Click here to avoid this nonsense and listen to some free music.
BOYCOTT EMI / CAPITOL RECORDINGS!
If you’re looking for the Beachles, try searching torrent sites like Isohunt, PirateBay, PirateNova, MiniNova, MegaNova, TorrentSpy, or What.CD. I have no idea if the record can still be found at any of these websites, but I don’t think I’m breaking any laws by telling you that they’re excellent places to look for illegal stuff you’re not supposed to download. Also, you might try using P2P clients like Soulseek or LimeWire, but I don’t have a clue.
Click here to listen to an interview I did for Canadian radio. Thanks, Aaron! I may post more if they are sent my way.
Click here to download a new track I made called “Fuck EMI.” Me vs. EMI vs. King Tubby vs. Jatin Lalit vs. Sergio del Rio vs. Fernandinho Beatbox vs. Herb Alpert. I made this mix in about an hour, so don’t expect the Beachles or anything. Dig it, spin it, throw it around.
Click here to send an email to EMI US Legal. Or, you can simply write EMI / Capitol an appurtenant letter:
EMI Group plc
27 Wrights Lane
London W8 5SW
If you care at all about freedom of thought, freedom of expression, or your digital rights, please take the time to write letters to any and every news outlet regarding this case. It’s never too late to show these guys what we’re made of, and we’re just getting started!
I have received a cease and desist order from EMI’s legal team, and it really (as in: not joking) sounds like they want to torture me to death in some dungeon. I hope Paul and Brian come to my rescue now, ’cause I haven’t got a dime for these guys to take. I’ve been struggling as an artist for years, putting most of what little money I’ve had into recording my own music. The Beachles are still out there, though. If you want to break the law, check ‘em out. They’ve threatened to sue me big time.
And for what? For making something? So others would look at them as inhuman monsters, utterly incapable of recognizing art? Or is it just the distribution? Nope… all three. Or so it would seem. I shouldn’t have even made it, they claim. And they want me to give up people’s IPs. That much I can tell you because of some legal humfuddery I dreamt up, but also (and more importantly) because I have a conscience. After all, would any of you want to be sued for following a link from Entertainment Weekly ? For the record, I never sold a single copy of this piece of art—if it is art. Fair use, in your face, come and get me. You can not take my life, Capitol Recordings. Unless you do. Could happen. I wouldn’t put it past you.
Would any of you want to be investigated for streaming one of these songs from a blog or website? Even if you never visited this site? Because EMI’s attorneys, in no uncertain terms, are saying that they want ALL information regarding ANY and ALL persons who, knowingly or elseways, downlaoded or streamed this media. Forget about your rights, because they don’t exist. Even if you just accidentally clicked a link to a streamable MP3, they want your name, your address, everything that I might have to give to them. I have already told them once, but I’m now telling them again, on the record, to get bent. This isn’t their Universe anymore, and even if no one else will stand with me against the corporate ogres, I will fight this battle ’til my dying breath, stabbing, perhaps ineffectually, at the stinking feet of their unthinkable contemptuousness. They’ve picked on the wrong guy this time. I’m a Leo, but I ain’t so cowardly. Rawr!
But another thing is: what’s it worth to them? The distribution of this mutant offspring in no way detrimentally affected the sales of the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Go-Gos, Gary Numan, or any number of the huge list of other Kapital artists whose work, as you all know, was used for material on this website. If anything, it’s boosted sales… people couldn’t wait to hear the originals after listening to the Beachles! I bought all of the material I used; probably the sixth or seventh time I’ve owned Sgt. Pepper’s on disc, since CDs, as we all know, provide a lifetime of listening enjoyment, and possibly the fifth or sixth time for Pet Sounds.
And frankly, just who in the Hell do you think you are to say what’s allowed to be made? You pump the slurry of incompetence down the sputtering, overstuffed chullet of your little mass consumerism Worldwide Freak Police Deadly Gangster Frankenstein Computer God Communism slave-machine every single day. It is you, sirs and madams, who deserve to be sued, or tried and hung, by every single one of them, for making them settle for trash for so very long. You rob them of their dreams and identities every day, O Faceless One, you disappoint them, and truly you are unashamed. You are incapable of having a heart, and that is why you could never be human. C’est la vie. You are who and what you are, and nothing will ever change that. I could never envy you soulless bastards.
Again, who are you to tell me what I can do with my free time? Are you THOUGHT NAZIS?! Sure the FUCK seems like it to me. And to plenty of other people, too. I’ll bet you couldn’t get it up in high school, EMI. Maybe the truth is: I’m some kind of MUSICAL TERRORIST. I know that you will try to characterize me as such, but your efforts will only serve to make the bloated and disfigured countenance of your dismal charade seem that much less ambrosial to small-town folk like me. Do You feast on the bones of children? Do You mindlessly imbibe their retch as they do Yours? You have poisoned the well, and now are made to drink from it. This is You. It was You who destroyed my dreams, but for now I rule the Day, and I’m bigger than the Beachles ever were. Suck on that.
We’re at War. You know: Iraq. Things suck right now, all over the World, because of nescient fatcats like You. This whole culture war is Your doing. You’re the reason smart people hate you. You phonies. You lusus naturae. You don’t care about artists and art… You only give a fuck about the bottom line of the balance sheet, and You’ve doubtlessly never experienced the thrill of creating something, even if it was scrapped together haphazardly out of something else. It’s gratifying.
You’re a lot of crybaby nobodies, just like all of those dying crybaby somebodies you bilk around the World, every day, day in and day out, sucking them dry of their meager wealth and their dignity, stealing from them any chance to succeed as thinkers, doers, and makers. But mostly just underhandedly exploiting their weaknesses and giving back very little. I demand that you hang your heads in shame. Because of this stunt of mine, some teenagers may actually BUY your shitty 40th anniversary repackaging of Pet Sounds. The only way this could be bad for business is if you also happened to own the rights to the Beachles’ record, which you don’t. My effing mind does. Try to take that away, Big Shots.
You should be ashamed for accepting one form of art and not another. You made me listen to shitty records all through junior high, and now I’m finally reclaiming a bit of my own integrity. FUCK Crowded House. And oh my God, I almost forgot… Sheena Fucking Easton. Jesus Christ, my skin’s crawling. Daily, you “people” force-feed innocent children your vomitous noise pollution, and then you expect for them to grow up normal? I’m a reflection of you. But I’ll always love the Beatles and the Beach Boys. Who wouldn’t? You’ll never get me alive, Copper!
If you want for me to take this message off of my website, drop the charges. If you want for me to reimburse you for your “losses,” give me a better record deal than the ones I’ve turned down this week. It’ll be much better publicity than suing a starving artist over one of the stupidest, funniest minor success stories of the year. If you want to talk about sports, get bent. But if you want to settle this over a game of Scrabble and some drunken arm wrestling, I’m game. I will clean the floor with your lily-white asses. Ofay motherfuckers. Let’s do this thing! I mean it!
They say their email is confidential, but it’s deliciously hateful, some of it even sarcastic. I’d like to see how legally binding it really is, but I’m not that brave. If you want juicy highlights, though, get in touch. For legal reasons, I’m not going to provide a link to my email address here, so you’ll just have to think of something. And you’ll probably have to be someone I’ve known for years. The greed is almost sexual in nature. Very disturbing. I just hope I come out of this alive. And with all of my toenails.
Well, I guess I’m an outlaw now. And a word to anyone who disagrees: if I refuse to pay them any money, or to turn myself in, an outlaw’s what I am. They’ll have to come and get me, which is easier said than done. That line was written with tongue firmly in-cheek, but I would gladly do prison time as a show of civil disobedience. I won’t make it any easier for them, however. Believe it or not, I’m doing this for people like you—for people like everyone. I’m doing it for the dead people being sued by the RIAA, and the Grandmas who’ve never heard of Britney Spears, but who are nonetheless victims of a vicious rape-machine that is designed specifically to take, to absorb, to deceive and to extort, but never to feel. I’m doing it for all of us. Most people wouldn’t have the guts to say what I’m saying now. When’s the last time a DJ took a stand against these bastards?! The bloodsucking pirates! The insatiable mongrels!
And you may think that I’m a bit of a bastard myself. I’m not, really, but some of you are bound to feel that way. Still, is EMI right to sue any of us for having a good time? As mentioned before this page was preempted, no matter who you are, I’m your friend for life. I would gladly stick my neck out for any one of you who cares about little things like digital rights. And just so you know, I would hope that you’d do the same for me. Otherwise, we’d all roll over and do little tricks for these guys, and do they deserve it? What have they done in the name of art? Except to punish those who enjoy it? And promote a vastitude of sameness? LIES!
I have no idea what I’ll do next, but it’ll probably be from a prison cell somewhere. Thanks for listening. We love to see you smile.
AND BOYCOTT EMI / CAPITOL!
AND ROBBIE FUCKING WILLIAMS!
Following is an excerpt from the “cease and desist” portion of the letter, pertaining to hundreds of thousands of EMI’s customers. I am publishing it because I consider it to be a matter of public interest. Particular attention should be paid to section (c)(iii).
Demand is accordingly made that you immediately and permanently:
(a) cease and desist from the manufacture, sale, offering for sale, offering for download/streaming, and/or other reproduction and distribution of the Beachles Mash-Up Recordings and the Other Mash-Up Recordings as well as any other unauthorized uses of the Capitol Recordings and/or other sound recordings owned and/or controlled by Capitol;
(b) cease and desist from the manufacture, sale, offering for sale, offering for download, and/or other reproduction and distribution of the Infringing Artwork as well as any other unauthorized uses of the Beatles Artwork, the Beach Boys Artwork, and/or other artwork owned and/or controlled by Capitol;
(c) provide Capitol with information regarding downloading and/or streaming of the Beachles Mash-Up Recordings and the Other Mash-Up Recordings to date, including but not limited to: (i) the dates on which those recordings were streamed and/or downloaded; (ii) the number of times those recordings were streamed and/or downloaded; and (iii) any and all available information regarding persons who streamed and/or downloaded those recordings;
Update: I have been informed by my friendly neighborhood sysadmin that records of IPs only stay on our server for three days. Since much of this Internet stuff is lost on me, there was no way for me to comply with EMI’s preposterous request to turn over the information and preserve the data. However—and it is a big however—the data may still exist on the network, and if EMI are scummy enough to subpoena records from my ISP, they may well be able to hunt you people down like the undeserving animals they think you are. I would hope they have more sense.
EMI can take my little website away if they like, but six more will pop up in its place. I will see to it personally. They can tell me what and what not to make, but in so doing they are challenging me to outdo myself. They can sue me, but I will succeed in making a case for fair use. Copyright law in the United States is meant to protect extant material. The Beachles never existed before I created them. They are in no way intended as an explicit infringement of EMI’s copyright. I created this record as a work of satire. It is a semi-sadistic commentary on the dismal mash-up phenomenon, and a meager tribute to two of the greatest pop bands of the 20th century. And what’s wrong with that, really?
Also, I’m not going to spend too much longer on this, but there seem to be a few mewling crybabies who still don’t understand why this record sounds the way it does. Let me clear this up. Being out of tune and sloppy is the last thing one would expect from a Beatles and Beach Boys mash-up. Any sane human would expect it to be melodic and perfectly in time. We would expect it to be crafted meticulously, over the course of years, by Brian Eno and Ray Kurzweil in a secret underground laboratory. We would expect the very best of its creator.
Contradistinctively, the last thing we would expect is for it to be carelessly scrapped together by some hillbilly schmuck with a laptop, just like every other mash-up in existence. It is, simply, a playful demonstration of how well these songs complement one another, in spite of their many differences. If publicity was really what I wanted out of this, I would have made it infinitely more listenable, and doing so would’ve been just as easy. If you didn’t like the Beachles, I suggest that you listen to the Shaggs, who Frank Zappa once said were better than the Beatles. Get a bit of perspective. If you did enjoy yourself, however, I will gladly high-five you at my earliest convenience. Power to the people!
For those of you who still don’t understand, I’ll make it easy for you. I am the first to question the artistic legitimacy of this product. What it lacks in concordance and integrity, it more than makes up for in bad taste and impetuosity. Anyway, listen—I’m not gonna hold your hand through this. To anyone who didn’t enjoy this record: thank you for providing the punchline to an otherwise meaningless joke. You’re all winners in my book, though unfortunately there is no booby prize. Ciao!
Okay, here is the full C&D, just as it appeared in my inbox. For months now, the GYBO dorks have been insinuating that I never received one, and I feel like enough time’s gone by that I don’t really need to worry about posting it anymore. Normally I wouldn’t give in to such whimpering infants, but they deserve to be proven wrong, and then shot in the face. I’ve stitched it together from screen captures, but other than that it appears unedited. Click on the image below to enlarge it.