Datwon Thomas has tendered his resignation as XXL magazine Editor-In-Chief yesterday. While we’re at it, King magazine has tipped its crown and—alas—is no more. I didn’t blog about Kings’ downfall—or anything for that matter—when it was announced. But the latest turn of events speaks volumes to anyone who wishes to listen: Old-school media is a shrinking Island. The shores are disappearing and the tides are rising fast.

When I heard that Datwon stepped down, just a year after Elliott “YN” Wilson slammed the door, I realized the “urban” media institutions are crumbling around us and there is little one can do to stop the demolition.

Like any seismic shift, the falling didn’t begin this year. “Taps” started playing at least back as far as June 2006, but I was just too preoccupied to hear the horns. I wasn’t alone.

Back then, I was serving as Vibe magazine’s music editor when the publication was sold to the Wicks Group. The take-over came in the form of swift hatchet cuts that shredded the masthead into thirds—nixing the top-editors in one fell swoop. The new owners huddled us into the conference room. They gave the floor to Kenard Gibbs, the president of Vibe who, it turns out, was also caught the business end of the hatchet that day. He softened the blow for us all with a few well-placed words. In the end he gave a thoughtful, moist-y eyed speech, and exited the room to a hero’s standing ovation. It was bitter sweet.

Over the course of the next week, we were called in one at a time to discuss our severances (You’ll pay me to leave? Sweeet!). Those of us who were let go sighed the sigh of freedom. Those who were left behind were shell-shocked, doomed to ponder what side of the masthead the axe would fall upon next (and it did fall, again and again). Associate music editor Rondell Conway, deputy editor Jamie Katz and Lakeba Holler, assistant to the editor, helped me carry out my boxes of CDs and my collection of utterly ridiculous hats (I used to wear them in meetings for no good reason). We said our goodbyes, vowed to stay in touch (we did, for the most part) and I closed the chapter on Vibe, but I had no idea the book was ending on magazines altogether. At the very least, it was being re-written.

This wasn’t the first time I left a magazine job (a music editor one, at that. Another story for another time). But this time, I welcomed the new opportunities. I had already taped the first version of The Parker Report and posted it to Youtube. Aside from that project, I had great relationships with editors at XXL, The Source, and King magazines. I figured I would always be able to keep my byline and a check circulating in the print world.

Fast forward. In the time since I left Vibe, I have written for all of the above publications (and more) including KING’s final cover story. Who knew then, “The Illest Men’s Magazine Ever” would be no more.

King was a victim of an advertising pinch, not necessarily—as you booty hounds know—a faltering audience. Dennis S. Page, publisher of XXL and King confirmed this fact to targetmarketnews.com.

King reported an average circulation of 173,530 for the six months ending Dec. 31, down 11.3 percent from the year before. “Advertising, not circulation, was the problem,” Page said. “The publication’s revenue staples were automobile and alcohol ads.”

Page said XXL, as a music magazine, did not have the same problems and that there were “no concerns” about it folding.

This is good news in a catch 22 sort of way: It says that there is still an audience for King. Unfortunately, there are no advertisers to support the product. Therein, as they say, lies the rub.

Meanwhile, The Source and Vibe—while still making newsstands each month—are losing on both fronts. The audience is shrinking and the advertisers are looking the other way. In February, Vibe cut back its staff and hours in order to save money. A smart holding strategy, given that it will cut its rate base 25 percent in July, from 800K to 600K.

“We have to run our business, including circulation, more profitably and we have to be smart about it,” CEO Steve Aaron said in a statement. “Part of that is eliminating less profitable subscriptions while maintaining our significant circulation leadership in the urban lifestyle space.”

Thing is, the “urban” lifestyle space is still viable. But times are a changing. And the mighty brands like XXL, Vibe and The Source will survive the new media revolution but surely they won’t remain wholly in their present forms. Nor will we, the journalists who have displayed bylines in these mags, come out unchanged.

Chloe Hilliard, the spirited journalist who created journalisticks.com because, she tells me via email, “I felt mediabistro, gawker, and all the other ‘media sites’ did not address my needs or share my view as a journalist of color.”

Her site recently hosted an awesome tweet chat, in which new and seasoned journalists pondered the great questions of our time and answered them in 142 characters or less.

Chloe is an NYU grad and can get to finger wagging and neck swiveling when discussing the state of—gasp!—“urban” journalists (I say “urban” for lack of better word. Got any suggestions?)

Most recently Chloe was let go from The Village Voice, which has been making cuts for some time now. “I did not sense that I was going to be next,” she says. “From the time I was hired at The Voice I learned never to feel settled in. Folks were fired quite frequently. My Co-workers and I figured it out: They let go of someone once every 3 weeks.”

But don’t dare imply that Chloe was fired from her previous job as an editor at The Source.

“Let’s get this straight,” she says. “I quit my job at The Source in Feb 2007. I was burnt out and fed up. I worked so hard there and the majority of us did but it got to the point where it was beating a dead horse.“

Two years later and The Source is once again touting new management. Time will tell if it will creep back into the psyche of its former audience. Presently XXL has taken the first position in hip-hop publications. But if you examine the mastheads of all three publications, you’ll find a skeleton crew. Less than a handful of writers and editors are responsible for the brainpower of these storied institutions. Freelancers are getting less money per word, editors are being forced to do more writing, and “content” is stretched thin across all platforms.

In all this, we are all learning, feeling our way in the dark. Many new journalists at magazines will have to do so without the guidance of journalists who have seen the space evolve. Elliott’s and Datwon’s departures as well as Jermaine Hall’s cut from King—a magazine he helped make more smart than smut—signals a change in the landscape and perhaps a changing of the guards.

But what’s a magazine to do when facing budget cuts and a shrinking ad market?

Chloe has a few suggestions:

“The future of publications should be to reduce to bi-monthly or quarterly, making each issue a collectors item chock full of amazing features, outside the box packages and essays.”

I think Chloe has a good strategy, here. I also say go longer with stories, more in-depth. More analysis, investigative work. Either that, or hold your breath and wait for for the coming tsunami.

*If you were the editor in chief or your favorite magazine, what changes would you make?

**And is there a better way to say “urban journalist”? Do tell.

When Goodie Mob released “They Don’t Dance No Mo’” in 1998— it sounded as if they were simply imploring screw-faced wall flowers to bust a move. They were onto something about the lack of dancing in hip-hop, I thought.

It took me some time to realize that Goodie Mob wasn’t simply talking about the waning popularity of great hip-hop dances like the Wop, the Biz Mark, the Fila, and the Steve Martin. (Okay, maybe some of those dances weren’t so great.)

Big Gipp, Khujo, T-Mo and Cee-Lo weren’t really talking about stepping in the club at all. The song is thick in metaphor, admonishing gun-shooting in place of shooting the fair one (i.e. “dancing”). Despite the bouncy beat, the bare-knuckled message didn’t make you want to bust a move. A head nod, a bounce, a shake, yeah. But no big dancing.

Now, I’ve got nothing against dances or the rappers who create them. I’ve tried to crank that dang Soulja Boy a few times myself. Who can resist hopping on one leg and leaning to one side then the next for a happy-faced yuuuule? (We all know Lyfe can’t).

Plus, Souja’s latest Shoot Out dance–where partners point and shoot make believe guns at one another–is a clever remix of the Shot Gun dance groovy teens used to rock back when. In the video, Soulja Boy and crew shoot each other’s imaginary brains out and live to do it again…and again.

Harmless enough, I think. But my inner grump can’t help but connect these playful routines and all their 1, 2, 3, 4 steps, with a few line dances I refused to try like, say, the Cha Cha or Electric Slide. (Not even at weddings)

This brings us to the present episode of “The Parker Report,” in which we—Lyfe, Project Pat, TJ , Yung Berg and I—ask if there is too much of this stepping going on? While we poke fun at the multi-stepping dance demands of Soulja Boy and others, there is no doubt that it’s a better day when hip-hop kids can find joy in a simple dance step (or four).

After all, when the last record is played at the club, I’d rather see Soulja Boy Crank that dance than crank that gat. And 10 years later, I’m sure Big Gipp, Khujo, T-Mo and Cee-Lo would prefer Souja Boy’s “Shoot Out” dance to the real thing.

Even if all they do is this.

…Or this!

This is the first episode of “The Parker Report” for MTV Jams. It was a pain in the ass putting this thing together, too. We shot several panels, which will be airing on MTV Jams over the course of the next few weeks. If there is any debate that NYC has lost ground, it’s worth noting that I had to go to ATL to shoot the Dipset, who are from Harlem.

But hey, it was worth it. However pained the Dips appear when they have to sit still for any amount of time, these guys always entertain. I’m not talking about when they are in the studio pounding out records. But when the music is off and the mic is left on, them dudes captivate.

Back when I originally had Jim Jones on “The Parker Report” he broke from his disinterested demeanor to defend Oprah’s honor and to speak out against the war in Iraq.
“If Oprah wanna get me on the show, she gonna have the realest show that the world going to see,” he said on that episode. “Until I get that invitation, I’ll holler when I see her and I’ll blow a kiss at her.”

Jimmy has the whole rock star thing down cold. It’s like dude doesn’t recognize that there are different rules of etiquette for different settings. When he sat down for TPR back then, he splayed his phone, blunts and lighter out on the table, slumped in his seat, and shifted back and forth without making much eye contact.

At the same time, he always says something to keep people talking. It’s as if he likes the attention but doesn’t want you to know he’s enjoying himself—that’s the effortless mantra of the “rock stars.”

For this go-round with the Dipset, we shot a few subjects. All classic material. Though he’s silent in this first episode, Freaky Zeeky even shares a word or two—something about Jordan and the Wizards and retiring rappers. Without giving away too much (Comcast heads can check it on On Demand in a few weeks), Jigga seems to figure prominently into the Dips’ points.

Then there is this time—within the well-worn discussion of NYC rap—with the hilarious tag-team at the end.

Jim: “Most of these rappers is so much of a facade / they wait until they deal to get they first charge”

Juelz: “It’s like New York’s been soft since Jay fell off”

If you look really closely, you can almost see Jim Jones’ lips mouthing the words to Juelz’s line. It’s like he knew it was coming. If I didn’t know better—and I don’t—I’d think they rehearsed the whole thing.

Either way, it’s no less entertaining if they did. They’re still pulling of the image of reluctant talk show guests, and New York rap is still what it is—whatever that is.

Obviously, this type of programming doesn’t lead to real answers but allows for a few questions to be raised. Each episode you’ll see a panel or rappers and industry folks creating a new “Hip-Hop Law” to live by. Sometimes the topics will be based on serious issues, other times the discussions will be strictly for entertainment purposes. And then there are talks like the one above where both can be accomplished with little or no effort at all—apparently that’s the Dipset way.

I bet Lupe Fiasco thought he was making some hip Down Town anti-establishment statement by throwing his worthless and uninformed endorsement behind Hillary Clinton before the Iowa caucuses. And now, look who has joined him in shameless form—BET billionaire, Bob Johnson.

Being from Chi-Town, folks might have assumed—wrongly—that Lupe would be stumping for the Illinois Senator. But no. Here’s what Lupe told Danica Dow, of SOHH.com:

“I don’t believe in voting on that level. But I want Hillary to win,” he said. “Obama doesn’t really impress me like that. It’s not a shot at him but some of his agendas, the bombing of Iran and all that stuff. He ain’t gonna do nothing but perpetuate the nonsense that all the Presidents before have done, and what Bush is doing now.”

Never mind the fact that none of the Democratic candidates—including Obama—have said they supported “the bombing of Iran” as part of any agenda, no “thinking man’s” rapper should be so blatantly and arrogantly ignorant. But Mr. Fiasco is an otherwise talented young thinker who was simply playing the part of contrarian for “cool” points. Despite the Iran “bombing” misinformation and the hometown endorsement of his political foe, Barack beat Hillary in Iowa. No harm, no foul. And I’m sure he has learned from this gaff and will think better of his pseudo endorsements in the future.

Mr. Johnson, on the other hand, ought to know better. In his latest blacks-be-damned move, Bob played campaign hit man for Hillary, performing an ugly act that amounts to the political equivalent of black on black crime.

This comes just as Clinton is being criticized by many blacks for her take on President Lyndon Johnson’s role in the Civil Rights movement. She was trying to make the point that it takes a leader like LBJ (here, played by Hillary) to enact the vision set forth by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King (here played by Obama?). To be sure, LBJ was a valid–if reluctant–partner in the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Still, a twisted analogy in the context of this race.

But that silly debate laid the backdrop to Bob Johnson’s entrée. He was seen on the stage in South Carolina with those puffy eyes and that self-hating swagger. “I am frankly insulted,” BET Bob said, “that the Obama campaign would imply that we are so stupid that we would think Hillary and Bill Clinton, who have been deeply and emotionally involved in black issues since Barack Obama was doing something in the neighborhood –and I won’t say what he was doing, but he said it in the book.”

Okay, if you haven’t heard by now, Obama has admitted to experimenting with drugs as a youngster in his Memoir “Dreams of My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance,” which was published in 1995. In the book he outlines his search for identity and his journey to connect with the life of a father he never really knew. Along the way he talks of his days as a community activists in Chicago, his time in Harvard, and his earlier partying days.

It’s no “gotcha” moment, for sure, more innocent than Bill Clinton’s “I didn’t inhale” controversy. For Bob Johnson to bring this up as if it should be part of the political discussion and for Bob to imply that Barack is highlighting race is blatantly timed near the upcoming South Carolina primaries where Clinton’s standing is sagging.

You’d think Bob wouldn’t care to traffic in race after cashing in on BET to the tune of $3 Billion. When called on his obvious Obama drug use allusion, Bob released a statement that said this:

“My comments today were referring to Barack Obama’s time spent as a community organizer, and nothing else. Any other suggestion is simply irresponsible and incorrect.” [Bloggers note: It is worth noting that he is lying here]

What Hillary doesn’t understand is that Bob Johnson has as much political capitol among black folks as Clarence Thomas, Stanley Crouch or Alan Keys—the other black Presidential candidate in the race. Any African-American voter knows that if Bob Johnson is for you, you can’t be for the blacks. She would have done better to trot out Lupe Fiasco to come to her defense. At least he would have had some appeal among black people.

But sending out any black minion to do her bidding was a sly tactical move. For a woman, Senator Clinton is doing a fine job of acting like “The Man.”

Is Bill Clinton losing his blackness? Are African-Americans falling out of love with a guy who was once dubbed “the first black president?” As his wife remains locked in a stiff competition with the man who may become the real first black president, is Mr. Clinton risking all his sax-playing, Arsenio-chatting, Kemba-pardoning good will among black folks by attempting to stamp out Barack Obama at every turn?

It was bound to happen. A showdown between the down-ass white guy and the half white candidate who’s had his blackness questioned by white pollsters early on. Perhaps Bill Clinton picked up on this wedge and saw an opening.

He first eased into “Operation Break Obama” as a guest on The Charlie Rose show where he implied that a vote for Obama was a gamble, as the great black candidate is only a mere symbol of change as opposed to an agent of change, which is what his wife Hillary represents.

Then Clinton went on a tirade after his wife’s loss in Iowa. Clinton questioned Obama’s position as an early anti-war figure, calling the whole thing “the biggest fairy tale I’ve ever seen.” Then he speaks on Obama as, of all things, a hard-nosed and dirty politician.
See below:

Like many blacks, I grew up looking to Bill Clinton as a President who understood many of the issues in need of repair in the black community. In his autobiography, “My Life,” he talks about his relationship with the poor blacks who would come into his grandfather’s grocery store. And how his mother explained to him that the worst beating she ever received was when she was three or four and her mother heard her call some black woman a “Nigger.” And as president, he palled around with Vernon Jordan, who onces headed the urban League. You just get the feeling that Ol’ Bill appreciates the richness of African-American culture.

His post-presidency was going so smoothly with his war on AIDS and the strides he’s made in Africa. These things let people know that he really does feel your pain.

But lately, Mr. Clinton has come down with political vitaligo, renouncing his “ghetto pass” with each attack on Barack. Hillary’s presidential run is pulling him to the other side of the stage, where the weather is cold and his face is red. (You had to see him standing behind his defeated wife in Iowa with a forced smile and beet red face).

With a victory in Iowa, which is over 90 percent white, Obama has proven he’s white enough for America. In New Hampshire, Sen. Clinton edged out Sen. Obama with 39 percent of the vote to Barack’s 37 percent. But with South Carolina’s primaries coming up on January 26, the voters there will help us understand if Barack Obama is black enough or if the “first black president” has already served in the White House.

Either way, many questions remain: Will Bill Clinton reapply his black face and pull out his down home charm to win over the African-American leaning state? Or will he smile a red-faced smile and continue on as the Clinton who doesn’t feel your pain, but is prepared to cause it for the possibility of another term in the white house?

Despite what they’d have you believe, Kanye West and 50 Cent (and Osama Bin Laden) aren’t the only shows in town on 9-11. What about country boy Kenny Chesney, for example? I posed that question to 50 Cent recently, and he got his tight manzier-styled wife-beater bent all out of shape.

“Listen,” he barked. “Do you listen to Country music!?”

“No,” I said.

“Nether do I. So why are we talking about him,” he snapped. “Chesney sees an opportunity to make himself popular by putting himself in the race.” He sighed. “It’s marketing, dayum!”

You don’t say, Mr. 50? And since when did the king of marketing begrudge a fellow opportunist seeking a little bump in sales the right to exploit a situation. Beyond that, why should inflated heads like 50 and Kanye (and Osama) get all the 9-11 attention? Why shouldn’t we expand the pool and include some left-out hawkers of discs on this national day of mourning? If Kanye and 50 are like Ali-Foreman, then why not have some warm-up matches to keep it interesting and to, at least, give some ring-time to the lightweights?

But this “SoundScan Showdown” lead-up was so successful, the two discs blanketed every other release on that day and beyond. And it was all good, mostly because it was an original idea and appropriate for the magnitude of artists involved.

It could possibly work once again, like say with Ludacris and T.I. The two rappers have been at each other for years now, the latest being a dispute over the Grammy for Rap Album of The Year, which went to Luda, and emboldened T.I.’s contempt for his ATL counterpart (see Luda’s “I Get Money” diss remix below”). So, eh, I can see the people deciding in a 50/Kanye Scan-off.

While a T.I.-Luda showdown sounds enticing, the problem with all this hoopla is that other, less significant, rappers and their handlers will eventually insert their releases into this nifty new formula. If we’re not careful, it’ll become the next bullet-scar promotion made trendy by 50’s 9-shots story won him the adoration of the public. So, before some record company dimwit gets the bright idea to make this SoundScan face-off a part of the usual marketing plan, we might as well start getting used to it.

For example, if you’re like me, you’ve probably totally overlooked good ol’ 40 Cal’s release. Okay, so he’s not Cam’Ron, Jim Jones, or Juelz Santana, but dude is still Dipset, dammit, and he’s got Chickens in the coop (see video below). And yes, his album comes out right alongside Kanye’s and 50’s (well, stacked somewhere near them, in a choice number of locations).

Yet, he can be found on no pages of Rolling Stone, his disc is absent from discussions of 9-11 album releases, and it’s missing from any of the betting sites—no odds offered.

So, if you’re thinking like a record company marketer, here’s an idea: 40 Cal will face-off against B5, P. Diddy’s Goya-flavored Jackson Five impersonators, who will also be coming out today. Sure, the odds are in favor of the Bad Boy R&B creampuffs, but at least there are some odds there.

Likewise, Krayzie Bone, of the multi-platinum Bone Thugs N Harmony, and Young Bleed, from No Limit fame, both have discs that are being largely ignored this day. Exhibition match, anyone?

So back to Kenny Chesney. Since 50 edged him out of the competition, Chesney will have to pick on someone his own size (and music style, perhaps). While he figures that out, we’ll surely see another rap sales battle come along. When it does, let us hope it’s more like Luda and T.I. than Krayzie and 40 Cal.

Either way, it will happen. Like 50 said, “It’s marketing, dayum!”

George W. Bush didn’t knock down the towers. (See Proof below)

Nas and Jay-Z didn’t plan their battle behind doors all cloak and dagger-like. And it’s about time you realize that Kanye West and 50 Cent didn’t come together and cook up some hairbrain scheme to sell more records.

On second thought, scratch that last one…This just in:

But the point you conspiracy kooks should know is that Bin Laden is real. Mos Def recently sat up in front of perfectly rational white folk and proclaimed Osama “the boogie man.” When Jadakiss asked why George Bush knocked down the buildings in “Why,” we all knew he was just reciting something his crazy uncle told him at the family barbecue. What we didn’t know was that the uncle was Mos Def. Even Uncle Ruckus, the self-hating white skin-worshiping character on The Boondocks would say that accusing Bush and company of concocting an Osama gives too much credit to this president.

On Reel Time with Bill Maher, alongside Dr. Cornell West, Mos showed off his comedic chops. Not only is Mos the best actor of the hip-hop generation, he’s funnier than a mug. But, really Mos, gotta tighten up your conspiracy game.

I know what you conspiracy types are saying: What proof do I have that Osama did indeed blow up TWC? How do we know that Dick Cheney and Karl Rove didn’t manufacture this character in order to make those bullshit orange alerts seem more credible? You think it’s peculiar that you never see Dick Cheney in the same place as Osama. For all I know, you say, Dick Cheney takes off his fat suit and puts on a grizzly (or vitality black) beard and begins wagging his finger at the Amercan cameras in some hidden cave at his hunting grounds.

Well, here’s proof, silly kids. We’ve uncovered some outtakes of the recent Osama Bin Laden tapes. If this doesn’t hush all your Niglet rap paranoia with government goings on, nothing will.

Hold the presses. Kanye West and 50 Cent (and country singer Kenny Chesney) aren’t the only ones planning to release their big hits on September 11. Osama Bin Laden, the man who made the date infamous, plans to drop his latest tape in time to remind Americans that “Curtis” and “Graduation” are but minor distractions to his war on terror.

It’s not like we’re not all affected by the actions of Osama and George W. Bush. When Jim Jones visited The Parker Report, he revealed how his family felt the effects of the Anti-Osama war in Iraq (that has little to do with Osama, I must add). “My step brother’s leg got blown off in the Iraq war,” Jones said. “They blew up the truck he was driving…You don’t think of the war until it hits home, then at the same time there’s a war going on in the streets right here.” [Check Jim out here]

This ain’t the first time Mr. Bin Laden challenged one of hip-hop’s major releases. When Jay-Z dropped “The Blueprint” on September 11, 2001, I was music editor of The Source. Weeks earlier, the staff unanimously agreed to give the album a 5-mic salute. Nas was on the ropes, plotting a comeback that would give new meaning to the word ether. Hip-hop was all abuzz about the biggest rap battle since Big and Pac. And what did Osama do? He devised a plan to overshadow one of rap’s classic releases. Leave it up to ol’ playa hatin’ Osama to hijack hip-hop’s big day. Can’t see that happening this time with Team Ye and Team Fif on the case.

Next week General David Petraeus will be giving his assessment of the latest troop surge to congress. Democrats and Republicans will squabble about how many troops will remain in Iraq fighting a war that has no real connection to Osama or 9-11. And Osama will be all over the news calling for death to the infidels (especialy rappers making it rain on his 9-11 parade).

Meanwhile, there are wars going on in the streets right here.

I admit, I half-way rolled my eyes through the whole T.I. vs T.I.P. marketing campaign, mostly due to “T.I.P” overkill. A little too much theater to witness Mr. Harris smiling like T.I. one moment and then scowling as T.I.P. the next. But looking back, I now recognize the genius in the strategy. As he (the label/management) did with T.I.’s proclamations of Southern King on “King,” T.I. was able to control the conversation surrounding this project. And in marketing, that’s difficult to pull off.

Otherwise probing journalists didn’t get a chance to frame dude as a hothead rapper, or peg him as an overly confident MC. The label created such a curious—if not ludicrous—storyline, it was almost too inviting not to explore further. Even when T.I. acted out at the Kevin Liles Luncheon, attacking Luda’s mild-mannered manager Shaka Zulu, it all played into T.I.P.’s realm, keeping T.I. clean as a whistle while blurring reality and theater that much more.

It’s no “War On Terror” or “Operation Iraqi Freedom,” I must add, but as far as rap campaigns go, “T.I. vs. T.I.P." wins The Hip-Hop Karl Rove Award for the year.

Still, after selling 460,000 records in one week, T.I., T.I.P or Clifford Harris can’t save Atlantic Records, Warner Music Group, or Chairman Edgar Bronfman, Jr. from the steady downward spiral that the record biz has taken. Can you really compete with free music? Bronfman seems to think so in this clip.

It’s hard to imagine that things have gotten so bad that we may one day see Beyonce Knowles on Koch, as her attorney Ken Hurtz says, below. (Kelly Rowland, on the other hand…)

Layoffs, firings, restructurings are but band aids across the chest of a cardiac arrest patient. Bronfman, who traded the long dollars his father made from Seagrams liquor for the dwindling music money, bought Warner Music for 2.3 billion in 2003. In this report, Bronfman is straightforward and thoughtful in his answers. He seemed sincere about acknowledging the problems he and the industry faces. However…

…What’s all this talk of racing to the bottom as being a good thing? As Bill O Reilly would say, “The spin stops here, sir.”

It’s true that record companies are moving closer to the bottom every day. But when those huge record companies reach the bottom, it may have already fallen out. No one who has to answer to angry old-monied stock holders wants to see any parts of the bottom.

Wait. Rewind, er, scroll up. Did I just quote Bill O Reilly? On second thought, Mr. Bronfman, spin it any way you like. After all, a little spin worked plenty well for T.I. and T.I.P.

ps. (See you Syd, Latrice, G, and the rest of the Atlanticians)