I was thinking, while watching Rockstar Supernova, that there's a missing link in the way the music industry appears to be evolving.

On one hand, it's never been easier to write songs and 'get them out there.' Various types of software give you a multi-track studio in a laptop, and the web gives you an easy way to send tunes around the world.

On the other hand, there are more and more of these manufactured performers and bands, in which one group of extroverts auditions in front of another group of extroverts. I'm not intending to be malicious in using the word 'manufactured;' I think many of the Rockstar contestants, for instance, are solid, seasoned entertainers.

But as the music industry pulls its talent from these purpose-built ensembles, it's ignoring the potential of all of the unsung basement geniuses. The latter are likely generating more potentially lucrative material than has ever been available.

The result is a ton of people making music, yet nothing but dross and oldies on the radio.

This ecosystem needs a new creature, some kind of middle-man. Someone to extract, like oil from tarsands, the best material from the unknown songwriters, and get it into the hands of the 'rockstars.' It won't be as poetic as the rise and fall of Curt Cobain, but at least there might be a few more good songs getting airplay (or webplay), and a few more folks might get rich.

Of course, the guys likely to end up cashing in the most will likely be these new middle men. The least musical, but most entrepreneurial link in the chain will walk out with the most gravy. Nonetheless, the previously ignored songwriter will get some recognition and a bit of change, and all of these self-proclaimed 'rockstars' might get some substance to go with their style.

Various Items:

-There was a fire near 2nd and Quebec on Friday night. I could see the reflection of the flames out my window, on the windows of the glass towers on the opposite side of False Creek. Kind of a odd accompaniment to the release of the new Stoke record this weekend (I've got copies). The cover of the album features a photo of a piece of graffiti that adorned the wall of a now-demolished building at the same intersection as Friday's fire. The work can be seen at blacknblues.com...a portrait of an unkown woman.

-I feel very despondent these days. I'm in a shell, as JR McClelland once said. Or as someone else once said, 'how did I get to this place?'

-Instead of auditioning for a lead singer, shouldn't the members of Supernova be looking for a songwriter? Perhaps I'm being unkind, but between the three of them they've managed one great tune in 20 years (that being Gilby Clarke's admittedly superb 'Cure Me or Kill Me,' a song that has about three killer riffs in the first 50 seconds, and also includes the words 'Tarantula Fuzz'; I think I'll add it to my list of six favorite songs...I think I've finished the list now).

I know they're relying on the producer to supply a Mutt Lange-like thunderbolt or two, but is that wise?

Well, I still like the French soccer team, perhaps now more than ever.

For some reason it doesn’t bother me at all that they are a frustrating, aging group that squandered their potential after a ramdom, inexplicable act of self-destruction.

As for Zidane’s head butt, I’m bemused by all the speculation as to what Marco Materazzi said to him to provoke it. Perhaps it was a truly execrable comment, though I also wouldn’t be surprised if it was relatively innocuous bit of chiding, and that it was a combination of frustration and temper, set off by the nattering itself, that ignited Zidane.

You see, I have some experience with this myself, and therefore I’m reluctant to condemn Zidane’s act of violence. I have a co-worker who sets me off in much the same way. It’s not so much that what she says is offensive; it’s the gradual build-up of irritation that gets you.

If you fused my relationship with my co-worker with the World Cup final incident, I can envision the exchange going something like this:

Materazzi: You’ve had your chances, Zizou, but your’re finished. We’re the mighty Azzuri. Soon we will be world champions...the greatest team across all six continents.

Zidane: You mean seven continents.

Materazzi: No, six...Europe, North America, South America, Africa, Australia...what’s the other one? Let me think...

Zidane: The other TWO; Asia and Antarctica.

Materazzi: I don’t think Asia’s a continent, maybe India...anyway, we’re going to destroy you, much in the same way that the British Royal Family destroyed princess Diana. That was terrible. Of course, you French were in on it, weren’t you?

Zidane: What are you talking about?

Materazzi: The crash scene. All the evidence you destroyed. How come French police cleaned up the crash scene so quickly? Maybe the French governement is in league with the British Royal Family. Or at least in league with the Queen. The Queen could be directing a rogue element within MI5 who have connections to the French secret police who...

Zidane: Why don’t you piss off?

Materazzi: You see, you’re all discombobulated. Ha ha ha...

Zidane: Will you shut up?

Materatzi: Yes, you’re discombobulated. It means...well, I’m not sure what it means. I just made it up! I can’t say exactly what it means because I just made it up!! Sometimes I do that. I make up words. What's another one I made up? I know....

THUNK!!!