iTunes Fraud Story in Wall Street Journal

Ben Worthen and Yukari Iwantani Kane highlight the problems iTunes users have experienced after having their accounts compromised in The Wall Street Journal's lead Tech story today.

Ben interviewed me for the story and I am quoted near the end. I talked to Ben several times as he was preparing the article and was very impressed by his intelligence and thoroughness.

You can read about my frustrating iTunes experience here.

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers - Mojo (Play It Loud)

I recently picked up Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers' new album Mojo on LP. I was curious to see that unlike the Mudcrutch album and most of the other recent Warner Bros. LPs I have bought, Mojo did not come with a bonus CD. Instead it had a coupon for a free download.

What's that you say? "How dare Tom Petty only offer a crummy, lossy compressed MP3 download instead of a 'full resolution' CD?"

Not so fast there mister.

Yes, you can download lossy compressed (and dynamically compressed) 320kps MP3s, but Warners also gives you the option of downloading the album in the Apple Lossless (ALAC) format, and this gives you resolution that is identical to the commercially released CD.

Okay, I hear you now. "Oh great, so I can get the album in CD resolution, but it will still be dynamically compressed just like the commercial CD."

Just a second there Mr. Complainy Pants, I wasn't finished.

While the ALAC version is the same as the dynamically compressed CD, Warners has also made a 24 bit/48 kHz FLAC download available. The FLAC version not only features a higher bit and sampling rate than is possible with CD, it also contains the dynamically uncompressed master that was used to cut the LP (and the BluRay release). In effect, Tom Petty and Warner Bros. are allowing you to download the original album master so you can hear the music just the way the band did in the studio.

"Well that's all fine and well," you say "but why didn't they give us a higher resolution version recorded at 96 or 192 kHz?"

Okay, I have to say, you are really starting to get on my nerves, but the answer to your question is that the album was recorded (totally live in the studio) at 24 bit/48 kHz, so this is the highest resolution available (and it sounds amazing by the way).

I was able to download all three versions of the album (MP3, ALAC & FLAC). I compared the LP to the 24/48 digital files, and they sounded pretty near identical to my ears. I guess that means that my turntable is doing its job pretty well, since the LP was cut from those files. I listened to the MP3 version in my car, and it sounded very good in that environment. While the CD and MP3 versions have been dynamically compressed compared to the LP, BluRay and FLAC files, it should be pointed out that even in that state Mojo still has a large amount of dynamic range relative to other contemporary rock releases.

Of course sound quality wouldn't matter in the least if the album didn't deliver the goods musically, so the really good news is that the music on Mojo is terrific. Petty seems to have been energized by the Mudcrutch reunion, and Mojo was recorded completely live in the studio just as Mudcrutch's "debut" was. The songs lean heavily on the blues, and one track sounds just like prime Led Zeppelin (albeit with Petty, not Plant on vocals). I don't want to give a blow-by-blow account of the album, so suffice to say if you are a fan of Tom Petty, I doubt Mojo will disappoint you. If you are not a fan of Tom Petty, Mojo probably won't be the album to win you over either (for that, go pick up Wildflowers).

Once again, Tom Petty has put together a really nice LP package that shows that he is one of the few contemporary recording artists who both really cares about sound quality and has the clout to deliver great sounding recordings to his fans. So do I have any complaints? Just one. I wish Warner had made the hi-rez, uncompressed FLAC files available to those who purchase the CD as well so they can hear what they are missing out on.

Public Image Ltd. "album"

I've updated Public Image Ltd.'s 1986 album artwork especially for your iPod or other portable player. This seems appropriate since the collection of songs known as "album" on LP, "cassette" on cassette, or "compact disc" on CD is currently available as an mp3 download, but appears to be out-of-print on CD. Rhino recently reissued album on LP and did quite a nice job of it to my ears. Elektra's vinyl tended to be quite noisy toward the end of the LP era, so it is good to finally have a really nice sounding copy of this on LP.

I think this is the only album I own that features Steve Vai on guitar, and I still find it really weird that Lydon played with Ginger Baker, considering that in 1981 NME published an "April fool" announcement that Baker had joined PiL. Despite the strange (one could argue inappropriate) cast of musicians producer Bill Laswell chose to surround Lydon, album holds up. No, it's not as adventurous as Metal Box or Flowers Of Romance, but it is a strong set of songs and nice time capsule of the sound of "alternative rock" circa 1986.

Of course it's well known that John Lydon nicked the concept of a "generic" album from Flipper, whose 1982 debut was called Generic Flipper (or possibly Album or Album Generic Flipper).


Anyway, while Flipper obviously did it first, it should be pointed out that from a design and conceptual standpoint, Lydon did it better. And Flipper did get some measure of revenge by titling a later release Public Flipper Ltd.

iTunes Update

For those of you following my iTunes saga, as of yesterday I was able to log into my iTunes account successfully. I'm not sure why I was suddenly able to log in again, considering that on June 14th iTunes and Apple's help site were still telling me that my user ID did not exist. I had unsuccessfully attempted to log in as recently as June 14th in order to refresh my memory in advance of a conversation with a reporter about my problems with iTunes. I've gotten a couple press inquiries on the subject, and I'll keep you posted if anything comes of them.

I have no clue as to why I was able to access my account again after a month of being unable to do so. I didn't do anything differently than during past attempts. I can see my transaction history again, and all the unauthorized transactions are still listed. I took the opportunity to take screen shots and compile them into a single list, so I have them for my records in case something happens to my account again.

Looking at the transaction details for the unauthorized transactions there is a weird mix of Christian themed purchases (Veggie Tales, an app called "Bible Shaker") and semi-pornographic purchases (an app called "Phone Sex Girls 2.0", etc.). The only logical conclusion I can draw from this is that my iTunes account must have been hacked by Prince.

AMG Parties Like It's 1992

All Music Guide continues it's ongoing "AMG Loves..." series with a tribute to 1992.

I remember this as a really good time for new music. Nirvana had broken through to the mainstream, and there was a sense that it might be possible for musicians to make a living creating something other than pre-programed pop music. There was a real sense of optimism as many talented and interesting bands got snapped up by major labels looking for the "next Nirvana." I graduated from college in 1991, so while I was not as deeply involved in the new music scene as I had been, I was still pretty tuned into what was going on. Being slightly more removed from the industry side of things also allowed me to feel like more of a "fan" than I was able to while serving as Music Director at my college radio station.

I also felt some sense of personal gratification at seeing the kind of music that I had been championing for the last 4 years breakthrough commercially. I had long maintained that much of the music being made within the "alternative" or "college rock" milieu could prove popular if given a chance, and Nirvana's success seemed to justify that belief. I remember making a trip back to my college in '92 and hearing Nirvana blasting from the windows of a frat house, while only a year early many frat boys had been mocking the radio station for playing the same kind of music. Unfortunately, the window that Nirvana opened for other interesting bands to climb through shut rather quickly, or proved to be something of an illusion in the first place, but that is another story.

1992 was a difficult transition period for me personally. I was a sanctimonious, vegetarian, recent liberal arts grad who had moved back in with his parents during an economic recession. I was dealing with some really serious issues at the time like what the heck was I going to do with a B.A. in Philosophy, and the fact that my mother was constantly trying to sneak meat into my meals. I was working at an entry-level, auto insurance claims adjusting job after having done cool stuff in college that actually involved a lot of responsibility. I was thinking seriously about grad school. I spent a lot of time with some of my old High School buddies holding Arch Hall, Jr. film marathons in our parents' basements. I wasn't sleeping or eating much, and was probably clinically depressed. I was a walking, talking cliché, and yet I probably thought I was unique. Still, I don't remember it as an altogether bleak period. The music probably helped.

I think the single album that I most closely identify with this period in my life would have to be Luna's debut album Lunapark. Galaxie 500's breakup was still big news when this album by Dean Wareham's new group featuring former members of The Feelies and The Chills appeared. Something about the melancholic, yet forward looking and hopeful vibe of the album struck a deep chord with me at the time. "Soho has the boots, Noho's got the crack, New England has the foliage, but I'm not going back." Like Dean Wareham, I'd soon be leaving behind past associations and relationships, and by January of 1993 I'd be living in Noho myself (although I was there for grad school, not the crack). Some of Luna's subsequent albums might have been better than Lunapark, but none hold as special a place in my heart.

Some of my other favorite albums from 1992 include the debut effort by Dean Wareham's old Galaxie 500 bandmates, Damon & Naomi's More Sad Hits, as well as Barbara Manning's One Perfect Green Blanket, Unrest's Imperial Ffrr, The Jayhawks' Hollywood Town Hall, Kendra Smith's The Guild of Temporal Adventurers, Pavement's Slanted & Enchanted, Sugar's Cooper Blue, The Beastie Boys' Check Your Head, Stereolab's Switched On and Peng!, Uncle Tupelo's March 16-20 1992, Throwing Muses' Red Heaven, Mudhoney's Piece Of Cake, Lush's Spooky, The Flaming Lips' Hit To Death In The Future Head, The Chills' Soft Bomb, Nirvana's Incesticide, Prince's unnamed symbol album, P.J. Harvey's Dry, Digital Underground's Sons Of The P, The Afghan Whigs' Congregation, Neneh Cherry's Homebrew, Jonathan Richman's I, Jonathan, Sonic Youth's Dirty, Velocity Girl's self-titled EP, The Cowboy Junkies' Black Eyed Man, King Missile's Happy Hour, Sebadoh's Smash Your Head Against The Punk Rock, Neil Young's Harvest Moon, Yo La Tengo's May I Sing With Me, The Wedding Present's Hit Parade Vols. I & II, Beat Happening's You Turn Me On, Giant Sand's Center Of The Universe, Heavenly's Le Jardin de Heavenly, Eugenius' Oomalama, Bettie Serveert's Palomine, The Headcoatees' Have Love Will Travel, Tom Waits' Bone Machine, as well as the influential dream pop compilation ...One Last Kiss. That's a lot of albums, but I'm sure there are others I'm forgetting.

I had thought about posting a couple of the more obscure tracks from 1992, but as more music becomes available for download through other channels I see little point. (This is a big part of the reason I've mostly stopped posting music here). If you're in the mood for a giggle, go to Amazon and download The Headcoatees' "My Boyfriend Is Learning Karate."

So where were you in '92, and what were you listening to?

Follow up thoughts on the iTunes post

I wanted to follow up briefly on my original post regarding my recent problems with the iTunes store, in part because some readers left comments that made interesting points that I thought I should address. Also, reading the comments has pushed me to think a little bit more about some of the issues involved in an incident like this.

Some readers suggested that buying music from a local independent retailer is a better alternative to buying music from iTunes. I totally agree. In fact, I buy the vast majority of my music from my local indie retailer, In Your Ear in Warren, RI. The owner is a friend of mine and I know he considers me a valuable customer. I have bought very little music from iTunes over the years, and what I have bought is mostly stray tracks, and a couple "iTunes exclusives" from bands I like. By far, my preferred method is to keep things local, and I have long been an advocate for that. (My car even sports a "Support Your Local Record Store" bumper sticker.) That said, I can’t agree with the perspective that says anyone who buys from iTunes deserves to get screwed.

I also don't see it as my business to tell anyone to not shop at iTunes if they want to, which is why I only went so far as to recommend funding with a pre-paid card for safety reasons. I'm not going to tell people not to buy from iTunes because I had a bad experience with them.

One poster suggested that it is unfair to expect Apple to "know" I wouldn't want to buy a particular release because a big electronic store like iTunes is totally different than a store run by person with cognitive abilities. This is a fair point. The reason I framed the incident in the way I did was to point out the differences between retailers that you have a personal relationship with, and e-tailers that create a kind of simulated personal shopping experience. Would it be unreasonable to expect Apple's iTunes store to be "smart" enough to automagically recognize when someone attempts to purchase something unusual on my account? In isolation, yes. But when a pattern of purchasing emerges that is totally out of character with my previous purchasing patterns (as was clearly the case here), Apple could easily detect that if they cared to.

My credit card issuer caught the fraudulent activity not because they pay a bunch of humans to sit around and study transaction sheets for suspicious activity, but because they employ sophisticated algorithms that can detect patterns that are out of the ordinary. Fraud detection algorithms are much more sophisticated than I think many realize, and they are nothing new. Banks and credit card issuers have been using them since the 80s. I am honestly a little surprised that Apple doesn't have some similar system in place for iTunes.

That said, no algorithm can detect fraud 100% of the time. Even the very best algorithms will miss something or generate a false positive on occasion. But what this experience suggested to me is that Apple has no fraud detection algorithms in place for its iTunes store whatsoever. If they did, the algorithm would certainly have picked up on the suspicious purchasing pattern that started with a single $1 purchase, then quickly escalated to numerous more expensive transactions.

Should we expect an online store like Apple iTunes to have robust fraud protection? I'll leave that for others to decide. The question here to mind is what do we get in return for all the information that we share with Apple? Because, believe me, Apple benefits from the information we give them about ourselves. In the case of iTunes we get recommendations for things to buy and the ability to create Genius playlists. What we don't get is even the weakest form of fraud protection. For some that will be a fair trade, for others not.

For me, all of this raises another issue, which is: How many of your digital eggs do you want to put in one basket? This is going to be an increasingly relevant question with the proliferation of devices like the iPad.

Currently, I use an iPod to listen to music on the go and LPs and CDs to listen to music at home. I use DVD, Blu-Ray and Netflix streaming service to watch movies. I get my phone and internet service through Cox. My cell phone service is through T-Mobile. My GPS system is a Garmin. My books are all still made of paper. There is an undeniable appeal to the idea of being able to combine all these functions (and more) into a single device or closely related family of devices. Certainly this is the kind of integrated system that Apple is hoping we will soon find impossible to live without.

But there is an obvious value to keeping these things separate that I think is perhaps under-discussed. If something goes wrong with my Garmin, I can always fall back on Google Maps to get directions. If my iPod breaks, I can still listen to LPs at home and CDs in the car. If I have a billing dispute with T-Mobile, I can still make phone calls from home, etc. There is a certain level of redundancy to a patchwork system of devices that helps us avoid catastrophic failures.

But what happens as we move toward a model in which all of these functions are integrated into a single device or family of devices linked to a single corporate entity? It's clear to me that is currently the direction we are headed, but I don't know that the implications of this move have been explored as thoroughly as they should be. What privacy issues will be involved? Will you actually own anything on the device, or only be allowed to use it at someone else's discretion? What happens if you decide you want to switch to a competing device/service? What happens when there is a billing dispute? Will there be sufficient government oversight and regulation to prevent monopolistic behavior? Is the convenience gained worth the risk of losing access to everything at once?

I don't necessarily have answers to these questions. But perhaps it would be wise for consumers to think a bit about them before making the leap into this new paradigm.

Galarraga

On any other day the retirement of first-ballot Hall-Of-Famer Ken Griffey Jr. would be the top story in baseball, but not today. Check out blown call that denied Detroit Tigers pitcher Armando Galarraga a perfect game.



It's 2010 and it is long past time for baseball to institute some sort of automatic replay. This kind of thing is just embarrassing for the sport. I know many feel the games drag on too long already, but there are a million ways to institute replays that would not add significantly to game times. For example, each manager could be given two challenges per game and the automatic ability to challenge any play that would end a game.

Of course, any future rule changes will do nothing for Galarraga, who was unfairly denied one of the rarest accomplishments in baseball (there have only been 21 perfect games in MLB history although, strangely, this would have been the third perfect game pitched this season).

With so many displays of boorish behavior from athletes, I think it is worth singling Galarraga out for praise for his reaction to this blown call. It would have been entirely understandable if he had blown his top, but he stayed remarkably calm and professional. If he can't (officially) be remembered for pitching a perfect game, he can at least be honored for behaving in a manner that would make any mother proud.

The Jayhawks (aka The Bunkhouse Album) Finally Reissued

Lost Highway recently reissued the Jayhawks long-lost, self-titled debut on CD, LP and as a digital download. This marks the first time the album has been available in any form since its initial release on Bunkhouse Records in 1986 as a 2,000 copy limited-edition LP.

I hadn't heard anything about the reissue, but spotted the LP for a mere $10.99 in the new arrivals bin at my local record shop and picked it up. Honestly, I wasn't overly excited by the find and the record sat in my "to be vacuumed" pile for a week or so after purchase (yes, I even vacuum clean my new LPs). Why wasn't I excited to finally hear this lost-classic that is highly regarded among Jayhawks fans? I guess mostly because I wasn't aware that it was a lost-classic that is highly regarded among Jayhawks fans.

I first became aware of the Jayhawks in 1989 when I was serving as music director of my college radio station and Twin/Tone sent a preview copy of The Blue Earth. It's fair to say I liked the album. I immediately put it into heavy rotation and regularly played a few of the tracks on my own radio program ("Two Angels," "Five Cups Of Coffee," and "The Baltimore Sun" definitely caught my ear at the time). I liked the album enough to buy a copy for myself, but not enough to buy it again when Restless reissued it with bonus tracks several years later. And I didn't like it near as much as the albums the band released later on Rick Rubin's American imprint both with and without Mark Olson.

Despite some excellent songwriting, I found the consistently slow tempos dragged the album down, and some of the songwriting struck me as indistinct and too beholden to the band's obvious Gram Parsons influence. For me, The Blue Earth remains an embryonic version of the kind of music The Jayhawks would do with far more confidence and individuality in later years, and I assumed The Bunkhouse Album--recorded a full three years before the Twin/Tone release--would sound like an even more embryonic version of that. Also, let's face it, when a limited-edition first album by a band that eventually gains a sizable following like the Jayhawks stays out-of-print for nearly a quarter century, it's usually because the band has good reason to leave it collecting cobwebs in the attic. For all these reasons I had relatively low expectations for The Jayhawks. I assumed the album would be a curiosity worth a listen or two and little more.

All of which is to say that I was not prepared for the energy that comes pulsating out of the grooves of The Jayhawks' feisty debut record. Mark Olson's songwriting is already surprisingly sharp; highly tuneful county-tinged rockers like "Falling Star," "Let The Last Night Be The Longest," "People In This Place On Every Side," and "Let The Critics Wonder" quickly found their way into my head and stayed there. There are a few places where Olson succumbs to easy country cliches ("The Liquor Store Came First") and some tracks sound like filler ("Cherry Pie"), but these tracks never slow things down enough to blunt the album's overall impact. Olson and Louris had already found a comfortable way to harmonize, although at this point Olson is clearly the group's leader (a fact reinforced by the cover photo that depicts Olson standing in front of the rest of the band lounging on a porch behind him) with Louris confined to the role of guitar picker and back-up singer. The production is predictably rough, but it never gets in the way of the music either.

What struck me the most however, is the fact that Gary Louris' guitar playing positively rips, and drummer Norm Rogers (later of The Cows) keeps things moving along at the kind of peppy pace that is altogether absent from the more contemplative The Blue Earth. To my ears, The Jayhawks has more in common with an album like The Long Ryders' raucous Native Sons than it does with the overly-mannered Blue Earth, and I regard that as a very good thing. If I had been one of the lucky 2,000 to hear this album when it was released in 1986, I probably would have become a big fan of the Jayhawks sooner than ended up being the case.

I admit that this is still a somewhat embryonic effort, and The Jayhawks would find a better balance between fast and slow tempos on Hollywood Town Hall and Tomorrow The Green Grass. Also, both Olson and particularly Louris' songwriting would mature in the passage of time, and Rick Rubin at American would spend a lot more money recording their albums than their then manager Charlie Pine could muster at Bunkhouse Records (a label he founded specifically to release this album). Nevertheless, The Jayhawks (aka The Bunkhouse Album) is a very promising debut album from a great band that can also proudly stand on its own merits twenty-four years after its initial release.

Update: No Depression is running a contest to win a signed copy of the LP and CD. You must be a registered No Depression user and leave a comment listing your five favorite Jayhawks songs in order to enter.

Gamera: The Giant Monster on Shout Factory

My last couple of posts have been kinda complaint oriented, so I wanted to single something out for praise before this blog turns into the internet equivalent of the old man in the park who yells at the pigeons.

Yesterday I picked up the recently released Shout Factory DVD, Gamera: The Giant Monster, and was really impressed with the thought and care that went into the packaging. The DVD comes with a nice 10 page booklet that includes a written reminiscence from the late director of the series, Noriaki Yuasa, as well as helpful character biographies and lots of promo pictures.

The DVD is packaged in a standard DVD shell that is made of clear plastic, and a cool diagram of Gamera detailing his anatomy and special powers is visible inside the window. If you ever wondered how a turtle could fly, you can now clearly see that it is because of his arm and leg jet sacks. Duh!


It's clear that a lot of thought and frankly, love, went into the package design, so kudos to Shout Factory, and packaging supervisor Jeff Palo and art director Karrie Stouffer in particular. It is nice to know that there are still people who care enough to do a really great job.

In the United States, poorly-dubbed, panned and scanned Gamera films have long been a staple of unlicensed cheapo multi-DVD sets (and SLP video-cassettes before them). This Shout Factory release marks the first time Gamera: The Giant Monster has been released in its original Japanese version and its original widescreen aspect ratio in the United States. The DVD was authored from a newly created HD master from vault elements. The quality of the video is quite good and certainly looks better than I've ever seen it in the past.

What can I say about a movie that is about the destructive rampage of a flying, mutant turtle and the little boy who helps save the world because of his love of turtles? Roger Ebert made the following, very intelligent observation about a different Gamera film:

There's a learning process that moviegoers go through. They begin in childhood without sophistication or much taste, and for example, like Gamera more than Air Force One because flying turtles are obviously more entertaining than United States presidents. Then they grow older and develop "taste," and prefer Air Force One, which is better made and has big stars and a more plausible plot. (Isn't it more believable, after all, that a president could single-handedly wipe out a planeload of terrorists than that a giant turtle could spit gobs of flame?) Then, if they continue to grow older and wiser, they complete the circle and return to Gamera again, realizing that while both movies are preposterous, the turtle movie has the charm of utter goofiness--and, in an age of flawless special effects, it is somehow more fun to watch flawed ones.

I think Ebert basically gets it right. Gamera: The Giant Monster is the kind of film that nearly any adult can tell you is "bad." But that is a value judgment we have to be taught how to make. Children instinctively know that movies about flying turtles that eat fire and destroy things are good movies, because--let's face it--flying turtles that eat fire and destroy things are cool. (My 8 year old son awarded Gamera 4.75 stars out of a possible 5, and noted that it is definitely better in the original Japanese.) Adults on the other hand have been taught that movies should be about adults that talk about things, and not about mutant turtles, which are silly, and besides everybody knows that no animal (no matter how large) can eat fire. Personally, I think we have a lot to learn from our children.

Shout Factory plans to release the rest of the Showa era Gamera films for the first time in the United States in their original Japanese versions and in anamorphic widescreen. The next entry in the series, Gamera vs Barugon, is due out on July 6th. I'm guessing the next one will earn a full five star rating, because the only thing cooler than a movie about a giant, flying, fire-eating turtle is a movie about a giant, flying, fire-eating turtle who does battle with a giant lizard with a freeze ray.

Exile In Pixelville

Do you see anything wrong with the image below?


I see plenty wrong with it, and any visual artist I know would absolutely hit the ceiling if their work were reproduced in this way. The image is, of course, the iconic cover to the Rolling Stones' Exile On Main St album that features a Robert Frank photograph of a photo collage that he discovered on the wall of a tattoo parlor. This is a scan of the new deluxe edition artwork. Resolution issues aside (which are partly the fault of my scanner), the first thing I noticed about the new cover is that the color balance is off. The whole cover has a reddish tint, while the original LP had no tinting whatsoever. To my eyes the tinting looks "wrong," although I admit it could be considered a legitimate artistic choice. But as you will see below, there are some other things about the way the image was manipulated that are very hard to understand.

More annoying to me is the fact that to fit the original square-shaped cover to the rectangular dimensions of a digipack, someone has done a Photoshop hack job on the image. Take a look at the blue highlighted selections below. Do they look familiar?


They should, as they've simply been cropped out of the original image and repeated. See the areas highlighted in red below to see the parts of the image that have been duplicated.


Once I noticed this repetition of images, I found it incredibly distracting. My eye is continually drawn to the elements in the image that are repeated. I understand that they needed to do something to fit a square image to the rectangular dimensions of a digipack, it's just that I feel they found the worst possible way to do it.

Here is a photo I took of my Exile On Main St LP cover using nothing more than a Canon Digital Rebel SLR camera with stock lens:


I cleaned up the image slightly in Photoshop then cut the text to a separate layer. Next, I used the "desaturate" adjustment to make sure the cover was truly black and white. This probably took me around ten minutes.

Once I started looking at the original cover, I noticed something interesting: I had originally assumed the repetition of images for the deluxe reissue was needed to prevent cropping the image, but in fact someone cropped a significant amount of material out of the original image to create the deluxe artwork. See the highlighted areas below to see what was cut out:


This makes the choice to repeat material even more mystifying to me. Somebody actually chopped off some of the horizontal information, which makes no sense if you are trying to transform a square image into a horizontally aligned rectangular one.

If they had merely cropped the image in the way you see it below, it would have fit the dimensions of the digipack perfectly with no need for repeating images. Yes, some of the original cover would have been lost, but no more than was cropped out anyway.


If they wanted to keep the entire original album cover intact, they could have added some sort of sidebar, as I often see on such deluxe reissues. I created a possible example below, although I am sure someone more creative than me could do something much more interesting. But at least this way none of the iconic album cover is lost.


I didn't spend very long manipulating any of these images, and I admit they are far from perfect. If I had better equipment, a better source, and more time I could have done a lot better. Nevertheless, I think the options I've presented here would have been preferable to the very strange and unappealing artwork that was created for this deluxe reissue. Of course if they had chosen to go with standard jewel case packaging, none of this manipulation would have been necessary in the first place. I personally don't believe digipacks are mandatory for deluxe reissues, although they do seem to be the norm.

Okay, I realize there are bigger problems in the world than botched CD reissue artwork. I'm honestly more puzzled by this than anything: the more closely I looked at the artwork, the more questions I had, and the less sense any of it made to me. I'd be interested to hear possible explanations for what I consider some very strange choices. But considering how iconic this album cover is (John Lydon has admitted that it was a huge influence on the visual aesthetic of punk rock), I think it is a real shame to see it treated with so little respect.

If I haven't said anything about the music on Exile On Main St yet, it's because I assume you know it's great: a near perfect fusion of rock, blues, country and gospel. It is the fullest realization ever of what Gram Parsons envisioned as "Cosmic American Music" despite the fact that it was (mostly) made by five Brits living in France.

The deluxe reissue is worth picking up for the bonus disc, but not, in my opinion, for the remastering. Target is selling an exclusive "rarities edition" that is just the bonus CD for $10. It's refreshing to have an option not to repurchase the original album but still be able to get the bonus tracks for a reasonable price.

I know Exile is supposed to be a "bad" sounding recording, but if you find a good copy on LP and play it back on a decent system, it is actually a very lively and real sounding recording. The warts and all sound shocked a lot of people back in 1972 because the Stones chose not to adhere to the post-Abbey Road norm of slickly produced multi-track rock music. The album sounds all the more vital today because of that fact.

Unfortunately, the new remaster does adhere to today's norm of dynamically compressing older recordings, which to my ears ends up emphasizing the murkier aspects of the recording. For the best sounding Exile on CD I recommend finding a used copy of the 1994 Virgin reissue that was remastered by Robert Ludwig. Better yet, find an Artisan pressed original UK or US LP, as none of the CD reissues have bettered it sonically.

Update:

I looked at the non-deluxe edition CD in a record store today, and the cover art on that also features some strange repetition of images, even though the image is rectangular. Some of the images that were cropped from the bottom of the original cover reappear, but there is another band of repeated images at the bottom. Weird.