7th Heaven

Blind Spots

The predictable backlash to the sharing of Spotify Wrapped reports by subscribers of the streaming service is becoming increasingly annoying. Bitter killjoys who claim “Spotify doesn’t pay artists” clearly don’t care to read financial statements. Besides, the fact that the overwhelming majority of  artists and record labels employ Spotify speaks for itself.

Spotify hasn’t paid me a penny for my “content” (ugh!) at the service. Instead of deflecting the blame for my unpopularity, I’m thrilled my work is just a click away for anyone with an internet connection. With a more marketable concept I might be among the more than 10,000 artists earning more than $100,000 a year through Spotify streams.

Yet I’ve noticed an even more troubling trend. Citing principles, an increasing number of individuals claim to boycott all music streaming services. When I hear the audacious assertion, I’m forced to believe that either these people don’t really care for music or they limit their listening to highly specialized niches.

The internet killed my career twenty years ago, but there’s not point in being bitter. The capacity to hear almost everything on demand fulfills a lifelong fantasy. I consume hundreds of newly released songs and albums every week. It’s not a coincidence that I spent an unprecedented amount of money on tickets to more than 100 music events in 2024. That’s among the reasons why the 2024 edition of my Spotify Wrapped represents a dream come true.

Back in the day, I bought CDs, DVDs and VHS videos directly from Rich the Factor O.T.T. (out the trunk) or at the Kansas City retailer 7th Heaven. Now the groundbreaking local hero has more than 100 titles posted at Spotify. I almost certainly wouldn’t have become enamored with Grupo Frontera without access to music streaming. The band’s buoyant songs were my go-to party soundtrack throughout the year. As a dozen Hank Williams CDs moldered in the Museum of Dead People and Obsolete Music Formats in my basement, streaming versions of his pain songs were staples of my roadtrips.

Here’s a concession to the naysayers: obviously, I didn’t listen to Johann Sebastian Bach or Henry Purcell. That’s impossible. Spotify apparently prioritizes the composers’ tags over the performers’ labels. That’s presumably why the likes of Hilary Hahn, Anja Lechner and Brad Mehldau don’t show up here. I can only assume their representatives are aware of the anomaly.

Concert Review: Flooding at 7th Heaven

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Original image by There Stands the Glass.

Rendered senseless by my enchantment with Flooding’s self-titled album, I was involuntarily drawn like a moth to the glaring lights in the basement of 7th Heaven to catch the Kansas City debut of the young Lawrence trio on Friday, October 1. 

Flooding overcame harsh optics and an awkwardly demure audience of about 50 to successfully reproduce the recording’s haunting sound.  The convincing display of loud/soft, fast/slow dynamics validated my suspicion that Flooding is the region’s most promising new rock band.

Overlaying the downtempo elements of ‘80-era Sonic Youth with subsequent post-punk developments, Flooding has an engaging- albeit somewhat anachronistic- sound.  Rose Brown’s disarming whisper and effective guitar attack, Cole Billing’s reserved bass and terrifying screams and Zach Cunningham’s spare drumming revealed gobs of raw talent.

A few more rehearsals and additional gigs will almost certainly allow the trio to overcome the tentativeness and endearingly amateurish aspects evident at 7th Heaven.  I’m looking forward to bragging about having seen ‘em when.

Perfume opened the show.  The Kansas City trio’s recent release Charlie's Angels sounds like the Smashing Pumpkins gone wrong, but a couple promising moments of Perfume’s set approached the grandiosity of Billy Corgan’s band.

As the promoter (and my In My Headache podcast partner) confesses in his notes at Shuttlecock Music Magazine, the Louisville based headliner Sidestep was shortchanged. I wasn’t able to form an opinion of Sidestep’s sound as the musician raced against the retailer’s curfew.