Roberts' argument is that many brands attain respect, either by consistently putting out high-quality products or by cultivating an image of being high-quality through marketing. But if a respected brand goes away, it can easily be replaced by another. Brands that have achieved "lovemark" status, however, are irreplaceable, because consumers have developed a kind of personal relationship with them; the best example for this sort of thing would be Apple. It takes a long time to get to this point, but once you do, you've secured a good, long run for yourself.

We probably need to wave our hands at an issue at this point: there's an extra "r" in the object under discussion, and that might make the kind of people who have personal relationships with bands uncomfortable. We don't like to think of bands as being commercial entities, despite the evidence that money is essential for the realization of artistic vision. But this discomfort is also a fact of life, something that bands have to skillfully avoid if they want to become respected and/or loved—to pretend not to be commercial entities while staying ruthless in their business dealings. Still, the music industry could always use a little advice on its marketing techniques.

For those of us that just talk about music, the graph is a useful conception. For instance, it explains the angry disconnect between dedicated fans of particular popstars and everyone else. Clay Aiken fans, to take an example entirely at random, rate Clay highly on the Love axis, and even if the rest of us don't, we can at least understand how people would. But because Claymates go further and insist that he should be rated highly on the Respect axis too, it causes a disconnect. Even if there's no rational basis for the feeling, everyone who's not a Clay Aiken fan would agree that he doesn't really seem worthy of respect, no matter how much you like him. Claymates' conviction that their love for Clay comes along with a sort of logically consistent respect makes them seem, well, a little unhinged, or at least like rubes. Of course, you can say this about dedicated fans of anything you yourself see as worthless.

Roberts' specific tips for how to achieve lovemark status contain some useful pointers for up-and-coming bands, and a handy description of how that sort of fandom works for the rest of us:

A Lovemark’s high Love is infused with these three intangible, yet very real, ingredients: Mystery, Sensuality and Intimacy.

Mystery draws together stories, metaphors, dreams and symbols. It is where past, present and future become one. Mystery adds to the complexity of relationships and experiences because people are drawn to what they don’t know. After all, if we knew everything, there would be nothing left to learn or to wonder at.

Sensuality keeps the five senses on constant alert for new textures, intriguing scents and tastes, wonderful music. Sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste. Our senses work together to alert us, lift us, transport us. When they are stimulated at the same time, the results are unforgettable. It is through the five senses we experience the world and create our memories.

Intimacy means empathy, commitment and passion. The close connections that win intense loyalty as well as the small perfect gesture. These are often remembered long after functions and benefits have faded away. Without Intimacy people cannot feel they own a brand, and without that conviction a brand can never become a Lovemark.

Now, of course, the way he's putting this involves a lot of cringeworthy marketing-speak, but the essential point remains valid. In Hammer of the Gods, it's made very clear how Led Zeppelin intentionally cultivated an aura of mystery and how effective this was in securing a rabid fanbase. As frustrating (and seductive) as mystery can be for critics, it's what keeps fans coming back for more. Bands today know well the value of intimacy, certainly. If you communicate with fans through the usual channels, it seems impersonal, but if you do it through YouTube and social networking sites, it seems more personal somehow, and fans like that. Intimacy allows you to control your own image. If there's anyone who's hit the lovemark sweet spot in these regards, it's Bob Dylan. After a period in the woods, he's become such a figure of sensual, intimate mystery (introducing long-lost tracks on a radio program where he talks directly to you) that he's essentially the Apple of music: respectable, classy, a little edgy but also a link to the past. And the fact that he's doing it intentionally is somehow part of the appeal.

A final word about respect and Yngwie Malmsteen: it's been fashionable for a long time now to decry virtuosoism, and perhaps rightly so. But one of the interesting things about the new rhythm games is that it turns virtuosity, seemingly a fixture of the Respect axis, into a form of pleasure: intricate, masterful performances make for challenging, rewarding gameplay experiences. Maybe we'll get to the point where we love a band for their Rock Band tracks, but can't really respect someone who doesn't seem very relevant outside of video games.

About Lovemarks [Lovemarks]
Archived version [archive.org]

Radio Person 1: "Right then, shall we playlist this new Alphabeat single?"
Radio Person 2: "I fucking hate Alphabeat."
Radio Person 1: "I fucking love Alphabeat."
Radio Person 2: "Yeah they're a classic Marmite band. I suppose a lot of people do fucking love them so even though I do not like them myself I fully understand why they deserve a place on our radio station."
Radio Person 1: "Oh hang on, the new Snow Patrol single's arrived."
Radio Person 2: "Let's just play that then."

So, after describing the whole "marmite" ideal to Dan, we got down to business. What other artists are officially yeasty to a point of being utterly unpalatable to some, yet beloved by others?

danielgibson77: wait, there are people who don't like alphabeat?
mauraatidolator: i KNOW!
mauraatidolator: but who else could qualify for this distinction? who is so divisive that they rend internet message boards in two?
danielgibson77: my morning jacket?
mauraatidolator: hmmm.
mauraatidolator: no, they're just shitty.
danielgibson77: people like them, maura
mauraatidolator: well they're wrong.
mauraatidolator: vampire weekend!
danielgibson77: i think the same shitty argument could be made

See, the Popjustice folks say that "there's no value judgment involved," but I dunno, it feels like that could never, ever be the case, if only because the people on the "nay" side may never be convinced that the bands are not just 100% intractably awful. However, after doing some research—which mainly involves looking at the comment threads on past Idolator posts—I think I've come up with a handful of Officially Marmite Artists:

Pink Floyd.
Fall Out Boy. (Whose new Elvis Costello-aided single is quite good, btw. Oh noes, here come even more fights!)
Oasis. (Paging Jay-Z!)

And maybe The Doors? Those posts a few months back sure got a lot of attention. Anyway, add your own!

Marmite Music: A study [Popjustice]

Bob Dylan and His Band
The Raconteurs
Gnarls Barkley
The Roots
Spoon
The Black Keys
Black Mountain
The Duke Spirit
NASA
Tiny Masters of Today

College Bands
Bears (Kent State University)
Flying Machines (The New School)
Gospel Gossip (Carleton College)
Magic Bullets (University of California Berkley)
Math the Band (University of Massachusetts Dartmouth)
My Dear Disco (University of Michigan)
Nothing Unexpected (Robert Morris University)
The Black Fortys (University of Southern Illinois)
The Company Kang (Whitman College)
The Delicious (Indiana University)
The Depreciation Guild (New York University)
The Elizabethan Report (Brigham Young University)
The French Horn Rebellion (Northwestern University)
The Royal Bangs (University of Tennessee)
The Steps (University of Texas Austin)

American Eagle Outfitters Announces Summer Music Festival Hosted by Anthony Kiedis of Red Hot Chili Peppers [Centre Daily; HT RS]

How could anybody who's seen Don't Look Back not remember when "New Dylan" Donovan suffers the Worst Sonning Ever at the original's hands?

It's an awesome moment of hype-inspired homicide, but imagine if we'd left Donovan's corpse catching the wind? Then we wouldn't have such awesome lightweight incantations as "There Is A Mountain," "Rikki-Tikki Tavi" and "Sunshine Superman." Maybe you don't need every album, but the guy's got a great best-of.

Likewise, surely we can find something to enjoy about the Vines' finer slack-jawed shenanigans.

Ride with me, people!

Next big heroes to nigh-on zeros. Where did it all go wrong? [Guardian]
Bob Dylan and Donovan [YouTube]
Donovan - Sunshine Superman [YouTube]
The Vines - Ride [YouTube]

If you're going to skim images from documentaries and put them on a tilt-a-whirl with famous actors, why is it better to include surrealism involving Richard Gere and a town full of dwarfs rather than treating the cameos like cameos and playing it for laughs? If you've got Richard Gere staring across the horizon on a horse with no name and you're not trying to crack me up, how could you possibly be making something good? Why cast David Cross as Allen Ginsberg if you're not going to have him be funny? There are two reasons to dress up Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan. One is comedy, and the other is Oscar bait. I'm more inclined to respect the former.

I don't know how someone who didn't already like Dylan could get into his music after watching I'm Not There and seeing so much earnest superficiality, but the truly award-worthy musical homages that fill The Rutles are only improved by the light mood. I can see how Dylanologists and folks entranced by the bard's hair could get off on I'm Not There's "the point is there is no point, man" jive, but fans of Dylan's music are basically given this:

And how is that preferable to (or even more evocative of its subject than) this?

The Rutles Intro [YouTube]
THE RUTLES - Let's Be Natural (1969) [YouTube]
Bob Dylan - Goin' To Acapulco [YouTube]

August 9th (in alphabetical order):

Bloc Party
Cat Power
Chuck Berry and the Silver Beats
Citizen Cope
Duffy
Foo Fighters
Gogol Bordello
Jack Johnson
KT Tunstall
Lupe Fiasco
The Offspring
Paramore
Rodrigo y Gabriela
Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings
The Swell Season
Wilco.
DJ Dan & Donald Glaude (dance tent)
Erol Alkan (dance tent)
Ferry Corsten (dance tent)
Soul Wax (dance tent)
Steve Lawler (dance tent)
Underworld (dance tent)

August 10 (in alphabetical order):

Andrew Bird's Bowl of Fire
Black Keys
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
Bob Dylan
Go! Team
Iggy & The Stooges
Kanye West
Lil Wayne
Nine Inch Nails
Stone Temple Pilots
She & Him
Shudder to Think
Taking Back Sunday
Armin van Buuren (dance tent)
Chromeo (dance tent)
Richie Hawtin (dance tent)
Deadmau5 (dance tent)
Moby (dance tent)
Pendulum (dance tent)

Looks like Shudder To Think is back back! And the Offspring still hasn't left.

Dylan, Stooges, Chuck Berry Join Virgin Fest Bill [Billboard]

Now you see this one-eyed midget

Shouting the word "NOW"

And you say, "For what reason?"

And he says, "How?"

And you say, "What does this mean?"

And he screams back, "You're a cow!"

"Give me some milk or else go home!"

Guaranteed to blow young minds.

Apropos of little, here's Rod Stewart's "Forever Young," which I always hear when I try to think of Dylan's number, thanks to a childhood exposure to old-school VH1.

Personally, a children's book based on this ditty would hold more sentimental value. Hell, I'd be happy showing my future spawn still photos of this rooster-haired man yelling at some red-headed stepchild in the back of a pick-up. "This is what America was like when I was a kid."

Dylan takes Forever Young to the kids [Guardian]
Bob Dylan: Ballad Of A Thin Man [bobdylan.com]

It must be tough being a baby boomer. On the one hand, you've got "The Ken Burns Effect" going on for the generation preceding you and hearing about how "great" their war was, while you lost your war. On the other side, you've got them young'uns with their Internets, their ringtones and their Britney Spearses. Who's going to remember your generation and your music? Remember how great that music was? (Oh, wait, if you do remember how great the music was, then you couldn't have been there; damned "Freedom Rock" conundrum.) But go onto iTunes, and they don't even have The Beatles, who were the greatest band ever. If even they can be forgotten, who will remember you?

Thanks to the diligent efforts of directors like Julie Taymor and Martin Scorsese, in the 21st century we can now know about bands like The Beatles (Across the Universe) and The Rolling Stones (Shine a Light). And then there's Todd Haynes, who has not only reminded us of the awesomeness of the Carpenters (Superstar), David Bowie (Velvet Goldmine), and Douglas Sirk (Far From Heaven), but now unearths this folksinger named Bob Dylan, who was once called "the spokesman for a generation." But having found Jesus (or was it Judaism?), the now-forgotten Dylan DJs for Sirius Radio and pays his bills by shilling for lingerie.

OK, I'm being slightly facetious here, but I don't see the point of an already-dominant mythology continually being recapitulated and crammed back down the throat anew. (Then again, the gospel passages read at church don't really change either.) Haynes's recent entry in the baby boomer self-thrown fete I'm Not There is better slightly shorter and less confusing than both of Dylan's movies, 1978's Reynaldo and Clara and 2003's Masked and Anonymous, and easier than reading his book Tarantula. And it's far more fun than trudging through the recent three-disc set Dylan (which Douglas Wolk aptly quipped was "a sarcophagus for an artist who deserves a bazaar instead"), but deconstruction or not, it's still doctrine, even we do get the bazaar this time out.

Instead of a Behind the Music about Dylan, we get seven fractured fairytales of the man, played by the likes of an 11-year-old African-American kid, a linebacker-necked Heath Ledger, American Gigolo Richard Gere, and—most successful of all—Cate Blanchett, who has the strung-out, nerve-burnt, trembling act of '65 Dylan down so cold that I'd love to see her do a one-woman show of Eat the Document. None of these characters are nominally "Dylan" and the facts of his life are readily rendered into fables and myth, stratagems the man himself deploys. "I'm not there, I'm gone," he bays over the end credits, The Band behind him, the lone instance of his voice on the soundtrack and film.

Haynes follows a similar tact as Taymor did for Across the Universe, in that his subject too is transtheistic, absent from the world (save for a glimpse of the man in the waning seconds of the film) yet fully steeped in it. Which is a curious way of suggesting that these artists and their music were so profound as to alter the world they were in. Even if Dylan and the Beatles vanished tomorrow, their influence could never fully disappear.

And yet there are some whoppers in the film (and no, I'm not talking about Dr. Tobias Funke portraying Allen Ginsberg). It takes quite a humble fellow to equate his dissolving marriage with the war in Vietnam and in the sequence involving Gere, the dialogue is lamely cobbled from The Basement Tapes, replete with characters named Mrs. Henry and references to "Chickentown." We get to see My Morning Jacket's Jim James in full Reynaldo and Clara whiteface wailing in a gazebo here, but do you mean to tell me there was no way to work in a small scene wherein the fellow playing the snare drum gets hit with a pie that smells?

I'm Not There marks the first occasion that Dylan's back pages are turned into soundtrack, and despite the tedium of sitting through its two-hour plus runtime there's still a rush to be had hearing "Stuck Inside of Mobile With the Memphis Blues Again" and the boot-shuffling "Nashville Skyline Rag" play over the early scenes. When the covers do start cropping up, they sound—if inconsequential and entirely too reverential—at the very least like they were a blast to record. Who wouldn't want to belt out Dylan karaoke backed by the likes of Calexico (one hopes that this isn't the lone song they laid down with Willie Nelson), Joe Henry, or the Million Dollar Bashers (comprised of noiseniks like John Medeski, Lee Ranaldo, and Tom Verlaine)? But who needs to hear Stephen Malkmus whine three freakin' times?

As the baby boomers verily swear, their era was a fun, idyllic, stoned and crazy time (see "Freedom Rock" conundrum), and yet their reverent remembrance of things past is stifling. I'm Not There's Dylanfest goes on so long that by the time the Monkees' "(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone" comes on at full-crank, it's refreshing and downright edgy. "Live your own time, child," an elderly woman tells that young, gifted, and black Dylan at one point (who is nostalgic in the McCarthy era for the Depression), but neither in the film nor on the soundtrack is such advice ever heeded.

Visitors to the website for the new video - www.dylan07.com - are greeted by a digitally altered version of the "Subterranean Homesick Blues" film, in which Dylan drops cue cards outlining the instructions for would-be contributors. A separate website allowing fans to generate their own version of the cue-card sequence has been visited by 600,000 people. Unfortunately, the same cannot yet be said for submissions to YouTube. By last night, just 24 videos had been uploaded to the site. However, fans have asked for the original deadline of 21 October to be extended.

Those who will compile the finished video may also be hoping for some better material. The entries submitted so far include a baby playing a harmonica and a man holding up a succession of signs reading "private". At the same time, such creative anarchy may appeal to Dylan himself.

Well that's one way of spinning it, yes. Wow, 24 fans cared enough to knock together a few minutes of video. Out of 600,000 vistors. Sony BMG might have to rethink "eschewing mainstream media" if they really want to "alter the way the pop industry works," unless that means ceding control to a handful shirtless weirdos and America's Funniest Home Videos rejects.

His Finest Hour? [Independent via Buzzgrinder]

"The barriers are changing and we as artists are making less and less money, and we have to get creative," notes Mr. McKagan, whose new band has licensed its music to a Victoria's Secret commercial and movie soundtracks, formed partnerships with entities like the music video simulation game Guitar Hero, and appeared in ads for the clothing designer John Varvatos. "Fifteen years ago, it would have been totally not cool. You would have been selling out."

But isn't it still the fans who were buying the band's records 15 years ago, the all-important touring audience, that are the only ones still hung up on the idea of "selling out," especially since these stories are often at pains to point out that the kids don't really think much of a younger band mass-merchandising itself into oblivion in 2007? The small irony for musicians like McKagan and especially contemporaries like Motley Crue, suvivors from a genre that flaunted fusty ideas of "legitimacy," is that they've been forced to do the tricky anti-sellout dance. You'd think Nikki Sixx would be downright impossible to embarrass, but it seems classic rock status makes everyone self-conscious.

The branding wave makes some rockers wince. Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe recalls feeling let down as a teenager when he saw Kiss on a lunchbox. "I was devastated because all of a sudden they were like Shaun Cassidy and the Partridge Family," he says. Even though it might be hard to distinguish branded lunchboxes from Mötley Brüe, Nikki Sixx rolls his eyes when he sees some of the products that musicians are endorsing. He says he drew the line at baby bottles, even after his advisers pointed out that his fans were becoming parents.
"I think you can go too far," he says.

Which is called "having it both ways," and a smart way to assure longtime fans while staying paid. But whatever the feelings of musicians about advertising diluting the power of music, there's now a worry among ad people that music, or at least celebrity, may still be more powerful than ads. (I know, right?) An Advertising Age report has agency types fretting that since marquee names, like Bob Dylan, are now beating down their doors, the trend for high-profile pop ads may no longer be mutually beneficial.

Mr. Dylan's appearance "definitely dwarfs the product," said Josh Rabinowitz, senior VP-director of music at WPP Group's Grey Worldwide. Even Cadillac admits Mr. Dylan can be a distraction when paired with certain products, though executives felt the Escalade was its most popular model and could hold its own. Modernista took pains to keep Mr. Dylan from overwhelming the car, avoiding scenarios in which he talked about horsepower or the car's navigation system, said David Weist, a creative director at the agency. Mr. Dylan's management told the agency that the singer didn't want his songs used, as it might be seen as self-indulgent.

Of course, that's Bob Dylan, who's a special case even compared to Behind The Music stars like McKagan and Sixx. But the article does conclude on this depressing note:

As record companies pursue their own agendas, the sound of music may grow less melodious. Such entities are "definitely in it for the exposure," said Mike Boris, senior VP-executive music producer at Interpublic Group's McCann Erickson. Musicians "are thinking about their brand." Which means they don't necessarily care about yours.

'Course that really doesn't take into account where listeners fit in. But we're barely a secondary market these days.

If It's Retail, Is It Still Rock? [New York Times]
The Times Are A-Changin' For Musicians And Marketers [Advertising Age]

We have a bunch of questions for you regarding your thoughts on Bob Dylan. We will select 5 $50 Amazon.com gift certificate winners among responses received by 10 a.m. EST this Monday, July 16. Please also include your age and city with your response.

1.) Are you familiar with Bob Dylan? If yes, what do you know/think of him?

2.) Are you a fan of his music?

3.) Would you be interested in learning about the history of him as a musician and icon?

4.) Would you buy his new album?

5.) Do you think he currently has a cultural relevance? If so, what? If not, why?

Thanks so much! We look forward to hearing from you.

And we look forward to finding out what, precisely, this thing is meant to feed into. A higher placement from under-30 critics in Idolator's next critics poll? A demographic that appreciates his lyrical mentions of Alicia Keys? Eager recipients of "Dylan in the Schools" programs? A groundswell for the singer-songwriter's Snidely Whiplash mustache revival? An eager nation—or at least Jann Wenner—is waiting with bated breath.

Kindergarten kids in ritzy L.A. suburb Calabasas have been coming home to their parents and talking about the "weird man" who keeps coming to their class to sing "scary" songs on his guitar. The "weird" one turns out to be Bob Dylan, whose grandson (Jakob Dylan's son) attends the school. He's been singing to the kindergarten class just for fun, but the kiddies have no idea they're being serenaded by a musical legend - to them, he's just Weird Guitar Guy.

If they think he's weird now, just imagine how freaked out they'd be if he was still in his big-bouffant '80s heyday.

Easily Scared [NYPost.com]

Bob Dylan - Huck's Theme [MP3, link expired]

Anyway, sitting there, enjoying the music and from above comes flying on a diagnol this big black thing. I only saw it for a split second and it was dark so I didn't see what it was. It hit my knee, then the back of the chair in front of me, finally landing under that chair. I quickly stood up and looked around thinking I'd see...something. But I didn't. No snickering teens and no upset Bethy. I felt my lap, bone dry, so it wasn't a large cup with beer. But what was it. Throughout the rest of the set I looked up and around. Myself and people around me were speculating exactly what it was and where it came from. Finally, after the Raconteurs' set, the lights came on. I reached down under the chair in front of me, and pulled up (to my and everyone around me's surprise) an IBM Thinkpad. What?!? Did it come from one of the light or sound techinicians in the rafters. Maybe someone kicked it from there. That was really all I thought it could be. If someone threw it, people around them would have seen it happen.

As it turns out, the owner of the laptop wasn't the person who threw it—the laptop was stolen before it was flung, so the strikee is still hoping that whoever threw it is "tortured by hanging upside down, with their eyelids clamped open, forced to watch hundreds of hours of men's competitve ice dancing, while listening to recordings of bad country music, played backwards." What, no Self-Portrait listening session?

Tales of the flying laptop at Dylan Concert, Philly, 11/18/06 [allalongthewatchtower.dk, via Philebrity]

Circus Leaves Town: Bob Dylan-Twyla Tharp Musical The Times They Are A Changin' to Close [Playbill]

Sadly, "Short Pants Romance" makes more sense than anything that's been happening on Lost island; we're starting to wonder if the island's peyote steam-bath hut is based on the show's writers' room.

In her show, the owner and ringmaster of the circus is Captain Ahrab (Thom Sesma), an evil tyrant who abuses his innocent son, Coyote (Michael Arden); his kind, worse-for-the-wear girlfriend, Cleo (Lisa Brescia); and everyone else in his vicinity—namely, six Pierrot-like clowns and Cleo's dog, whom he eventually garrotes. Then the times, they change. Coyote pairs off with Cleo, and the clowns kill Ahrab. (Or I think he died—it was hard to tell, because the scene was lit only by flashlights, but he didn't reappear after that.) Coyote takes over the circus, which now becomes a democratic organization: everyone gets ringmaster wear. They all sing "Forever Young," and the curtain comes down.

It Ain't Him, Babe [New Yorker]

Other top-10 debuts this week: Young Dro (No. 3); Method Man (No. 8); The Roots (No. 9); and Jessica Simpson (No. 5), who must be pretty annoyed that all her John Mayer tabloid heat didn't translate into a higher chart position. Rounding out the top 10 were Christina Aguilera, The Cheetah Girls, OutKast, and the unbelievably resilient Nickelback, whose "All the Right Reasons" crept into the No. 10 slot in its 48th week on the Billboard 200.

Dylan Earns First No. 1 Album Since 1976 [Billboard]