It was International Workers’ Day on Saturday and the official release day of Lyzasoft’s latest product: its foray into “free.” It’s a good way to say “power to the people.”

Some people associate that slogan with protests and even violence. But I think the best paths to power usually involve well-analyzed data, whether in public life or at work. Now the Little Guy has a potent new tool to deploy.

Lyzasoft founder Scott Davis calls Lyza on Lyza Commons “the YouTube of data.” This fully functional cloud-based version of Lyza is a strong tool for office-based, home-based, cubbyhole-based, dorm-based, or public library wifi-based users and groups. Import your data from whatever sources you have, refine it, share it with to whomever you like, and even charge toll over Paypal if you want to.

“Obviously,” Scott says, “what we’re doing is saying, ‘This thing can scale.’ But instead of going for the uber-enterprise as our leading play, we’re saying that what’s unique about this technology is it can make it to everybody within a small and medium business without having to have a big IT team around.”

Lyzasoft’s second, paid tier serves customers who need private clouds. That version starts at “small” for $150 a month, seating up to 10 users and providing “plenty” of storage. Go upward through “medium” and into “large,” and you pay $2500 a month for up to 200 users.

Wait, you say. You’ve heard this “YouTube of data” thing before. Yes, just three months ago another YouTube of data launched, Tableau Public. (I wrote about it here.) Tableau, Lyza, and YouTube itself all say “power to the people” by popularizing a medium with free, easy-to-use tools and a venue. Each one’s growing crowd of Little Guys and their audiences turns into a movement that the those in executive suites can’t help but notice. At some point, YouTube and those who follow its model hope that “free” leads enough customers to “ka-ching” to yield a profit.

YouTube seems to be well on the way. Its ready-to-roll movie theater had fired the imaginations in a waiting mob. These filmmakers-to-be had been trained over years of TV and movies to understand film and crave a chance to do their own.

Is there a waiting mob of would-be data analysts? One pioneer of free analytics is skeptical. LucidEra founder Ken Rudin, now vice president of analytics at Zynga, says you need more than free tools, no matter how easy the tools are to use. He says, “Tools are only as valuable as the questions you ask.” One of his biggest hurdles was getting customers to appreciate the possibilities of analytics.

But the YouTube idea is more than tools. It’s a game and a self-reinforcing mob. The tiny films YouTube users make don’t just play as if on a jukebox, they’re scored, they’re answered, and commented on. It’s like the difference between voting in a little booth and going out on a street march. It reinforces and stimulates. Unlike most business environments, it asks people to play, which is how Lyza Commons and Tableau Public users will break out into creative and incisive data analysis.

I also hope there’s a new supply of analysts. Ken Rudin and others are hungry for them. (In fact, if you’re a data analyst and you want to work with cutting-edge technology and data in one of the world’s largest databases, email Ken today at krudin@zynga.com.)

Power to the data analysts!

I’m sorry to tell you serious types out there, but visual analysis is often a game — in fact, one of the best games in town with Tableau Software’s visual analysis tool. Now Tableau Public is going to bring it to the masses.

In the same way that YouTube spawned a surge of new filmmakers, Tableau Public — free, running the same engine as its desktop sibling, and embedable — will bring on a new generation of data players and spectators.

I was a spectator at a data visualization conference one afternoon two years ago. Tableau Software director of visual analysis Jock Mackinlay had finished his presentation and another person had started his. Yet someone at the control board forgot to flip a switch, and Jock’s live screen remained on one of the room’s big screens. Jock assumed his screen had been hidden, and he kept playing with the data. I don’t have to tell you who seemed to have the audience’s attention until someone pointed out the problem.

The mere visual distraction was minor. Even without narration, I got caught up in the apparent drama as he tried one look at the data after another.

Not long after that, I wondered aloud to someone at Tableau about data hobbyists. I imagined people who foraged for data to analyze then publicize it to start conversations, collaboration, or duels. Data would be their raw material of choice just as scrap metal is to some sculptors or overheard conversations is to some fiction writers.

There was no such community visible then. But I realized this week that I know one now: Dan Murray, a skilled, dedicated Tableau user. He jokes that he’s a “freak” because he analyzes data from the federal budget and posts his often provocative analyses. He’s already been answered by at least one who disagrees with him.

In beta and since its February 11 launch, Tableau Public has hosted a flurry of visualizations, including these: a map of top venture capital firms investments by U.S. region; a chart showing how long it takes to build a technology empire; a history of earthquakes in Haiti; a neighborhood breakdown of housing supply in Seattle; trends in U.S. high school graduation; and studies of deprivation and marginalization in education. In most cases, spectators can become players by selecting subsets of the data to find answers to their own questions.

With popularity comes some misuse. Many of the charts will break rules, such as what happens in another kind of game, YouTube. A New York film editor I know complains that many YouTube-acculturated film editors have neglected basic editing principles. She writes that they rely so much on special effects that they “can’t put two shots together and have them work as an unembellished edit.” On Tableau Public, there will be pie charts, chart junk, and even baselines that do not start at zero. We’ll survive it.

But what’s all this got to do with the very serious practice of business intelligence?

Like monks must have done when printing presses began producing books for the masses, many priests of business intelligence will stand aside, arms folded in the aspe chapel. But I predict that before long even they will appreciate a wider, deeper pool of analytical talent ripening for training and employment.

I suspect that the new bunch will have been sharpened by the give and take of public exposition. They’ll also learn from playing in a huge community the way artists and craftspeople of all kinds improve their skills when they bump into peers every day.

This is a new clue for the future of BI. It can’t help but improve data analysis in business. So let the games begin.

In the film “Night on Earth,” Italian comic Roberto Benigni plays a taxi driver tooling around Rome one August morning at four. His flag’s up, he’s bored, and the streets are empty. “Dove sono i romani?” he asks himself, “Where are all the Romans?”

Where were all the BI people last week? Did they all go to Munich or Tehran? Or were they just resting up for the recovery?

Then I checked Twitter. Many of them had been there all the time. Still, I was bored.

Then on Saturday, Ken Rudin’s email came in announcing his new address. On Monday, LucidEra’s sad news.

At 4 on recent mornings, I suppose LucidEra execs were wide awake and staring into the dark. Mark Madsen emailed that he had an inkling, but I was surprised. This wasn’t supposed to happen. LucidEra was one of the interesting companies, one of the bright lights. In January, I had written a column for TDWI about possible expansion of the Pipeline Healthcheck. Others would go down, but not them.

On the other hand, it was a startup. They often fail, especially now. And I’m sure that chief marketing officer and co-founder Rudin and vice president of marketing Darren Cunningham will land well.

The movie is more fun. Someone finally hails the cab, a priest. The driver feels no reverence. He invents a long “confession” to amuse himself, and it works so well on the drive across town that he doesn’t notice the priest’s fatal heart attack.