NYC. Back in New York this week for some business meetings and it's ass-freezing cold. I know it's been a few years since I've endured a real winter and this weather reminds me of one of the reasons I live in southern California.
I had some time to check in with our good friend and great producer Hal Willner. Hal told me about a protest that was happening downtown and did I want to go with him? Protest? Hell yes!
We met down on Leonard St. for a demonstration in front of the Knitting Factory. As I turned the corner up the block, I could hear the street echoing with the sounds of trumpets, trombones and drums. It was a joyful noise. It vibrated up the faces of Manhattans buildings and down the corridors of the Financial District. There were, maybe, 100 people carrying signs and marching up and down Leonard. The deal was that the Knitting Factory management sold the club and sold out the musicians who have worked there, many of whom recorded for their label.
Word was they also destroyed all the remaining inventory of CD's belonging to the artists who are the heart and soul of NYC's downtown experimental music scene and who have kept experimental music alive there. The Knitting Factory was the axis of a great creative sphere. As with most things, the center never holds and it had all come apart.
As is usually the case, the musicians got no consideration whatsoever for their contributions. All their recording contracts were cancelled in one fell swoop. This was wrong. Not unusual, but most definitely wrong. But they weren't taking this affront lying down. My old comrade Mark Ribot and his downtown partners pulled this event together to stand up for their rights. It was exciting to be there and to participate.
Mark had a giant rat out on the sidewalk in front of the club. When I say giant, I mean Giant--as in 20-feet tall--clearly representing the musicians' view of the true character of the Knitting Factory management. It was a funny editorial statement.
The cats on the protest line were playing some loose gospel and second-line tunes interspersed with speeches by the president of the NYC musicians Local Union #802. Many musicians and other city officials stood with the artists for justice and we demanded it. Ribot did a song or two and I was compelled to raise my own voice up in protest. I sang "Broken Promise" for the demonstrators. The lines "the deal is sold out, and the sidewalk's cold out in the Promised Land" hit home with the assembly. I was honored to be able to represent for all the Detroit and Los Angeles musicians and I told the crowd that we were all with them in total solidarity. There's power in unity.
As the event progressed, we started getting reports that, as a result of our being out there, the Knitting Factory management had entered into negotiations with the musicians and they were willing to work something out. We all dug in for a long afternoon. Everybody was carrying signs and enjoying each other's company. It isn't that often that you'll see a collection of cutting-edge musicians out on the street in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon in 20-degree weather. We all caught up on our news and exchanged numbers and sang along with the wonderfully powerful NYC vocalist, Dean Bowman as he improvised a field holler of protest. Syd Straw was there and she promised to sing on my new record. After a couple of hours in the brutal cold, the Union president announced that an agreement had been reached! It included a cash payout for all the musicians involved and a reasonable artist buy-back price of $2.00 per CD on the stock. Victory!
It was truly a sweet moment. Musicians had banded together and took it to the streets to protest getting fucked over. Getting the short end of the stick is nothing new for working musicians, but this was the first time I was ever involved in a real job action that got immediate results. My hat is off to all the NYC downtown brothers and sisters who stepped up.
Power to the workers.
Have a peaceful New Year.
Wayne
December, 2004
New York City
I had some time to check in with our good friend and great producer Hal Willner. Hal told me about a protest that was happening downtown and did I want to go with him? Protest? Hell yes!
We met down on Leonard St. for a demonstration in front of the Knitting Factory. As I turned the corner up the block, I could hear the street echoing with the sounds of trumpets, trombones and drums. It was a joyful noise. It vibrated up the faces of Manhattans buildings and down the corridors of the Financial District. There were, maybe, 100 people carrying signs and marching up and down Leonard. The deal was that the Knitting Factory management sold the club and sold out the musicians who have worked there, many of whom recorded for their label.
Word was they also destroyed all the remaining inventory of CD's belonging to the artists who are the heart and soul of NYC's downtown experimental music scene and who have kept experimental music alive there. The Knitting Factory was the axis of a great creative sphere. As with most things, the center never holds and it had all come apart.
As is usually the case, the musicians got no consideration whatsoever for their contributions. All their recording contracts were cancelled in one fell swoop. This was wrong. Not unusual, but most definitely wrong. But they weren't taking this affront lying down. My old comrade Mark Ribot and his downtown partners pulled this event together to stand up for their rights. It was exciting to be there and to participate.
Mark had a giant rat out on the sidewalk in front of the club. When I say giant, I mean Giant--as in 20-feet tall--clearly representing the musicians' view of the true character of the Knitting Factory management. It was a funny editorial statement.
The cats on the protest line were playing some loose gospel and second-line tunes interspersed with speeches by the president of the NYC musicians Local Union #802. Many musicians and other city officials stood with the artists for justice and we demanded it. Ribot did a song or two and I was compelled to raise my own voice up in protest. I sang "Broken Promise" for the demonstrators. The lines "the deal is sold out, and the sidewalk's cold out in the Promised Land" hit home with the assembly. I was honored to be able to represent for all the Detroit and Los Angeles musicians and I told the crowd that we were all with them in total solidarity. There's power in unity.
As the event progressed, we started getting reports that, as a result of our being out there, the Knitting Factory management had entered into negotiations with the musicians and they were willing to work something out. We all dug in for a long afternoon. Everybody was carrying signs and enjoying each other's company. It isn't that often that you'll see a collection of cutting-edge musicians out on the street in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon in 20-degree weather. We all caught up on our news and exchanged numbers and sang along with the wonderfully powerful NYC vocalist, Dean Bowman as he improvised a field holler of protest. Syd Straw was there and she promised to sing on my new record. After a couple of hours in the brutal cold, the Union president announced that an agreement had been reached! It included a cash payout for all the musicians involved and a reasonable artist buy-back price of $2.00 per CD on the stock. Victory!
It was truly a sweet moment. Musicians had banded together and took it to the streets to protest getting fucked over. Getting the short end of the stick is nothing new for working musicians, but this was the first time I was ever involved in a real job action that got immediate results. My hat is off to all the NYC downtown brothers and sisters who stepped up.
Power to the workers.
Have a peaceful New Year.
Wayne
December, 2004
New York City
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