From the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. [ Silence ] 

 Leslie Johnston: [Background talking] Welcome to the Library of Congress. My name is Leslie Johnston and I'm the Acting Director of the National Digital Information Infrastructure and Preservation Program or NDIIIPP and I'm happy to welcome you all to the library for this event in our NDIIIPP digital preservation series. Word about NDIIIPP; NDIIIPP is a digital preservational organization at the Library of Congress. We have over three hundred partner organizations. The goal for our program is to build capacity for digital preservation nationally and build a national collection of digitized materials and born digital materials that are very much at risk. And it is in this mode that we are holding this series of speaker talks at the library about digital preservation, the preservation of born digital materials in particular. The library is dedicated to the preservation of all materials, born digital or digitized, and we'd like to let people know for anyone who's interested the PBS News Hour is actually airing a show tonight about the library's Packard Campus down in Culpepper, Virginia and what they're doing to preserve sound and film collections. So we very much encourage anyone that is here tonight or watching this alter to go online and check that out. But on to why we are all really here. As I'm personally really thrilled to be introducing our speaker tonight because I started listening to his music in the '90's [laughter]. So I'm going to date myself and him. Ian Mackaye... 

 Mackaye. 

 Leslie Johnston: Mackaye, yeah [laughter]. You know I know that but Ian Mackaye is the founder of a number of bands that we've all heard including Minor Threat and Fugazi; and he's a key figure in the Punk and Post-Punk music scene, especially here in the Washington, D.C. area. You know, his espousal of thing like the DIY ethic and the Straight Edge Philosophy is influential not just locally but internationally. He current performs in the duo The Evans. 

 Evens. 

 Leslie Johnston: Evens. Yeah [laughter]. Yeah so, but the other reason that he is here tonight is that he's well known as the founder of Discord Records which has as a part of its mission the preservation and distribution of local Washington, D.C. music, and in this citizen archivist role, that we really wanted to bring him here tonight to speak to you. So please welcome Ian Mackaye. [ Applause ] 

 Ian Mackaye: Thank you. Well first off -- sorry, I'm going to have some water here [thumping]. I met this fellow

utch Lazercack [assumed spelling] -- right-- some months ago and he has the unenviable task of working on a project archiving every webpage -- is that correct? Something like that. 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: Well you're part of a team [laughter]. 

 It's only a few billion. [Inaudible response] 


 Ian Mackaye: Yeah, which I came here to visit him and I said, "What are you work -- and I said, "We're actually archiving every website." I said, "Wow, have fun with that [laughter]." Anywa

 he's a nice guy. Everyone I've talked to here's been nice and they invited me to come talk. He said, "You want to come talk at the Library of Congress?" I said, "If people have questions I'm happy to talk." I don't usually have -- I don't have any presentation to be honest with you. What I can tell you -- just to speak a little bit to what my introduction -- how I was described. I will date myself. I'm 51-years-old. So consider myself dated. And I started playing music in 1979 when I came across Punk Rock which was this incredible discovery for me. Growing up in the late '60's and being a part of -- or being witness to sort of the social upheaval and revolution, seeing the civil rights movement, seeing the anti-war movement that was happening, being really inspired by those things as a child and also thinking foolishly as it turns out that this country was progressing beyond such ridiculous pastimes. I entered the '70's thinking okay, when I'm like an adult or a teenager -- once I realized I wasn't going to go to Vietnam -- you got to remember being born in 1962 and thinking in my head like, okay, when you're 18 you have to go to war. So for the first 12 years of my life I figured okay, I'm going to go to war. It wasn't until 1974 that they said, "Oh, war's a terrible idea. We're out." I said, "Okay, I guess I'm not going to go to war." Which was a good thing. Then I discovered that the '70's really -- there's nothing going on. Like I would look around and I couldn't find any sort of counter-culture. I couldn't find any kind of traction with a community of people that felt like they were challenging conventional thinking. In fact what I mostly saw were just people who were getting high. That's pretty much what I saw. Especially in high school. I went to Wilson High School here in Washington, D.C. and, you know, I loved all my friends but so many of them were just partying. And it seems like such a -- I don't know, disappointing that that was the only form of self -- only form of rebellion that they could come up with which was self-destruction. I was never interested in that at all. I think actually being witness to sort of the self-destruction that I saw in other people around me and also in musicians that I was a fan of -- a lifelong Jimmi Hendrix fan and knowing that he put an end to himself ultimately at the age of 27. Janice Joplin who was another hero of mine who also died at the age of 27. That I thought I'm not going to get near any of that stuff. I want to be here every moment. I want to be present every moment. However, there was nothing going on so I became a skateboarder. Skateboarding is not a hobby and it's not a sport. Skateboarding is a way of learning how to redefine the world around you. It's a way of getting out of the house, connecting with other people and looking at the world through different sets of eyes. When you're a skateboarder, especially in the 1970's when everyone thought it was a hobby -- they all thought it was like a strange version of a Yo-yo or Hula-hoop [laughter]. I think that they -- you know, I think at that time it was very under the radar so for most people when they saw a swimming pool, they thought let's take a swim. But I thought let's ride it. Let's see what the transition is like at the bottom. But they saw maybe a -- you know, a -- the curve or a street; they would think about driving on it. I would think about the texture. I slowly developed an ability I think to look at the world through totally different means. I had a whole other idea of what was happening. Weather played a very different role in my life at that time. If it rained -- like today would be a miserable day for me. In 1978 my more illuminated friends in high school started listening to New Wave which I thought sucked because that's what [laughter] the party line was, and New Wave sucked and Punk sucked. And I argued veraciously and in defense of Ted Nugent and Led Zeppelin [laughter] and I said that, you know, I was really against the Ramones and against the Sex Pistols. And also it's worth pointing out that my knowledge of these bands was largely coming through mass media which of course is a dubious source at best [laughter]. How -- I don't think I can even go -- give it that much credit [laughter]. Finally a friend of mine said, "Have you actually listened to New Wave or Punk?" I had not. Which made my argument slightly ridiculous [laughter]. And I borrowed some records from a friend and also from my sister and within these records there was the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, The Clash first album, The Damns first album. Whole series of bands that were confusing for me. Bands I'd never really heard of, record covers that were scary, music that was unrecognizable as music. It was -- didn't make sense to my ears. But my ears had been trained by the radio, which is a dubious source at best [laughter]. And I've used this analogy before and I'll use it again; if you grew up eating a hamburger and french fries every day of your life for dinner when someone puts like a delicious bowl of faux in front of you or a rice vermicelli dish, you would not recognize that as food or dinner. But it is dinner for a lot of people in the world. And it's better for you than a hamburger and french fries. See? So it took me a moment to get my mind around what I was listening to. The first song that really connected me was a song by the Sex Pistols called "Bodies". Sex Pistols are a much more straightforward band, pretty straight forward in terms of being kind of recognizable as a rock band. But they had a song called "Bodies" which is a song about an abortion. This is subject matter I had never heard anyone sing about ever, period. I'd never heard anyone cuss on a record ever before, ever. So this was very scary territory which is exactly why I was drawn in. Because when you see something that scares the shit out of you go towards it. You're about to learn something [laughter]. So once I cracked that I thought this is fascinating. Because I realized that moment -- and I imagine for most of you you've had a similar moment in one field or another where you realize there's a whole other layer of life, a whole other layer of culture, there's something that you've never even realized but you just found the portal, the entry point. This was extremely exciting for me when I realized that these few albums represented thousands and thousands of musicians and band around the world I had never heard of, didn't know they ever existed, knew nothing about it but now it was mind to learn. The first show I saw was The Cramps at the Hall of Nations at Georgetown University in 1979. It was February of '79 or may of late January. Again, a transformative moment walking in and seeing a room filled with people -- maybe 600 or 700, maybe 800. I don't know how many people. Virtually everyone there challenging some conventional idea about how to live. Whether it was a musical one obviously, a fashion one obviously, but also political and sexual. I think that they were challenging everything they could think of in that room and I thought, "I'm home." Because this is where the counter culture exists and this is where I want to be. Because the mainstream has always felt to me to be a toxic journey. One that ultimately supports hideous endeavors like drone attacks. A hideous endeavor. Horrible on our dime. So, I was in. I had to quit skateboarding at the time because skateboarding -- all the skateboarders just though Punk was ridiculous and called me terrible names. That was all right. It was a fair trade [laughter]. Then I realize in this new found world that I could now play music because there was an audience built in. I didn't have to be of a particular caliber of a player because I really didn't know how to play and I was glad I didn't have to be of a particular caliber. Because it wasn't that I was bad, I just wasn't. Do you follow? I wasn't at all. And I learned how to play bass only because the only three people in the and picked the other instruments [laughter]. I said, "Okay. I'll figure this out." I played piano before so I had a rough idea. We can figure this out. First band I played in was a band called The Slinkys; played one show [laughter]. One. At a party on MacArthur Blvd. One that almost canceled because the guy whose house it was got into trouble with his mom [laughter] and she canceled the show. And I was outraged [laughter] so I sent her a letter saying, "I understand that Brian did wrong [laughter]. But he's not in our band and it seems unfair to crush our dreams on behalf of his mistakes." And she wrote me back a letter saying, "I am a psychologist [laughter] and if you think I'm going to fall for that you are wrong." The show happened [laughter]. Whose wrong now [laughter]? Then I -- the band -- our singer went off to college sadly. One of my dearest friends. So we got another singer and we changed our name to the Teen Idels; I-D-E-L-S, Idels. Good name [laughter]. And we started to play music. At this point we had seen the Bad Brains who are from here, Washington, D.C. One of the greatest bands of all time -- period. Such an inspiration. A band of the -- their discipline, their talent was undeniable and being able to see them up close and to know them and to realize that they were from Washington, D.C. That was profound for me. Because I'm from Washington, D.C. I'm a fifth generation Washingtonian. And my mother said, "This is a good town. You don't have to leave. We've got all four seasons well represented [laughter]. I had no intention of leaving but anyone who knows if you play music they said, "We got to move to New York." But I wasn't moving to New York. There's no way I'm going to New York. That's where everybody seems to go to play music and then to see a band like The Bad Brains and realize they're from Anacostia; come on. And to see them work and to understand like their dedication to their craft was so inspiring to us. So we practiced, and practiced, and practiced. We played for a year. No records. Because at that time making a record was kind of a sellout thing. Because a record is a commodity. Right? So you made a record like what are you trying to do? Make money off of this thing now? Because that was totally the opposite of Punk Rock. You're not supposed to make money. You make shows. You're a point of gathering. It's why we all got together. It's why we're here right now actually. I'm not getting paid for this either by the way; or am I [laughter]? Nope. 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: I'll see you later. Yeah [laughter]. Why this podium by the way [thumping] [laughter]? So we went a year with no record. This is telling. We played here. The first show the Teen Idels ever played outside of Washington, D.C. was in Los Angeles. That's our first tour. Four days on a Greyhound bus. And that shows your commitment to not playing New York. See [laughter]? Because we heard about a punk scene on the west coast we thought was pretty cool and we're like, "Let's go play it." So we booked a show there. It was four of the four band members and two roadies. Two. And the best part about it was we brought a guitar, a base and a pair of drum sticks [laughter]. Why do we have two roadies [laughter]? One of the roadies was Henry Rollins [laughter]. My best friend since 11-years-old. He came with us. So we got to L.A. and we played a show in which we made $15. That's it. And we got there; we assumed -- because that's the way you do -- that the band will let you use the gear. But that's not the way they roll in L.A. We said which gear do we use? They're like, "What are you talking about?" Like, "Well, we just brought our base and guitars." They're like, "You're crazy." We had to beg them and we finally -- they let us use their equipment. And then we went to San Francisco; we made $11 up there. In fact we went to San Francisco, we were on a great bill with the Dead Kennedy's, Flipper and Circle Jerks and the Teen Idels. And we got there [laughter] and the guy who ran the club; Dirk Dirksen of the [inaudible] Gardens dropped us because he didn't like the picture we sent him. He just didn't tell us. We'd been on a bus at that point for five days to play this one show [laughter]. So then some other people -- a friend of ours out there interceded on our behalf and begged him and he finally agreed. Okay, they can play the next night. So we played the New Wave night [laughter] in front of like seven people [laughter]. I remember we played with the Wrong Brothers. Get it? Not the Wright Brothers [laughter]. See? Lost Angeles. That's the kind of bands we were playing with that night. Anyway, I don't mean to digress [laughter]. The point is Teen Idels [laughter]; we played for a year and then we broke up. And we broke up, we saved every dollar we'd ever made and it was in a cigar box. A cigar box which I still have. So when we broke up instead of splitting the money between the four of us; each getting, you know $200 and some dollars, we decided that we would document the music that we had been making because we had recorded a demo tape at [inaudible] Studios in Arlington. It was a keepsake. It was a yearbook. It was evidence of something that was very important to us. So we decided to make a record. I didn't think that anybody would care about it except for our 15 friend -- or 20 friends. But at that time you had to make a minimum of 1,000 records. But we figured why not. Just spend the money and we'll see what happens. You can imagine by the way the interest that labels around the country had in a teenage punk rock band from Washington, D.C. that had broken up [laughter]. I mean people were obviously like, "Why'd you decide to put out your own record?" I'm like, "Are you kidding?" Like no -- there was no interest whatsoever. We didn't exist. There wasn't even -- I mean it wasn't that we weren't on the radar. It just -- we weren't even a part of anything where the word radar could be used [laughter]. It just -- we were non-existent. So we decided to make this record. None of our parents are from the music business. We had no idea how to make a record. So we just asked one friend of ours who had done -- had put out a record and said, "How do you do that?" He said, "Well here's a phone number. Call them." So we called National Record Productions in Nashville, Tennessee and they said just send us a tape and send us a check for $500. Okay. Got a money order, sent it down there. Then we took a -- it's a 7-inch record; we took apart a picture sleeve from England and pulled it apart to see how it was configured. So you can imagine, you know, seven by seven [inaudible] it's 14 inches with a little kind of flaps on the side that fold in. So we just opened it up, we sketched it on an 11 by 17 piece of paper and then we put our own art into that. We just laid it out on there then we took that to a print shop and said, "Can you give us a thousand of these?" Which the guy ran them off -- in a week we picked them up. 11 by 17 pieces of paper with this weird shaped art and then using scissors and glue [laughter], we cut and folded every one of those record sleeves. That is the way Discord Records worked for the first 10,000 records. By hand, cut and folded every one of those sleeves. That my friends is the record industry [laughter]. That is the true record industry. It was incredible to sit with people -- your friends -- and make records together. It was an amazing experience. In the time it took us to make that first record other bands were forming. So we decided that should we actually sell these records -- which we weren't certain we would -- we decided we would use whatever money we made to put out another bands record. Now Henry at that point was singing for a band called S.O.A. ; State of Alert, and he decided that he didn't want for us to wait for us to get the money back so using money he had made being the manager at Hagen Dazs Ice Cream in Georgetown [laughter] where I was one of his employees by the way [laughter]. He paid for his own record and said, "Any money that comes from that can also go towards Discord." At that point it was just on. The decision was on. We were going to document something that was profoundly important to us; that is our scene. The punk scene here in Washington, D.C. And that's how it really began in terms of the collection. The idea that something important was happening that we were part of -- not important necessarily to the world, but important to us. That's it. And I'm not a hoarder, people -- some say, "Are you like a hoarder?" No. I'm not a hoarder. I'm not a collector. Like I don't -- it doesn't give me a thrill to get some, you know, rare -- I don't give a damn about any of that. I really don't. I don't care. However if there's some evidence that something positive, creative or constructive is happening that's moving to me and I like to hand on to that sort of thing. Now it doesn't hurt to be 52-years-old and having all lived in three houses your entire life [laughter] and having keys to all three of them. The house I was raised in, in Grover Park my father and sister still live in. The Discord house I lived for 21 years; that's in Arlington. I own that house. And the house I live in now in Mount Pleasant. So if you don't have to move it's a lot easier to save things. I feel for you all [laughter] holding that clutch of letters right -- I don't know, maybe it's time to say good bye to this thing. Not me [laughter]. I never really said goodbye to those things. Especially letters. Those seem especially important. Our mother always saved her letters and at some point of her life she decided that she would go through the letters from -- like she would keep them by author from her friends and she would go through and with a typewriter she would type up all her favorite sort of sections of the letters. So she made kind of little kind of digest versions of the correspondence and then she would send back the whole bundle of letters to the person. So imagine being a steady pen pal, you know, for years and then 30 years later getting a bundle of your letters in your handwriting. It's kind of cool. My friends have something to look forward to. I can do the same thing. Should I take questions? What do you think? Or should I just keep on going here? Have I answered any? Have I talked about the archive thing yet [laughter]? All right I'll say -- well let me say one more thing about the archiving spirit. Because I think it's maybe a blood prob- -- a blood thing here. My father's mother -- my grandmother Dorothy Disney -- Dorothy Mackaye. Her pen name was Disney. She wrote a column for the ladies home journal called "Can This Marriage Be Saved?" It was one of the earliest advice columns. It was essentially a column where she would interview a man and a woman who were having a difficult -- difficulty in their marriage and then a counselor who would weigh in on their problems. It was -- I mean there was trick -- it was a trick thing. You see 3/10 of it had already been sorted out but it was a way of -- you know, it was interesting. Like she was writing these columns up and she started to -- at some point when -- she did shorthand of course but at some point when tapes, cassette tapes especially came into use she started using those the way -- she used to record the conversations. I don't think she used them to listen to. I think she actually relied mostly on her short hand. But she kept the tapes and I keep coming across boxes of tapes of these people and they're like in the 1969, 1970 talking about like all the hassles it is. You know? All the hassles they're having. How their husbands balling somebody or [laughter] you know. That's '60's slang for having sex people [laughter]. Thanks to my sister for laughing [laughter]. At some point my grandmother made a very strange decision that she wasn't just going to tape these interviews with these people. She was just going to tape everything. So I have tapes of my grandmother in the back of a taxi cab, lost in Los Angeles, screaming at the taxi driver [laughter]. At one point the taxi driver's saying, "You sound like my father [laughter]." She goes, "Well your father must have been very disappointed in you [laughter]." I have tapes of my grandmother -- I have a series of tapes called "Dorothy Works the Phones" [laughter]. She would tape her phone calls and I have tapes of my grandmother talking to me when I'm 12 driving me crazy. Like just working me. Just -- you can hear -- and now that I actually have -- like you can hear -- like she -- my grandmother did not drive so she was always trying to figure out ways to get people to give her rides places. And I mean once I got a driver's license I was on the list [laughter]. But now that I hear these tapes; I always suspected that she was up to something but now I have proof. Because I can hear her calling different people, going down the list of people and getting to me and giving me the story and going, "Okay, like it's 8:00 in the morning." Like, "Are you still sleeping?" Of course I'm asleep. I'm 16. You know [laughter]? Anyway I have these -- all these tapes and then our mother also starting running tapes. Just tapes. She'd just run tapes in the house [laughter]. Just her playing cards [laughter]. I think the original idea was she had this idea -- she and her friend has this idea that they were going to -- do you know what Scategories is [laughter]? The game? It's a tile game like Scrabble. But they had this idea -- or no I'm sorry, Anagrams not Scategories. Anagrams, that's the one. That's the tile game. And she and her friend had come up with this idea they were going to invent noiseless anagrams [laughter]. And noiseless anagrams was basically Anagrams or Scrabble like tiles but like on cardboard so they don't clack. That was it [laughter]. So then they thought they would [laughter] -- in their product development [laughter] they would also include in the package recordings of what a noiseless anagrams game would sound like. See [laughter]? So she just ran tapes. But a lot of those tapes just have kids -- we just walked in and out of the house because the tape recorder was just on. [Laughter] So there's just something about the sort of documentation these moments that are really nice and do -- and there's also like tapes of them -- tapes of my parents arguing. You know, there's really interesting things. Things that most people like, you know, my mom died in 2004 and up until that point I remember going into that house, coming in the house and she would turn -- like I'd come over to play cards and she's put on -- she had a little Panasonic tape deck and she would hit play/record and we would just talk. At some point you don't even notice it. I'm not you know thinking about it. I used to think that's really nice. Like mom -- you know because I was traveling a lot. I said, "Mom," I said, "Listen to me." She likes to listen to her kids. You know, it's a nice way for her to spend time with us. It was not for her [laughter]. It was for us. When she died I was like, "Oh I get it. It's for us." Like these tapes -- to hear her voice is fascinating. To hear here in just general conversation; really nice. It's a nice thing. I have a lot of friends who -- whose parents have died and they say -- it occurs to them, "Oh, I'll never hear their voice again." This has changed I think now with the perverted amount of documentation that's going on. The fact that everyone is carrying a documenting module in their pocket. But still, it's something that these tapes they're really -- they're -- it's incredible to have these things and I'm slowly in the process of digitizing those, as well. I have a lot of projects. Too many projects. Let's take a question. Who has a question? Yeah. Wow, that was fast [laughter]. 

 A very young Mick Jagger said that it would be ridiculous for him to be playing "I can't get no satisfaction" when he was an old geezer in his 40's [inaudible]. But some people feel like Rock and [inaudible] are like a young person's game. Has your musical tastes and attitudes changed significantly since you were like in your 20's and your Punk days? 

 Ian Mackaye: Did you all hear the question? 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: I'll repeat the question. Starting off by talking about Mick Jagger singing -- saying that in his 30's or 40's that he would -- that it would be ridiculous to be singing "I can't get no satisfaction" in his 60's or 70's and now seeing that he's actually on tour the question brings up that many people think of Rock music as a young person's form. Is that a fair -- some of that. Do I -- have my tastes changed as I've gotten older? My favorite kind of music is music made by people who don't have a choice in the matter. So Punk for me is still relevant. Like the stuff I cut my teeth on. But so of course is Jimmi Hendrix and Janice Joplin as I mentioned. Nia Simone, [inaudible] Cudi; like this is music -- I'm interested in music coming from -- and it doesn't really make a difference what it sounds like in terms of the genre. Well let me -- I feel like the music beyond the racking designations, music beyond what the Stones or Mick Jagger whatever he was trying to -- you know whatever he was trying to do when he was doing this press conference or answering this questions -- whatever he was selling beyond all that -- like music is something that is far more profound and far more sacred. Music is a form of communication that predates language. That's how I look at it. So in my mind like the music industry has cheapened music, because they want you to think like -- what's the new thing to listen to. Because that would then compel you to buy new records. I don't buy a lot of new records. I have not bought a lot of new records in the last 30 years. I mostly study music that I'm pulled to because I'm interested in not what's being sold to me by the media but rather what I trip across is my exploration, my spelunking. Right? I'm interested in that. I like to go into the cave and find things. Every once in a while some -- and usually if you are -- if you are sort of involving yourself and people who are also in this sort of same sphere of the search then you get tips. You know people send you things. The internet in some ways is an incredible gift of that because finally there's access to so much music, you know, that is out there you can hear things that you've only ever heard about. I do like that. I don't like that aspect of that. I like the fact that it's freedom from the tyranny of the record industry. It's a good moment right now to point this out that I always ask this question. What is it that record labels sell? I can ask you all what is the answer to that? What is it a record label sells? What are they selling? Any guesses? 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: What's that? 

 It's almost like a brand. 

 Ian Mackaye: Brand. Any... 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: Any thoughts over here? 

 Products. 

 Ian Mackaye: Products? Any other? 

 [Inaudible] escape. 

 Ian Mackaye: Escape, experience. 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: Here's my rap. Record labels sell plastic. 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: That's what they sell. They're not evil. They're not bad. I had a record label. Record labels sell plastic. The plastic they sell has become more attractive to you or to the buyer because of the information that has been infused into it. It's essentially the same as jumping between like you have a baseball cap that's blank or one that has the Washington Nationals W on it. You know? Why are you paying more for that? It's because the hat maker in theory at least has paid to have the rights to putting this W on that hat. So essentially what record companies are selling is plastic. That's what they have been selling for a 100 years. I heard a fascinating interview with a guy named Dave Alvin from the Gears in L.A. -- an early L.A. band who said that record players start out like pieces of furniture but furniture companies were making them, and that they started making records as a way to get people to want to have this attractive piece of furniture which was the phonograph into their house. That gives you an idea of the role music has always been consigned to. The shill, the thing that is selling the product as opposed to sort of the point. Record labels sell plastic and the reason I know this -- why I'm so sure about it is that the stuff they want to sell is the stuff that has to sell the most. If it doesn't sell enough they drop it. They're not interested in the level of the music. They say that's a steal. Do you think that all these greatest song -- the bestselling records are the best songs? Come on [laughter]. Unlikely [laughter]. I don't think this is bad by the way. I'm not saying this is evil. I'm just saying it's just something to think about. So if you back away from that. You realize that music was here before the record industry by a long shot -- by a long time; thousands and thousands of years. If you're with me you don't believe in creationism. You know? You think that like all right, thousands and thousands, and thousands of people have been making music -- there's never -- you're never able to bottle it before. It wasn't until electricity came alone they figure out a way to make a product. At that point they enjoyed the 100 year monopoly. Then the internet came along and screwed things up for them. But there's still trying to figure out how to wreck the tool -- the tool booths. And they'll do it because they've got Congress on their side. It's just for those of us who don't want to engage in that to figure out how to get around their silly tool booths. You had a question sir? 

 Yes. You mentioned that everyone has this pocket documenter. Like it's available instantaneously after a moment [inaudible]. [Inaudible] documentation? Do you feel like that wears down the value? 

 Ian Mackaye: I think that it -- you are -- did you hear the question? Oh, you want me to repeat the question. Okay. I mentioned earlier that everybody has a pocket documenter which is of course the telephone thing, the cell phone thing. Do -- now that it's -- everyone can do it does he -- the question is do I think that it waters down the -- how would you describe it? 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: The value of documentation. I think that what it does is it increases the interference of documentation in the moment. I think that people are constantly thinking about capturing things. They're not actually present for the things they're trying to capture. I'm quite sure of this. I also think its insane how many pictures have to be taken these days [laughter]. I've got into a situation now -- you know when I play a show with The Evens and in this show I sell records. And I'm happy to have a chat with everybody. Like tonight, afterwards I'm sure I'll say hello to everybody if they want to say hi I'll say hi. But I talk to people. I like talking to them and then the question; dude can I just get a picture of me and you? I'm like, "Oh, let's hold off on that." Because I will be there for an hour and a half taking pictures of me going like this [laughter]. Something's wrong [laughter], something is very wrong. I do think there's -- I'm not sure if it is lessened the value -- I mean true documentation, the fact you have a way to record something at the moment that it's happening; that's pretty incredible. So there's actually -- I've been thinking about this. Like some of the stuff -- like -- do you sort of see like -- my God, there's a [inaudible] picture of that. That's crazy that somebody actually had a picture of that. You know if you think about historical events and not always bad ones. I understand why people immediately think explosion or whatever. But I'm just saying just down the road you think about historically you would read about something that happened and -- my God, I wonder what that looked like? But now you don't have to wonder. Because it -- if you're not taking the picture, the government is [laughter]. Right? They're [noises] -- they're filming us all the time. So it does -- it's a weird time. All I can -- I have to say that we just have to hold our noses I think. We just have to just realize that there's a level of documentation that is just like -- it's just a chattering. It's just like this like noise and that beyond that people who are truly documenting are going to figure out a way to puncture that. I am concerned about what is called documentaries these days. I find the current form of video documentaries to be very disturbing. Because they have narrative arcs and I don't think life has a narrative arc. It has many narrative arcs. So when I see documentaries where I -- my emotions are being pulled and I'm being pulled through this like -- and then this happened and then this happened. I -- you know, du, du, dah. And you're like, come on. This is crazy. If you look at early documentaries there's no narration at all. It's like here's a camera, here's what -- here's like -- here's what's going on, experience, figure it out. That seems to me to be -- that trusts the viewers to engage on some kind of intellectual level. I have seen documentaries in which I am a part of or my story is connected to and I can tell you that it may be a history but it's not my history. For instance, I think that a lot of the Punk Rock stuff when I hear like the narrative about the Punk Rock experience whatever -- and this is American -- the American Punk Rock experience -- there's a lot of credit given to Ronald Regan. Ronald Regan gets no credit at all from me [laughter] period. You know? The only thing that he did that was really -- pretty notable -- I mean I could go through a long list of things but he somehow defied the Indian curse. Does anybody here know about the Indian curse? I think it was Andrew Jackson that was messing with the Indians and they said okay, that's it. Every president elected in a year ending in zero is going to die in office. And they did starting I think with -- who's 1840? Anybody here? Come on. 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: It's the Library of Congress [laughter]. All right, 1860. Lincoln. Right? Lincoln died in office. 1880, Garfield? 

 Garfield. 

 Ian Mackaye: Died in office. 1900? McKinley; died in office. 1920... 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: That was before -- we've been through this. That's my father [laughter]. [Inaudible]. He predates the curse [laughter]. 1920? 

 Hardy. 

 Ian Mackaye: It was Hardy. He died in office. Right? 1940, Roosevelt died in office. 1960? Kennedy died in office. 1980? Regan, he got shot but he lived. He broke the curse [laughter]. Thank you very much. No, [laughter]. That's why we're here. We want to talk -- anyway [laughter]. I don't know why I told you that story. Oh, you know why I was telling that story is because [laughter] it's a faux narrative. This idea that Regan came along we're like, "No, we're going to form Punk Rock bands." That's not what happened [laughter]. Yes sir? 

 I remember I think about a year ago I was reading a piece by Henry Rolling's and Henry was saying that you and he had a visit here in the Library of Congress, a visit of the music archives. Since we're here today and I'll see them, I was curious if you could give us your thoughts upon your visit and what kinds of things you saw. 

 Ian Mackaye: Sure. The question is he had come across an article that -- written by Henry Rollins for the L.A. Weekly in which he discussed our visit to the Library of Congress -- was it last year or a couple years ago? I don't recall. Yes, that happened and what are my thoughts about the visit? Well as I mentioned I was born and raised in this town. I had never set foot in the Library of Congress ever [mumbling]. Isn't it crazy [laughter]? Because you know for me Capitol Hill, it might as well be Boston. I still -- I'm like from the other part of town. I just don't -- I just don't know. I've never come down here. I don't have any -- I feel no connection really to the federal government at all. It's like the big factory in town. No offense to the -- any of you all who work for the government. I'm just saying I've never felt a connection. My parents were not government people. My dad was a newspaper man. You know, like I just didn't -- I just never felt a connection to it. But then a friend of mine who works in the book repair department; she invited me down. She had worked with me on my archives which is probably the reason we're here actually. And she invited me down and it was pretty incredible. I have to say I was pretty blown away to see their craft. I mean I never thought about this but these books get wrecked. So every day there's just crates and crates of wrecked books being sent down to this little shop in the corner of this building and these people are working away putting them back together and doing it very well. Then I got to go look into rare books repair room. They have some old books in there [laughter]. And I remember there was a book -- Susan -- do you remember... 

 [Inaudible response]. 

 Ian Mackaye: Susan B. Anthony; that's right. Susan B. Anthony had given a book of like -- like a Merck Manual kind of book to a friend, and she inscribed in it and said like, "You know, I don't know; this works for me. Check it out." I mean essentially that was the tone of her inscription. And like our mother handed out the Merck Manual all the time. Like here, check it out. This is my -- yeah, look it up for yourself. And I was really -- when I saw that I was -- it really -- it was humanizing. I got it. Susan B. Anthony; she's not just a coin now. Right [laughter]? Then we took a walk around to the downstairs and I realized it's like a city here. There are a lot of people work in this building. A lot. And they have -- in the basement they have these long tunnels that has a railing between -- along the middle of it. One side is for the people who are allowed to go on there. The other side is for the people that are not allowed to go -- the special lane. The special lane is for the -- I guess the guys who move stuff. That sound about right? 

 [Multiple speakers]. 

 Ian Mackaye: The guys who push things and -- but it's definitely split. You're not crossing that barrier [laughter]. The other thing; I met Butch on that visit. He's upstairs collecting every webpage in the history of the world [laughter]. Then when Henry came to town I said, "Hey, do you want to go down to the Library of Congress?" He said, "Yeah, let's -- I'd love that." Because he also -- I think he had been in the reading room but he had never been in the bowels. So we had a really -- it was great. Went to the music -- I went to the music room the first time too. It was great, fascinating. I want to go to Culpeper. Very interesting. Very nice to meet people who work here because I don't -- I had no -- I really had no clue what goes on down here. And it's a little overwhelming. Even this particular talk --