AR&D Reinventing Local Media

Fellow new media consultant Tom Parish has posted a Podcast with yours truly. If you’re interested in hearing me drone on, here’s the link.

I’ve been invited to participate in what will be a very big event for me. On September 28, 2005, the Museum of Television & Radio’s Media Center will host the latest of its signature Dialogue events, titled The Intersection of Blogging and Mainstream News. On the 20-person panel with me will be Jeff Jarvis, Andrew Heyward, President of CBS News, Jon Klein, President of CNN, and Paul Steiger, Managing Editor of the Wall Street Journal. They apparently need an antagonist, so they chose me. Should be heaps-o-fun in the big apple.

(Cue Twilight Zone theme music)

Here is the world of Elmer Bundle, a man like any other man in any town anywhere. A job. A family. And wants and needs that shape the existence that he calls life. On this day, however, Mr. Bundle’s hum-drummery is about to take a side road — into a place where time and space aren’t what they seem — and life itself is turned upside-down — presented for your edification and entertainment — a place that we call The Unbundled Zone.

The scene is the neighborhood grocery store, where Elmer has purchased food for his family every week for 30 years. Only this day, something is different — so different that Mr. Bundle’s world will never be the same.

“What’ll it be today, Mr. Bundle,” asked Julie the clerk.

“Oh just the usual, Julie. I need a couple of bags of groceries and a bag of meat.”

“You’re funny,” she laughed. “Now, really; what can I do for you today?”

Elmer looked puzzled. “What do you mean? I said I need two bags of groceries and a bag of meat. I’ve bought the same thing here every week for the past 30 years.”

“Mr. Bundle, are you alright?”

“I’m FINE,” he retorted angrily. “Now, give me my food, and I’ll be on my way.”

“But, Mr. Bundle, what do you want in the bags?”

Bundle stood there, stunned by the question. Sweat began to emerge on his forehead, and he turned to survey the store. “What do you mean, what do I want in the bags? I want the usual, the way I’ve always done it.” He backed away and looked down the aisles of stacked food and goods. Gone were the people in the white jackets — professional food packagers — who were always busy filling the bags for awaiting customers. They were replaced by, well, the customers themselves, each pushing a large wagon made of thick wire. Into the wagons, the people put one of these and two of that, and they all seemed happy to do so.

Elmer began to tremble. “Wha, what’s going on here?”

How can these people decide for themselves? What about nutrition? What about spoilage and disease? What about new things that come along and all that fancy packaging? Do they really think they know what’s best for them? I come to this place, because I trust THEM to get it right for me.

“Can I help you, Mr. Bundle?” came a voice he recognized as belonging to Jack, the manager.

“Jack, Jack,” he rushed to meet him. “What IS this? What’s going on? I need my food for the week — my two bags of groceries and one bag of meat.”

“What are you talking about, Elmer? If you need some food, just grab a shopping cart and go get what you need.”

“But, Jack,” Bundle answered anxiously, “when did you change all this? I was just in here last week and everything was fine.”

“We haven’t changed anything,” the manager put his hand on Bundle’s shoulder and replied. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

Elmer Bundle stood there in stunned silence. His eyes bugged out, and sweat continued to dampen his face and neck. All he wanted was the usual, bags of groceries filled by the professional people in the white coats. Some of the items he liked, others he didn’t, but it didn’t matter, because that was just the way it was. His family saved the cans of lima beans to give to the poor at Christmas time, just as his father’s family had done, and his father’s before him. The mere thought that he might have to participate in the process was too much to comprehend, but the people in the store seemed to be doing just fine.

Confused and frightened, he stood there paralyzed. He didn’t see the ambulance arrive outside the store, and soon two men in white coats appeared behind him with a stretcher.

(Cue music)

Trapped between what was and what is to be, Elmer Bundle went insane. Unable and unequipped to deal in a world where personal choice evolved from that which was predetermined, he fell apart. So it is today — with media — in The Unbundled Zone.

(Cross-posted at The Morph Blog)

I love living in Music City. When people outside the area ask me about living here, I tell them, “Imagine every church having a fantastic band.” And it isn’t just country music that’s represented here. Every waiter or waitress is a budding song-writer, and a lot of the major rock bands find support people here.

That’s why this excellent article by the Associated Press caught my attention this morning (Thanks, J.D.).

The story offers an in-depth look at the do-it-yourself music industry that’s budding in the wake of the homogenized “guaranteed hit” formulas of the major record labels. This grassroots effort is an excellent illustration of what’s taking place in our culture overall, and all forms of media need to be paying attention.

How are all these aspiring musicians marketing their product? The Internet has been a huge boon, because it allows cheap, direct distribution of music to — and communication with — fans. Practically every artist now has an official Web site, most offering free MP3 downloads, and they maintain e-mail lists to promote upcoming shows and releases. Many musicians also sign up with services that license their songs to pay-per-download sites like iTunes.

A growing number of DIY bands have also begun to license their songs to television. The popularity of youth-oriented shows such as “Scrubs,” “Everwood” and “The O.C.” has created a burgeoning demand for music to be used in the background of scenes or over closing credits.

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