all should take away:

“Some 3,100 record stores around the country have closed since 2003, according to the Almighty Institute of Music Retail, a market research firm. And that’s not just the big boxes like the 89 Tower Records outlets that closed at the end of 2006; nearly half were independent shops. In Manhattan and Brooklyn at least 80 stores have shut down in the last five years.”

Well. We can do something about it. National Record Store Day hits this Saturday. A number of area shops are getting in on the action. Crooked Beat in Adams Morgan plans to mark the day with free grab bags of cool stuff. The first 50 paying customers will get bags stuffed with CDs, stickers, 7-inch singles, buttons, and posters.

One lucky customers will receive a bag containing a $20 gift certificate to the shop. Sounds like a good time as it always is at Crooked Beat.

So at least for one day, we should stop downloading, freeloading, and burning.

Baltimore gets “Best Scene” in the new Rolling Stone “Best of Rock” issue. Does this mean that the Baltimore scene is officially over?

Yesterday, in the A-section, the Washington Post ran an article about DJ Kool Herc and his efforts to save the Bronx apartment building in which he invented hip-hop back in 1973.

The developer who is trying to buy the building, where DJ Kool Herc spun in the rec room, would, presumably, turn it into something other than a hip-hop museum.

DJ Kool Herc is going to hold a fundraiser to help the tenants buy the building themselves. But wouldn’t this be the perfect acquisition for some hip-hop mogul? I mean, Lexus, shmexus. Who needs another hot tub when you can own the building where it all started? Am I right?

Los Angeles Times‘ Patrick Goldstein seems to think so. Of course, what he’s really talking about is consumer criticism–telling people how to spend their time and money.

I tend to agree more with Robert Christgau, who says–and I’m paraphrasing here–rock criticism isn’t for fans of rock music, it’s for fans of rock criticism.

People don’t seem to get this, so let’s put it in cable-television terms: the reason that album sales are down is because albums used to be a monopoly of sorts (like cable packages) and once consumers had the option to pick-and-choose the songs they like, overall sales went down (which is why some stations like CBN lobby to keep these packages in place). It’s protectionism. And no protectionism equals lower sales. Which is why I agree with Rick Rubin: You gotta get the art right.

After hearing that the recent Kimya Dawson show at the Black Cat didn’t quite sell out, we thought maybe the Juno soundtrack phenomena had come and gone. Amazingly, the soundtrack is still holding its own among indie rock’s stalwarts. At least at Adams Morgan’s Crooked Beat. Here’s the store’s top ten sellers from March:

1. Stephen Malkmus - Real Emotional Trash
2. Vampire Weekend - s/t
3. Mountain Goats - Heretic Pride
4. Beach House - Devotion
5. Raconteurs - Consolers of the Lonely
6. Dirtbombs - We Have You Surrounded
7. Juno - Juno soundtrack
8. Mission of Burma - Signals, Calls & Marches
9. Magnetic Fields - Distortion
10. Destroyer - Trouble in Dreams

Postie Tom Sietsema, in a Sunday magazine feature, vents about the decibel levels at various restaurants. Early on, he checks his handy decibel counter and sees that the noise level is equal to a lawn mower. I have to say the piece resonated with me.

I am no fan of the loud restaurant. A few weeks ago, at a local organic fancy pizza shop, I had to endure hits from the ’80s blaring at top volume. No fun.

Last night at a coffee shop, I had to endure late ’90s emo. All I wanted to do was read my book.

But the real issue for me is that these places don’t seem to play any local music. Not once have I walked into a store, restaurant or coffee shop and heard Georgie James or the Evens or Trouble Funk or Rare Essence. [I know there are other worthy bands and musicians that I’m leaving out]. Granted, there are some bars that do a good job stocking their jukeboxes with local favorites. But for the most part, the local eateries blow off the local scene.

If they want to crank it up, they should at least keep some local albums on rotation!