What does music mean to you?

As you might imagine, that's a really hard question to answer. Ask any person why something is her favorite song, or book, or painting and she'll find it difficult to answer. She might tell you she likes the melody, or the way the author writes, or the use of colors, but that just begs for more questions: "Why do you like that melody? What about the writing appeals to you? Why does that combination of colors please you so?"

For an awful lot of people,
music is just another
background experience,
something that covers up
the hum of the refrigerator. I've been writing about music for over a decade now, trying diligently to put my subjective feelings into some sort of objective form, and it's still difficult to explain exactly why what I hear moves me. I can't quite decide on the exact combination of craft, passion and honest self-expression that flips the pleasure switches in my brain. I've tried to come up with criteria, but every time I think I've narrowed down the characteristics that define my tastes something comes along that defies them. I decide I only love music that means something—then I discover big dumb rockers like Nashville Pussy. I decide I don't like music that's just a facade for a satiric joke—and along come the Peenbeets to monopolize my stereo. I decide I don't like music that's all about the different ways to use technique instead of going by feel—then I become obsessed with Dave Brubeck or progressive rock. The only true rule seems to be that there are no rules. We like what we like, and who the hell knows why.

So you see the problem. It's my job to quantify and qualify my head bobs, foot taps and humming into some kind of plainspoken prose that will hopefully be understood by the general reader, and even more hopefully induce that reader to seek out the music on his own. During the past several years I've discovered dozens, if not hundreds, of artists making music that stirs my soul in indescribable ways. Some are well-known, some are obscure, most are somewhere in between—When I tell folks about them, I'm trying to get them to hear what I hear, attempting to convey the excitement, the rush, the indescribable thrill that moves me to turn up the volume, sing along with the melody or tell everyone in the room to shut the hell up so I can listen.

But not everyone feels that way. For an awful lot of people, music is just another background experience, something that covers up the hum of the refrigerator. It might make their lives a bit more pleasant but it's not something to really think about. Many music producers, from big corporations to small homegrown operations, have responded in kind. Whether it's the latest mainstream, ersatz R&B boy band or the newest marginally talented indie rock sensation, the music industry presents only product, not art, because that's what the masses want to hear: something to fill up the empty air, not something to move them.

Trends are not important here.
Genres are not important here.
All that's important here
is music that matters. There are, however, those who also dig a little deeper into their listening experiences, who take something from the music away with them, who count the days, hours, minutes until they can listen to it again, to feel that rush again. I know they're out there. They're looking for something to tell them about music that means something, music that feels, that burns. They want to know what else is out there that moves them like their old favorites. High Bias is for them.

You probably won't find too many hit artists here. Too much of what's on the radio or MTV is perfectly soulless, not any different that the background music you might hear in a commercial—it might even be the same song. For that matter, the mainstream music industry's habit of milking any trend dry ensures that most artists imitate each other anyway, leeching the music of the moment of even its novelty value. By the same token, you probably won't find too many hip underground flavors of the month either. Indie rock and pop have become just as stale as what's heard in the mainstream, as more and more artists in that arena become concerned with their own perceived hipness rather than any kind of artistry. In the indie world things like the desire to irritate or impress have overtaken self-expression or the plain old desire to make music, and willful obscurity, indolence and a refusal to develop are somehow perceived as innovation. Plus, with rafts of imitators aping whoever is the star of the moment, indie rock has proven itself as trendy as anything that hits the mainstream for its 15 minutes.

There are also certain styles of music you probably also won't find covered here too often. Reviews of electronic dance music, by whatever sobriquet it's currently known, will be rare occurrences. Permutations of the kind of music made by the Grateful Dead, the so-called "jam bands," will get a cold shoulder here. Lounge/cocktail/bachelor pad music will be welcomed with a homicidal glint and a loaded shotgun. These are musics that find no purchase on the cliff face of my soul. Hip hop, and metal will have little coverage as well, but that's due more to ignorance of the genres on my part than any real disaffection toward them. As I build a stable of writers to assist me I hope to have those styles accounted for, if the releases are worthy.

What you will find here are musical forms with designations like psychedelic, progressive, jazz, power pop, country & western, blues, roots rock, world music, soul, hard rock, folk and more, though the genre designations aren't as important as the impetus behind the music. You'll find artists along the lines of the Bevis Frond, Paul K, RL Burnside, Stan Ridgway, Wayne Kramer, Femi Kuti, Charlie Rich, Hedningarna, John Scofield, Bob Mould. You'll find an eclectic mix of styles and passions, with the common thread being that all these artists make music because they can do nothing else. Trends are not important here. Genres are not important here. All that's important here is music that matters.

Join us. Discover someone new. Renew a friendship long thought abandoned. And always remember: don't take only what's handed to you on a rusty silver platter. Seek out what moves you. And always listen with extreme prejudice.

Michael Toland
Editor-in-Chief