If you're not successful, you've got to change something.
In 1994, I was broke, single and sans a parent. Let me restate that. I sometimes had less than $20 in the bank, my wife who I was not divorced from had moved out four and a half years earlier, and in the interim my dad had died and I had an horrific operation.
I was at rock bottom.
And that's when I went to the shrink.
How did I pay? With the 20k I got from my father's estate. If you're saving it for a rainy day, if you're not investing in your future, if you're not spending, you're dying.
And I found out the problem was me.
The problem was not my work product.
There were two main issues. I let my haters define me and I didn't know how to interact with people.
Huh? It's not like I'd just been born, I'd been living for decades... I knew how to talk, to write, what was the problem?
I didn't know how to be a member of the group. I didn't know how to make it about anything but business. I was so worried I was gonna get screwed that I couldn't relax. All business is relationships, and I was not doing such a hot job.
Now I was not doing a terrible job. But if you have big dreams, you've got to tweak the formula.
Even if I knew the answer, I learned to not always volunteer it. Because I found out there's a bunch of people who don't want to be wrong. Never ever. If you correct them, they're alienated from you, and that might work against you...for years.
I stopped worrying about money and just tried to be friends. Because desperation is the biggest turn-off of all. Everybody runs from it. As soon as you start complaining, people have got no time for you.
But that does not mean I sublimated my personality completely. I learned to stand up to pricks. That's who you often encounter at the pinnacle of business. Bullies who are doing their best to shove you down. And the only way you can neutralize them is to not only disagree, but amp it up just like they do. Then they respect you, they realize you know how to play the game.
And it's much more complicated than that. And I'm still learning. But one thing I'll state definitively. There was never ever anything wrong with the writing. I'll stand by it. The problem was with the penumbra.
Now that does not mean your music is good enough. But if it is, and you're stuck, the problem is you. And you have to figure out what it is and change it. And it's a painful process. But you rise through the ranks when you improve your identity and interactions, it's a magic potion that always works.
Don't bitch about Spotify payouts if you make no money selling music. The people who do will just laugh at you. Because everybody on the inside knows the pot is split up many ways, and the only way to make money is to be in the game a very long time. So you can renegotiate and make better deals.
Don't harangue people. It never works. You need favors. And by inundating and badgering you're just pissing people off.
Wanna know the dirty little secret? IT'S A BUSINESS! Want to get ahead, figure out a way for the intermediary to make money on you.
You complain that no one will book you. Venues are dying for acts that can sell out the house. Convince a promoter you'll make him money and he's all ears.
Ditto with agents and labels. Stop telling people how good you are, no one cares. They just want to know if you can make them money, preferably sooner rather than later.
And unless you're my friend, don't expect me to treat you like one. Friendship is earned, and the more successful you are the less time you have got, especially for those further down the economic food chain. The president of the label does not want to go to dinner with the wannabe, doesn't even want to listen to your record, they pay people to do that, because they just don't have enough time.
So the system is rigged against you. Welcome to the club! Everybody wants to be in entertainment, they're willing to work for free. And execs lose their jobs and agents and managers lose their acts, there is no safety net.
Wanna get ahead? Don't try to make friends with those at the top unless you can make them money right away, as stated above. Make friends with people at your level. Those who have time for you, who can do you favors.
And only ask for a favor if you've got something you can give in return. Because favors are expensive. Everybody can't deliver for everybody all the time. This is why the scions of the rich will get a hearing from the exec. Because of who their parents are. But if you're bitching about this, I feel sorry for you, because most of the people in the entertainment game are self-starters, and tons of the connected wash out early, they're not hungry enough, or talented enough, and they lack perseverance.
So don't e-mail me you put in your 10,000 hours, especially if you've never read Malcolm Gladwell's "Outliers," which popularized the term. Hell, did you read his column on the topic last week?
"COMPLEXITY AND THE TEN-THOUSAND-HOUR RULE": http://nyr.kr/1d2z7EJ
You not only have to have skills, you've got to know the rules, you've got to study the game. A great hitter is useless if he doesn't know what base to run to, that he only gets three strikes, that four balls will put him on first. There's more info than ever out there on how the game works. If you wanna work in the industry you should know who all the players are, where they started out, where they're going. It's a lot of work, but everybody with a gig made this effort, it's second nature to them.
And sheer will and desire only goes so far. Sure, you've got to believe you're great, but there's a whole hell of a lot more that goes into success.
So be humble, look inside, keep adjusting your game.
Or sit on the sidelines with the rest of the losers playing the woulda, coulda, shoulda game with a chip on your shoulder.
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Saturday 24 August 2013
Rhinofy-Dance To The Music
And I don't even like to dance.
So it's late Sunday night and we're cruising down the 101 listening to Sixties on 6 and...
All these years later Sylvester Stewart has become a joke. Living in his van, bleaching his hair, still not showing up for gigs or if he does appearing ever so briefly we focus on the antics and not the music. Kind of like Brian Wilson. But even though Brian can no longer hit the notes, he can still write, as evidenced by some of the tracks on last year's Beach Boys album "That's Why God Made the Radio."
But once upon a time, both Brian and Sly dominated the airwaves.
And it all started for Sly & The Family Stone with "Dance To The Music."
An economical three minutes, so different from today's era where dance tracks go on for a quarter hour, sometimes indefinitely, "Dance To The Music" is the antidote to all those overblown productions wherein the artist considers himself an auteur and nothing can be excised, all of his brain farts must be included.
Talk about an intro... Today everybody says to wait, hang in there, give it time. But those horns immediately get your attention, and then there's a thin Steve Cropper guitar line and the whole thing breaks down and it seems they're singing in tongues and it's still just a matter of seconds when they begin singing the chorus, yes, this is a famous inverted, reverse song.
And then the track breaks down again, as the instruments are introduced.
First comes the drummer, for people who only need a beat. And like Ringo on "Abbey Road," the solo is neither overbaked nor overdone, it's simple and straightforward, so right. Because it's about the beat, not the flourish.
And then the guitar, which makes it easy to move your feet.
And then comes a peak. The bottom. Sly reaches down into his vocal range to announce an instrument which is so fat and oozy it sounds like industrial equipment come along to mow you down.
And then the organ!
If you can sit still while the notes are emanating from the instrument you're comatose. This is the baby boomer moment, when even those of us who categorically refuse to dance lift our hands in the air and play along, touching those keys as we shimmy and shake in our seats.
Cynthia?
Jerry!
They're friends! A band! Not hired hands! They're drumming and blowing and this is the message, how great it is to play, how great it is to be alive. There's more energy pumping through the dashboard than there is under the hood.
And then the whole thing breaks down completely, goes from intense to subtle, from instrumental to vocal, and then with a final flourish it's done.
It's like the circus came to town for three minutes and then was gone.
Huh?
I wanna go back!
That's what makes someone buy a record, the need to have that hit of adrenaline, that pure life experience once again.
And one element in "Dance To The Music" absent from so much of the hit parade today is joy.
You know joy. Fun with abandon, with no self-conscious feelings, it's what we strive for. It's not about pleasing the judge, it's not about getting it right, rather it's about pure expression!
It was all bastardized in the Mariah Carey era. Wherein it became more about control, about demonstration than letting go for the sake of it. The judges on those TV shows should stop giving their advice and just play the contestants "Dance To The Music."
Sly lost it to drugs.
But it's hard to maintain your purchase on reality when you get it so right, when you're so adored.
One day you were unknown, with dreams. You believed in yourself and thought you could do it, but then you found out everybody agreed, that there were no naysayers, you were exalted.
Where do you go from there?
That's what happened to Stevie Wonder.
That's what happened to Sly Stone.
And they can't come back. Because the circumstances will never be the same. The hunger, the desire, the youth.
But we still have these recorded artifacts to blow our minds.
Spotify link: http://spoti.fi/p6HcZ8
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So it's late Sunday night and we're cruising down the 101 listening to Sixties on 6 and...
All these years later Sylvester Stewart has become a joke. Living in his van, bleaching his hair, still not showing up for gigs or if he does appearing ever so briefly we focus on the antics and not the music. Kind of like Brian Wilson. But even though Brian can no longer hit the notes, he can still write, as evidenced by some of the tracks on last year's Beach Boys album "That's Why God Made the Radio."
But once upon a time, both Brian and Sly dominated the airwaves.
And it all started for Sly & The Family Stone with "Dance To The Music."
An economical three minutes, so different from today's era where dance tracks go on for a quarter hour, sometimes indefinitely, "Dance To The Music" is the antidote to all those overblown productions wherein the artist considers himself an auteur and nothing can be excised, all of his brain farts must be included.
Talk about an intro... Today everybody says to wait, hang in there, give it time. But those horns immediately get your attention, and then there's a thin Steve Cropper guitar line and the whole thing breaks down and it seems they're singing in tongues and it's still just a matter of seconds when they begin singing the chorus, yes, this is a famous inverted, reverse song.
And then the track breaks down again, as the instruments are introduced.
First comes the drummer, for people who only need a beat. And like Ringo on "Abbey Road," the solo is neither overbaked nor overdone, it's simple and straightforward, so right. Because it's about the beat, not the flourish.
And then the guitar, which makes it easy to move your feet.
And then comes a peak. The bottom. Sly reaches down into his vocal range to announce an instrument which is so fat and oozy it sounds like industrial equipment come along to mow you down.
And then the organ!
If you can sit still while the notes are emanating from the instrument you're comatose. This is the baby boomer moment, when even those of us who categorically refuse to dance lift our hands in the air and play along, touching those keys as we shimmy and shake in our seats.
Cynthia?
Jerry!
They're friends! A band! Not hired hands! They're drumming and blowing and this is the message, how great it is to play, how great it is to be alive. There's more energy pumping through the dashboard than there is under the hood.
And then the whole thing breaks down completely, goes from intense to subtle, from instrumental to vocal, and then with a final flourish it's done.
It's like the circus came to town for three minutes and then was gone.
Huh?
I wanna go back!
That's what makes someone buy a record, the need to have that hit of adrenaline, that pure life experience once again.
And one element in "Dance To The Music" absent from so much of the hit parade today is joy.
You know joy. Fun with abandon, with no self-conscious feelings, it's what we strive for. It's not about pleasing the judge, it's not about getting it right, rather it's about pure expression!
It was all bastardized in the Mariah Carey era. Wherein it became more about control, about demonstration than letting go for the sake of it. The judges on those TV shows should stop giving their advice and just play the contestants "Dance To The Music."
Sly lost it to drugs.
But it's hard to maintain your purchase on reality when you get it so right, when you're so adored.
One day you were unknown, with dreams. You believed in yourself and thought you could do it, but then you found out everybody agreed, that there were no naysayers, you were exalted.
Where do you go from there?
That's what happened to Stevie Wonder.
That's what happened to Sly Stone.
And they can't come back. Because the circumstances will never be the same. The hunger, the desire, the youth.
But we still have these recorded artifacts to blow our minds.
Spotify link: http://spoti.fi/p6HcZ8
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Friday 23 August 2013
USA Pro Cycling Challenge
Greetings from Vail, Colorado, where the world's elite bicycle racers are engaged in a time trial from the Village to the top of the Pass. And you don't care.
But so many do.
European sports are invading America. With football challenged by head injuries and baseball the land of drug-addled stars the passive life of the USA is on decline, at least in sports, now it's all about participating.
If Michelle Obama really wanted to eradicate obesity in America she'd take kids to a bike race or an extreme sports competition, because once you attend the excitement inspires you to participate. Furthermore, the echo boomers are all about participation, that's the essence of extreme sports, it's about the camaraderie as opposed to the victory. You don't want to sit in the stands, you want to play!
Hmm...
Live long enough and you see the landscape change.
Used to be you were limited to the information provided on the scoreboard, people went to the game and listened to the radio. But the first thing you do when you go to an event today is download the app, with more facts and figures than any one person can digest. Always free, the app is your guide, technology rules.
And the more data you have, the greater your understanding.
They said apps were going to be a profit center, turned out they were just helpers to something bigger. And that something bigger usually grows over time.
There was a bike race in Colorado in the seventies. It was too early. The public wasn't fatigued by mainstream sports, and baby boomers were all about winning, and if there wasn't a famous name, they weren't interested.
But then ESPN blasted the Tour de France to American homes. Lance Armstrong won. And people started to pay attention.
In football/soccer, TV came last. One can argue that "Bend It Like Beckham" got the mania started in America, that's the power of art. And pair that with celebrity, Mr. Beckham himself, and suddenly kids would rather play soccer than Little League and there's actual traction with the MLS.
And add in a dash of Title IX, which got the women participating. Soccer was boosted by the incredible US women's teams. And women riders populate the bike paths too.
And yet the focus is still on the old sports. But how many people do you see throwing a ball? Drive up PCH on a Saturday and you'll be wowed by the endless peloton, a miles-long line of bike riders of all shapes and sizes.
And the USA Pro Cycling Championship works because of its difficulty. The climbs. The altitude. This is not for pussies.
And active Coloradans are drawn to the zenith of a sport so many participate in.
And there are sponsors and payments and it all adds to the circus of stimulation. You feel like you're where it's happening, at this intersection of sports and commerce.
But don't confuse this with art.
Sports are about the body. Art is about the mind.
In other words, how many famous athletes have made it as musicians? And vice versa? These are two different skills. And their melding together by entrepreneurs has been to the detriment of music. A rider is an almost inert item, a musician is not. If a rider is plastered with the patches of his sponsor, it's evidence of his ability to turn his skill and devotion into cash, if the artist does so it evidences the fact that he's sold out.
Why is it that Neil Young and the Eagles refuse to take money from corporations yet every youngster is eager to? Don't tell me it's because there's less money in it, or that times have changed, I'll just say they're different people. Just like baseball players and bicycle riders are different people. The artists of yore stood outside the game, today's are deeply in it, to their and their audience's detriment.
So you wonder why sports eclipse art.
It's because of the interior goals.
The people making music today are wholly different from those who were successful doing so in the classic rock era. The stars of yore were misfits going down the only avenue that could fulfill them and get them laid. They were beaten up in school, if they didn't drop out completely. Today's musicians are members of the club, who want the adulation and riches of sports stars.
But we've established that they're completely different types.
So the end result is when you go to the show and you see the plastering of advertisements it detracts from the experience, it turns the event into pure commerce as opposed to a religious experience.
And when you go to the bike race you feel like you're at the advent of something new and exciting and that the sponsorships demonstrate the entire enterprise is on the way up and you're in on the ground floor.
Oh what a crazy world we live in.
P.S. The participation culture has invaded music too. With new technological tools more people are making music. The fact that they expect it to be successful is a head-scratcher, since they would never expect to top the podium at the sporting event, especially without years of training, peppered with loss as well as victory.
http://www.usaprocyclingchallenge.com
Stage 5 Vail: http://bit.ly/14fo70Y
USA Pro Cycling Challenge Tour Tracker: http://bit.ly/1d1ZIBQ
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But so many do.
European sports are invading America. With football challenged by head injuries and baseball the land of drug-addled stars the passive life of the USA is on decline, at least in sports, now it's all about participating.
If Michelle Obama really wanted to eradicate obesity in America she'd take kids to a bike race or an extreme sports competition, because once you attend the excitement inspires you to participate. Furthermore, the echo boomers are all about participation, that's the essence of extreme sports, it's about the camaraderie as opposed to the victory. You don't want to sit in the stands, you want to play!
Hmm...
Live long enough and you see the landscape change.
Used to be you were limited to the information provided on the scoreboard, people went to the game and listened to the radio. But the first thing you do when you go to an event today is download the app, with more facts and figures than any one person can digest. Always free, the app is your guide, technology rules.
And the more data you have, the greater your understanding.
They said apps were going to be a profit center, turned out they were just helpers to something bigger. And that something bigger usually grows over time.
There was a bike race in Colorado in the seventies. It was too early. The public wasn't fatigued by mainstream sports, and baby boomers were all about winning, and if there wasn't a famous name, they weren't interested.
But then ESPN blasted the Tour de France to American homes. Lance Armstrong won. And people started to pay attention.
In football/soccer, TV came last. One can argue that "Bend It Like Beckham" got the mania started in America, that's the power of art. And pair that with celebrity, Mr. Beckham himself, and suddenly kids would rather play soccer than Little League and there's actual traction with the MLS.
And add in a dash of Title IX, which got the women participating. Soccer was boosted by the incredible US women's teams. And women riders populate the bike paths too.
And yet the focus is still on the old sports. But how many people do you see throwing a ball? Drive up PCH on a Saturday and you'll be wowed by the endless peloton, a miles-long line of bike riders of all shapes and sizes.
And the USA Pro Cycling Championship works because of its difficulty. The climbs. The altitude. This is not for pussies.
And active Coloradans are drawn to the zenith of a sport so many participate in.
And there are sponsors and payments and it all adds to the circus of stimulation. You feel like you're where it's happening, at this intersection of sports and commerce.
But don't confuse this with art.
Sports are about the body. Art is about the mind.
In other words, how many famous athletes have made it as musicians? And vice versa? These are two different skills. And their melding together by entrepreneurs has been to the detriment of music. A rider is an almost inert item, a musician is not. If a rider is plastered with the patches of his sponsor, it's evidence of his ability to turn his skill and devotion into cash, if the artist does so it evidences the fact that he's sold out.
Why is it that Neil Young and the Eagles refuse to take money from corporations yet every youngster is eager to? Don't tell me it's because there's less money in it, or that times have changed, I'll just say they're different people. Just like baseball players and bicycle riders are different people. The artists of yore stood outside the game, today's are deeply in it, to their and their audience's detriment.
So you wonder why sports eclipse art.
It's because of the interior goals.
The people making music today are wholly different from those who were successful doing so in the classic rock era. The stars of yore were misfits going down the only avenue that could fulfill them and get them laid. They were beaten up in school, if they didn't drop out completely. Today's musicians are members of the club, who want the adulation and riches of sports stars.
But we've established that they're completely different types.
So the end result is when you go to the show and you see the plastering of advertisements it detracts from the experience, it turns the event into pure commerce as opposed to a religious experience.
And when you go to the bike race you feel like you're at the advent of something new and exciting and that the sponsorships demonstrate the entire enterprise is on the way up and you're in on the ground floor.
Oh what a crazy world we live in.
P.S. The participation culture has invaded music too. With new technological tools more people are making music. The fact that they expect it to be successful is a head-scratcher, since they would never expect to top the podium at the sporting event, especially without years of training, peppered with loss as well as victory.
http://www.usaprocyclingchallenge.com
Stage 5 Vail: http://bit.ly/14fo70Y
USA Pro Cycling Challenge Tour Tracker: http://bit.ly/1d1ZIBQ
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You Wanna Own It
That's what's wrong with today's marketing, it doesn't allow for percolation, it doesn't allow for growth, it believes the instant smash is more powerful than the long term build, that if everybody knows your name right away you've made it, when just the opposite is true.
I can't get over "House Of Cards." I live for art, I could watch this thing all day if they had that many episodes. But there's no buzz. And therefore the cognoscenti, the prognosticators, believe it's toast, when nothing could be further from the truth.
They call it the NEWSpaper. And if there's no news, they don't write about it. And the web is even worse, some stories don't even last a day. They want the now. And they can't see any spikes with "House Of Cards," and therefore they don't write about it.
But the fans don't stop watching it.
This weekend we're going to be exposed to the abomination known as the Video Music Awards. But I dare you to name last year's winners. Hell, I dare you to name this summer's blockbuster movies. Both were the beneficiaries of hype. There are so many VMA stories you'd believe the channel still drives the culture and sets the music agenda which is so far from the truth that to say so is to believe Jimmy Ray and those guys who did the "Macarena" are still charttoppers.
Then there's that story in the "New York Times," saying YouTube/Internet is the new MTV. Yeah, if you want to have a momentary hit. But last summer's "stars" are already done, and if you believe Carly Rae Jepsen and PSY are coming back you're making Eggs Benedict with year-old English muffins.
How did we get here?
The money. That's the ultimate arbiter today, how much you've got. And the hoi polloi can never have as much as the entrenched rich, so they go for fame, which frequently generates little capital at all.
Credit MTV for the latter, with "Real World." Suddenly, you had people everyone knew the name of who were absolutely broke. And newbies who were lining up to take their place. And today's musical stars are no different. They believe instant is what it's all about.
But that which lasts rarely is.
But back to my original point. The way you make a fan is by having him believe he's the only one who knows about you, that he's a point person in the war of building your career. To him, you're everything. Mow him down by looking for fly by night fans and you do yourself a disservice.
In other words, if you keep looking at new women everywhere you go, don't expect your girlfriend to stick around. You know, the one who makes you breakfast, washes your clothes, listens to your foibles and has sex with you. She's dedicated to you, she provides what no one else does because she believes in you, she loves you, the two-dimensional women on the street do not.
And you may say a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle, but you can flip the above scenario around very easily. Men will tell you you're pretty, pay for dinner and hold your handbag and go to movies they hate just to satiate you.
And neither will tolerate anyone talking crap about the other, that's how solid the bond is.
Careers are not built on transitory relationships. They're constructed brick by brick, a solid foundation, on the belief and efforts of hard core fans.
You can blame the labels too. Artist development is history, they're public companies that require an instant return, and if you're not the kind of act that can provide this, you're not needed.
And the kind of act a fan desires is one with rough edges, who's unique, who speaks about his or her insecurities and foibles. Sure, there are some aspirational ones too, pontificating how big and successful they are, but really, they're just fodder for the age, perfect for the times, they rarely last. In other words, people keep listening to Taylor Swift and Jay-Z and Kanye's records go up and down like a rocket ship.
I'm not sure we're gonna see any change, not soon.
But the history of the world is always the outside crushing the inside. The unseen coming along and eradicating everything in its path.
There's always been popular music. Top Forty fodder. But there used to be a slew of well-trained musicians doing it their way. Now these well-trained players keep bitching they can't get paid and are not famous enough and where can they sell out?
Which is why music is not what it used to be.
It begins with the tunes.
But it goes nowhere without the fans.
It's kind of like an automobile. Sans gasoline/petrol, it's just a showpiece.
And you don't have to push people to spread the word, they'll do it on their own, it's what they live for, it's part of their DNA, to let others in on what the believe is so great. It's not about a contest, it's nothing artificial, it's positively real.
And if you do it right, your day in the sun comes. "House Of Cards" will win a bunch of Emmys and everybody will be talking about it and viewership will skyrocket. The believers will keep testifying, and those suddenly in the know will jump to watch the same way they used to buy the Grammy Album of the Year.
But the Grammys, like the VMAs, are a joke. A marketing exercise. Ultimately meaningless. With acts and their handlers negotiating for airtime.
Wanna make it long term?
REFUSE TO BE ON!
P.S. I'm gonna tell you how the Internet works. By saying that some women make breakfast and wash clothes for their significant others my inbox is going to be inundated with outrage, feminists labeling me sexist. Forget that this describes many relationships, that even some rich and powerful breadwinning women still do these tasks for their husbands, you can't write it down. Because if you do, you get a tsunami of blowback. Everyone is working the refs these days. Trying to get you to not write a truth you believe in. It's hard not to succumb. I'm trying. (And yes, of course there are house husbands who do everything, but what is the point here? That there's one specific way to life your life and that if you perform a formerly gender-associated act you're a patsy? Be free, do what you want.)
"Pop Music Videos? I Want My YouTube!": http://nyti.ms/1daGCIG
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I can't get over "House Of Cards." I live for art, I could watch this thing all day if they had that many episodes. But there's no buzz. And therefore the cognoscenti, the prognosticators, believe it's toast, when nothing could be further from the truth.
They call it the NEWSpaper. And if there's no news, they don't write about it. And the web is even worse, some stories don't even last a day. They want the now. And they can't see any spikes with "House Of Cards," and therefore they don't write about it.
But the fans don't stop watching it.
This weekend we're going to be exposed to the abomination known as the Video Music Awards. But I dare you to name last year's winners. Hell, I dare you to name this summer's blockbuster movies. Both were the beneficiaries of hype. There are so many VMA stories you'd believe the channel still drives the culture and sets the music agenda which is so far from the truth that to say so is to believe Jimmy Ray and those guys who did the "Macarena" are still charttoppers.
Then there's that story in the "New York Times," saying YouTube/Internet is the new MTV. Yeah, if you want to have a momentary hit. But last summer's "stars" are already done, and if you believe Carly Rae Jepsen and PSY are coming back you're making Eggs Benedict with year-old English muffins.
How did we get here?
The money. That's the ultimate arbiter today, how much you've got. And the hoi polloi can never have as much as the entrenched rich, so they go for fame, which frequently generates little capital at all.
Credit MTV for the latter, with "Real World." Suddenly, you had people everyone knew the name of who were absolutely broke. And newbies who were lining up to take their place. And today's musical stars are no different. They believe instant is what it's all about.
But that which lasts rarely is.
But back to my original point. The way you make a fan is by having him believe he's the only one who knows about you, that he's a point person in the war of building your career. To him, you're everything. Mow him down by looking for fly by night fans and you do yourself a disservice.
In other words, if you keep looking at new women everywhere you go, don't expect your girlfriend to stick around. You know, the one who makes you breakfast, washes your clothes, listens to your foibles and has sex with you. She's dedicated to you, she provides what no one else does because she believes in you, she loves you, the two-dimensional women on the street do not.
And you may say a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle, but you can flip the above scenario around very easily. Men will tell you you're pretty, pay for dinner and hold your handbag and go to movies they hate just to satiate you.
And neither will tolerate anyone talking crap about the other, that's how solid the bond is.
Careers are not built on transitory relationships. They're constructed brick by brick, a solid foundation, on the belief and efforts of hard core fans.
You can blame the labels too. Artist development is history, they're public companies that require an instant return, and if you're not the kind of act that can provide this, you're not needed.
And the kind of act a fan desires is one with rough edges, who's unique, who speaks about his or her insecurities and foibles. Sure, there are some aspirational ones too, pontificating how big and successful they are, but really, they're just fodder for the age, perfect for the times, they rarely last. In other words, people keep listening to Taylor Swift and Jay-Z and Kanye's records go up and down like a rocket ship.
I'm not sure we're gonna see any change, not soon.
But the history of the world is always the outside crushing the inside. The unseen coming along and eradicating everything in its path.
There's always been popular music. Top Forty fodder. But there used to be a slew of well-trained musicians doing it their way. Now these well-trained players keep bitching they can't get paid and are not famous enough and where can they sell out?
Which is why music is not what it used to be.
It begins with the tunes.
But it goes nowhere without the fans.
It's kind of like an automobile. Sans gasoline/petrol, it's just a showpiece.
And you don't have to push people to spread the word, they'll do it on their own, it's what they live for, it's part of their DNA, to let others in on what the believe is so great. It's not about a contest, it's nothing artificial, it's positively real.
And if you do it right, your day in the sun comes. "House Of Cards" will win a bunch of Emmys and everybody will be talking about it and viewership will skyrocket. The believers will keep testifying, and those suddenly in the know will jump to watch the same way they used to buy the Grammy Album of the Year.
But the Grammys, like the VMAs, are a joke. A marketing exercise. Ultimately meaningless. With acts and their handlers negotiating for airtime.
Wanna make it long term?
REFUSE TO BE ON!
P.S. I'm gonna tell you how the Internet works. By saying that some women make breakfast and wash clothes for their significant others my inbox is going to be inundated with outrage, feminists labeling me sexist. Forget that this describes many relationships, that even some rich and powerful breadwinning women still do these tasks for their husbands, you can't write it down. Because if you do, you get a tsunami of blowback. Everyone is working the refs these days. Trying to get you to not write a truth you believe in. It's hard not to succumb. I'm trying. (And yes, of course there are house husbands who do everything, but what is the point here? That there's one specific way to life your life and that if you perform a formerly gender-associated act you're a patsy? Be free, do what you want.)
"Pop Music Videos? I Want My YouTube!": http://nyti.ms/1daGCIG
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Tuesday 20 August 2013
The Light
I know, I know, this newsletter is ostensibly about music, but have you noticed the light?
Not the one from the Led Zeppelin song, but the one outside.
Every summer, it's on one specific day, at least here in Southern California, where the light changes. Oh, I know that's not how it works, that the angle of the earth to the sun is constantly changing, but for some reason there's one specific day it becomes noticeable, and then you realize fall is coming.
Fall is so different from summer. Everybody's so serious, buckling down and making everything count by Thanksgiving and Christmas, when the year ends. After that, after the January doldrums, it's a rebirth.
But now the world is dying.
And you realize all the hopes and dreams you had for the summer are being extinguished. That it'll be another year before you make it to Glacier National Park, before you go hiking in the Sawtooths.
Those are two of my personal desires. Along with a trip to Monument Valley. And maybe Bryce and Zion.
I wonder if I'm going to see them all before I die.
Oh, I don't plan on leaving this mortal coil anytime soon, but you wake up one day and you realize you're never going to do it all. That if you go to a place more than once, it just means you don't have time to go someplace else. The curtain starts to fall and opportunities evaporate. When you're young you want to eat the entire world alive, when you're old you realize you're lucky if you can chew a piece.
And when you're young the summer is an eternity.
But as you age it slides by so fast that if you don't stop and take it all in, you miss it.
When I was tyke, I went to the beach with my mom. I remember cutting my hand on a rusty pail and seeing so much blood I was afraid to show her, figuring she'd take me for stitches.
She did.
Then I went to day camp. At the JCC. In Stepney, Connecticut. We sang songs on the bus, remember "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt"? That's my name too!
Then overnight camp. Where I experienced my first romance.
And before long summer meant work. It was all about nights and weekends.
And now, it's just a season.
But when it passes, I die a bit inside. Knowing that this routine is not going to go on forever. That there will come a point where the world will turn without me. There will be new kids who believe summer is long enough to be bored, not realizing those days will fade and never come back.
So I say goodbye to the long days.
So long to those memories of "Goodbye Columbus," with Richard Benjamin and Ali MacGraw playing tennis in the near dark.
So long to those nights without a jacket.
So long to the days when a summer song was actually about the summer.
So long to the days when school never ever started before Labor Day and the last week of August was a time of relaxation and personal collection, buying the new records, getting ready for seriousness.
And so long to the optimism of the summer.
The Beach Boys said it meant new love.
Jan & Dean implored us to go to Surf City.
And we went to the shows and ogled our generation without a care in the world, believing it would last forever.
But it won't.
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Not the one from the Led Zeppelin song, but the one outside.
Every summer, it's on one specific day, at least here in Southern California, where the light changes. Oh, I know that's not how it works, that the angle of the earth to the sun is constantly changing, but for some reason there's one specific day it becomes noticeable, and then you realize fall is coming.
Fall is so different from summer. Everybody's so serious, buckling down and making everything count by Thanksgiving and Christmas, when the year ends. After that, after the January doldrums, it's a rebirth.
But now the world is dying.
And you realize all the hopes and dreams you had for the summer are being extinguished. That it'll be another year before you make it to Glacier National Park, before you go hiking in the Sawtooths.
Those are two of my personal desires. Along with a trip to Monument Valley. And maybe Bryce and Zion.
I wonder if I'm going to see them all before I die.
Oh, I don't plan on leaving this mortal coil anytime soon, but you wake up one day and you realize you're never going to do it all. That if you go to a place more than once, it just means you don't have time to go someplace else. The curtain starts to fall and opportunities evaporate. When you're young you want to eat the entire world alive, when you're old you realize you're lucky if you can chew a piece.
And when you're young the summer is an eternity.
But as you age it slides by so fast that if you don't stop and take it all in, you miss it.
When I was tyke, I went to the beach with my mom. I remember cutting my hand on a rusty pail and seeing so much blood I was afraid to show her, figuring she'd take me for stitches.
She did.
Then I went to day camp. At the JCC. In Stepney, Connecticut. We sang songs on the bus, remember "John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt"? That's my name too!
Then overnight camp. Where I experienced my first romance.
And before long summer meant work. It was all about nights and weekends.
And now, it's just a season.
But when it passes, I die a bit inside. Knowing that this routine is not going to go on forever. That there will come a point where the world will turn without me. There will be new kids who believe summer is long enough to be bored, not realizing those days will fade and never come back.
So I say goodbye to the long days.
So long to those memories of "Goodbye Columbus," with Richard Benjamin and Ali MacGraw playing tennis in the near dark.
So long to those nights without a jacket.
So long to the days when a summer song was actually about the summer.
So long to the days when school never ever started before Labor Day and the last week of August was a time of relaxation and personal collection, buying the new records, getting ready for seriousness.
And so long to the optimism of the summer.
The Beach Boys said it meant new love.
Jan & Dean implored us to go to Surf City.
And we went to the shows and ogled our generation without a care in the world, believing it would last forever.
But it won't.
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Audeze LCD2
You're not gonna pay for these and neither did I but they're the most fantastic listening experience you'll have all year.
For so long music has been tinny and compressed, what if there were a device that could add humanity and warmth to the sound?
Oh, don't go all technical on me, telling me you can never do better than the original source, all I'm telling you is these headphones are a revelation.
These are not fashion accessories. Not something you parade around in to demonstrate how hip and fashionable you are. Consider them the anti-Beats. Yes, while the Iovine/Dre company is touting their new "Studio" headphones in billboards all over town, Audeze is all about word of mouth. And if you're part of the chain, if you're listening, it's DEAFENING!
Do I expect you to spend a grand? When audio prices have been driven down over decades, when the component system has been replaced by the cheap all-in-one and then the iPod and phone, which many people get for free?
No.
But you should.
Look at this way. You spent multiple thousands back in the seventies, assuming you were alive and kicking back when audio quality last reigned, and the LCD2's are just a fraction of that.
Although you should buy an amp. Which will add a couple of hundred bucks.
But it's worth it!
Do you know what it's like to touch someone? How that feels? That's how these Audezes sound!
Oh, you pronounce that like "odyssey."
And I could explain the technology, but I won't. Needless to say, if you remember the Magneplanar speakers of yore, they're kind of like that. Which is to say they're not traditional. In other words, the spoils go to those who think out of the box.
I heard stuff I've never heard before. Even though I've listened to some of these tracks so many times I can sing them at the same length, a cappella.
Kind of like Dido's "Sand In My Shoes." It's the story of a vacation romance. Coming home and wondering if what was temporary should be permanent.
"On the road where the cars never stop going through the night"
Foreshadowing this line, positively hearable, positively visible, is the traffic! Right outside Dido's window! You really feel like you're in her flat in London. It's like a full screen movie, but it's only for you.
And when you get a device like this, you go back to all your favorites, to hear what you've missed. And it's less about sounds levitating from the detritus than the enriching of the sounds themselves. Suddenly you see the guitars. Sometimes even the fingers.
And then there's Stevie Nicks's "Secret Love." Dave Stewart is famous for thin productions. But listening on the Audezes you wonder if that's an incorrect perception. Because suddenly all the effects separate, instead of a wash of sound, there's suddenly detail. It's like you're sitting with him and the engineer at the board, twisting knobs, you can see them add the effects.
Then there's stuff so ancient you think nothing will be revealed. Kind of like Spirit's "So Little Time To Fly," off 1969's "Clear."
"Do you see the reasons why
There's very little time to fly"
It's the bass! You can hear it. As for Jay Ferguson's vocal...you can see him alone in the studio, singing. You can see the mixer grinning as he adds the final touches. All the elements separate, they're clearly defined. It's like putting on glasses after a lifetime of presbyopia.
And the funny thing is everything gets better in tech, everything comes into focus, but in music we've been going in the wrong direction, Beatle records sound better than the productions of today.
I know, I know, to expect the public to pay for this sound is an impossible dream. Good enough is good enough for most people. Then again, great technology descends from the stratosphere into everyday life. If people focus on it, if there's enough buzz.
I'd like to hear somebody say they bought Beats for the sound, I'd like to say someone purchased them and is raving about what they hear, but the truth is Beats are fashion items, no different from those women driving SUVs who never go offroad and don't even live where it snows. Or the guys leasing hybrids... Huh? They don't pay economic dividends for years! If Jimmy Iovine truly cared about sound he'd have ads with specs, but he doesn't want to take that risk, he'd rather go through the backdoor, and it's a start, but it's so far from the finish line it's a joke.
Then again, there's no cash for these detailed productions. They're expensive. And when you make all your money live do you want to waste all that cash and time perfecting that which no one will ever hear?
But if you get it right today, like in the case of Spirit above, it will last until tomorrow.
I can finally make out lyrics that heretofore have been impossible to decipher.
And I know reading about sound is like talking about pictures, it doesn't capture the essence.
But these Audezes do!
They're huge. With wooden earcups. Which require oiling.
And it's not only acoustic and old stuff, I pulled up Eminem's "Without Me" and all that stuff on the bottom, underneath Marshall, tightens up and becomes defined, it's no longer a wash of sound. And you can hear that Marshall's voice is doubled. And just like they paid Alicia Keys to use a BlackBerry while she was an iPhone addict and continued to use the Apple device I bet my life that if Jimmy and Dre heard these Audezes they'd discard their Beats and never ever listen to them again.
And the problem is too much of this expensive stuff is purchased by tweaks who are more into the gear than the music. They quote specs and tech and your eyes glaze over and you move on. There aren't enough music fanatics exposed to this great stuff and spreading the word. That's what happened with stereo in the sixties and seventies. You heard it and you bought it. Your buddy had a component rig, you wanted one too.
So I'm just making you aware of these Audezes. To let you know what the bleeding edge is about. I kept hearing how great they were, I truly didn't believe it.
And then I heard it.
P.S. There's even a better model, the LCD3, at 2k. It's hard for me to believe there could be anything better than the LCD2, but they're gonna send me a pair so I can find out.
P.P.S. This is not a commercial. These things are really that good.
P.P.P.S. They're so good even MP3s are a revelation!
http://audeze.com/products/headphones/lcd2
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For so long music has been tinny and compressed, what if there were a device that could add humanity and warmth to the sound?
Oh, don't go all technical on me, telling me you can never do better than the original source, all I'm telling you is these headphones are a revelation.
These are not fashion accessories. Not something you parade around in to demonstrate how hip and fashionable you are. Consider them the anti-Beats. Yes, while the Iovine/Dre company is touting their new "Studio" headphones in billboards all over town, Audeze is all about word of mouth. And if you're part of the chain, if you're listening, it's DEAFENING!
Do I expect you to spend a grand? When audio prices have been driven down over decades, when the component system has been replaced by the cheap all-in-one and then the iPod and phone, which many people get for free?
No.
But you should.
Look at this way. You spent multiple thousands back in the seventies, assuming you were alive and kicking back when audio quality last reigned, and the LCD2's are just a fraction of that.
Although you should buy an amp. Which will add a couple of hundred bucks.
But it's worth it!
Do you know what it's like to touch someone? How that feels? That's how these Audezes sound!
Oh, you pronounce that like "odyssey."
And I could explain the technology, but I won't. Needless to say, if you remember the Magneplanar speakers of yore, they're kind of like that. Which is to say they're not traditional. In other words, the spoils go to those who think out of the box.
I heard stuff I've never heard before. Even though I've listened to some of these tracks so many times I can sing them at the same length, a cappella.
Kind of like Dido's "Sand In My Shoes." It's the story of a vacation romance. Coming home and wondering if what was temporary should be permanent.
"On the road where the cars never stop going through the night"
Foreshadowing this line, positively hearable, positively visible, is the traffic! Right outside Dido's window! You really feel like you're in her flat in London. It's like a full screen movie, but it's only for you.
And when you get a device like this, you go back to all your favorites, to hear what you've missed. And it's less about sounds levitating from the detritus than the enriching of the sounds themselves. Suddenly you see the guitars. Sometimes even the fingers.
And then there's Stevie Nicks's "Secret Love." Dave Stewart is famous for thin productions. But listening on the Audezes you wonder if that's an incorrect perception. Because suddenly all the effects separate, instead of a wash of sound, there's suddenly detail. It's like you're sitting with him and the engineer at the board, twisting knobs, you can see them add the effects.
Then there's stuff so ancient you think nothing will be revealed. Kind of like Spirit's "So Little Time To Fly," off 1969's "Clear."
"Do you see the reasons why
There's very little time to fly"
It's the bass! You can hear it. As for Jay Ferguson's vocal...you can see him alone in the studio, singing. You can see the mixer grinning as he adds the final touches. All the elements separate, they're clearly defined. It's like putting on glasses after a lifetime of presbyopia.
And the funny thing is everything gets better in tech, everything comes into focus, but in music we've been going in the wrong direction, Beatle records sound better than the productions of today.
I know, I know, to expect the public to pay for this sound is an impossible dream. Good enough is good enough for most people. Then again, great technology descends from the stratosphere into everyday life. If people focus on it, if there's enough buzz.
I'd like to hear somebody say they bought Beats for the sound, I'd like to say someone purchased them and is raving about what they hear, but the truth is Beats are fashion items, no different from those women driving SUVs who never go offroad and don't even live where it snows. Or the guys leasing hybrids... Huh? They don't pay economic dividends for years! If Jimmy Iovine truly cared about sound he'd have ads with specs, but he doesn't want to take that risk, he'd rather go through the backdoor, and it's a start, but it's so far from the finish line it's a joke.
Then again, there's no cash for these detailed productions. They're expensive. And when you make all your money live do you want to waste all that cash and time perfecting that which no one will ever hear?
But if you get it right today, like in the case of Spirit above, it will last until tomorrow.
I can finally make out lyrics that heretofore have been impossible to decipher.
And I know reading about sound is like talking about pictures, it doesn't capture the essence.
But these Audezes do!
They're huge. With wooden earcups. Which require oiling.
And it's not only acoustic and old stuff, I pulled up Eminem's "Without Me" and all that stuff on the bottom, underneath Marshall, tightens up and becomes defined, it's no longer a wash of sound. And you can hear that Marshall's voice is doubled. And just like they paid Alicia Keys to use a BlackBerry while she was an iPhone addict and continued to use the Apple device I bet my life that if Jimmy and Dre heard these Audezes they'd discard their Beats and never ever listen to them again.
And the problem is too much of this expensive stuff is purchased by tweaks who are more into the gear than the music. They quote specs and tech and your eyes glaze over and you move on. There aren't enough music fanatics exposed to this great stuff and spreading the word. That's what happened with stereo in the sixties and seventies. You heard it and you bought it. Your buddy had a component rig, you wanted one too.
So I'm just making you aware of these Audezes. To let you know what the bleeding edge is about. I kept hearing how great they were, I truly didn't believe it.
And then I heard it.
P.S. There's even a better model, the LCD3, at 2k. It's hard for me to believe there could be anything better than the LCD2, but they're gonna send me a pair so I can find out.
P.P.S. This is not a commercial. These things are really that good.
P.P.P.S. They're so good even MP3s are a revelation!
http://audeze.com/products/headphones/lcd2
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Sunday 18 August 2013
Quotes
"Life is like that. There's always more, always a reveal."
Cheryl Strayed
I contemplate suicide now and again. Not as much as I used to, in college, back before people knew how dangerous higher education was and a safety net/mental health infrastructure was required, and the decade thereafter, when I was trying to find myself in a world that rarely squared with my conception of it.
I'm not exactly a happy camper today, but things are going pretty good. I think it's got partly to do with getting older, you understand the game, you realize those who think they know...don't. I'd never want to be President. CEO of the giant corporation known as the USA? Sounds like a crappy job to me.
But every once in a while I get frustrated. Not only when I hit a metaphorical brick wall, but when I realize I haven't changed or am encountering the same damn problem once again. It's like an episode of "Groundhog Day," but without the reward at the end.
But it's quotes like these that keep me going.
Because life is truly a mystery. Better than any book or movie. You're just bouncing along and the strangest thing happens, especially if you put yourself in play.
And you should.
"WE ARE FAMILY: When a book saturates the culture as pervasively as Cheryl Strayed's 'Wild' - at No. 15 on the combined nonfiction list after 56 weeks - it can be hard to imagine there are readers left who haven't encountered it. But when a Pennsylvania woman checked 'Wild' out of her local library recently, she was surprised to find far more than the travel adventure she was expecting. 'I often get e-mails,' Strayed wrote on Facebook last month, 'from readers who tell me we're connected because their lives are so very much like mine - similar childhoods, similar losses, similar struggles. This experience has been a great reminder to me how very connected we are, in spite of our differences. As I read one such e-mail recently I thought I was reading the usual until I came to the part about how the e-mailer sat bolt upright in bed as she read "Wild" because halfway into Chapter 1 she realized we have the same father. My half sister, who came upon my book by chance, who knew of my existence but not my name, found me.' Strayed told me she had made efforts over the years to locate her half sister and brother, but online searches turned up nothing. But when her half sister started 'Wild,' she 'knew just enough about me and my siblings that she put it together. She read the rest of the book and then she wrote to me. She was stunned. I was, too, and yet I always knew our paths would cross. Life is like that. There's always more, always a reveal.'"
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/18/books/review/inside-the-list.html
___________________________________
"Generosity is its own form of power."
It's all about the favor economy.
That's when you know you're in the game, when you realize this.
If you haven't been asked for a favor, you're not playing.
But tread lightly with your requests, the other shoe always drops.
Little gems like this are sprinkled throughout "House of Cards." They make me bolt upright, startled with the recognition.
I know not to ask.
Because it always comes with a price, nothing is free. Ever.
No one is more generous than Irving Azoff. He might have learned it from Jerry Weintraub. Irving will jump through hoops your own siblings, never mind your parents, will not. This is where his power derives from.
You think it's about networking, knowing everybody. And I don't want to denigrate that, but really it's about building good will based upon a network of favors. If you can't do something for somebody with nothing specific expected in return, you won't make it very far. Because when you get near the top you need your allies, people you can count on.
That's how the world works.
David Geffen too. He'll do anything for you. All the big power players.
Not just for anyone, but someone in their orbit, someone who might prove useful down the line.
"Useful." It doesn't mean being used. It means you encounter people down the line that you never expected to cross paths with. It's good to have a prior relationship, not built on cunning or saber-rattling, but generosity. People who might not grease your way, but certainly won't block it. People who will do the tiniest of things that others will not. Like get your e-mail read, get you time with the supposedly unreachable.
And only an amateur muscles, only an amateur squeezes the recipient to deliver. If you're playing it like the Mafia, you're not going to be playing for long. No, the giver asks for something. You get to decide whether to deliver or not. All you know is if you don't, you're done.
And a pro never asks for something untoward, something you wouldn't be comfortable doing. That comes if you're truly related, if you're truly bosom buddies. They understand that you might not want to do it.
Which is why you probably shouldn't ask. Not unless you see that those free concert tickets come with a price.
Then again, those concert tickets are currency. As are your relationships. Give ducats away on a regular basis. Do kind things for others. The dividends might not be immediately apparent, but if you're deflated about the lack of return you haven't waited long enough. Or you're not skilled at the game.
And power is a game. Every bit as complicated and difficult to play as baseball and football.
And the world is all about power.
But it's based on love.
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Cheryl Strayed
I contemplate suicide now and again. Not as much as I used to, in college, back before people knew how dangerous higher education was and a safety net/mental health infrastructure was required, and the decade thereafter, when I was trying to find myself in a world that rarely squared with my conception of it.
I'm not exactly a happy camper today, but things are going pretty good. I think it's got partly to do with getting older, you understand the game, you realize those who think they know...don't. I'd never want to be President. CEO of the giant corporation known as the USA? Sounds like a crappy job to me.
But every once in a while I get frustrated. Not only when I hit a metaphorical brick wall, but when I realize I haven't changed or am encountering the same damn problem once again. It's like an episode of "Groundhog Day," but without the reward at the end.
But it's quotes like these that keep me going.
Because life is truly a mystery. Better than any book or movie. You're just bouncing along and the strangest thing happens, especially if you put yourself in play.
And you should.
"WE ARE FAMILY: When a book saturates the culture as pervasively as Cheryl Strayed's 'Wild' - at No. 15 on the combined nonfiction list after 56 weeks - it can be hard to imagine there are readers left who haven't encountered it. But when a Pennsylvania woman checked 'Wild' out of her local library recently, she was surprised to find far more than the travel adventure she was expecting. 'I often get e-mails,' Strayed wrote on Facebook last month, 'from readers who tell me we're connected because their lives are so very much like mine - similar childhoods, similar losses, similar struggles. This experience has been a great reminder to me how very connected we are, in spite of our differences. As I read one such e-mail recently I thought I was reading the usual until I came to the part about how the e-mailer sat bolt upright in bed as she read "Wild" because halfway into Chapter 1 she realized we have the same father. My half sister, who came upon my book by chance, who knew of my existence but not my name, found me.' Strayed told me she had made efforts over the years to locate her half sister and brother, but online searches turned up nothing. But when her half sister started 'Wild,' she 'knew just enough about me and my siblings that she put it together. She read the rest of the book and then she wrote to me. She was stunned. I was, too, and yet I always knew our paths would cross. Life is like that. There's always more, always a reveal.'"
http://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/18/books/review/inside-the-list.html
___________________________________
"Generosity is its own form of power."
It's all about the favor economy.
That's when you know you're in the game, when you realize this.
If you haven't been asked for a favor, you're not playing.
But tread lightly with your requests, the other shoe always drops.
Little gems like this are sprinkled throughout "House of Cards." They make me bolt upright, startled with the recognition.
I know not to ask.
Because it always comes with a price, nothing is free. Ever.
No one is more generous than Irving Azoff. He might have learned it from Jerry Weintraub. Irving will jump through hoops your own siblings, never mind your parents, will not. This is where his power derives from.
You think it's about networking, knowing everybody. And I don't want to denigrate that, but really it's about building good will based upon a network of favors. If you can't do something for somebody with nothing specific expected in return, you won't make it very far. Because when you get near the top you need your allies, people you can count on.
That's how the world works.
David Geffen too. He'll do anything for you. All the big power players.
Not just for anyone, but someone in their orbit, someone who might prove useful down the line.
"Useful." It doesn't mean being used. It means you encounter people down the line that you never expected to cross paths with. It's good to have a prior relationship, not built on cunning or saber-rattling, but generosity. People who might not grease your way, but certainly won't block it. People who will do the tiniest of things that others will not. Like get your e-mail read, get you time with the supposedly unreachable.
And only an amateur muscles, only an amateur squeezes the recipient to deliver. If you're playing it like the Mafia, you're not going to be playing for long. No, the giver asks for something. You get to decide whether to deliver or not. All you know is if you don't, you're done.
And a pro never asks for something untoward, something you wouldn't be comfortable doing. That comes if you're truly related, if you're truly bosom buddies. They understand that you might not want to do it.
Which is why you probably shouldn't ask. Not unless you see that those free concert tickets come with a price.
Then again, those concert tickets are currency. As are your relationships. Give ducats away on a regular basis. Do kind things for others. The dividends might not be immediately apparent, but if you're deflated about the lack of return you haven't waited long enough. Or you're not skilled at the game.
And power is a game. Every bit as complicated and difficult to play as baseball and football.
And the world is all about power.
But it's based on love.
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Visit the archive: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/
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Longform Journalism
Did you read the "New York Times" story on the avalanche?
http://www.nytimes.com/projects/2012/snow-fall/#/?part=tunnel-creek
Actually, you don't read it as much as experience it. It's not only words, but images. And it deals with the basic issues of human life...risk, camaraderie and death.
Should we do it or not? Will we jump off the cliff and have the sensation of a lifetime or will be bump into the rocks on the way down and get bruised and bloody or hit unseen items in the water below and die.
Die. That's the opposite of life, death. It's what we're contemplating every damn day. If we go to college are we buying an insurance policy or are we missing out on an opportunity to be our fully realized selves? If a friend jumps off a bridge should you? My father used to posit this rhetorical question to my desire to do something seemingly every day. But this was back before they invented the bungee jump.
So the "New York Times" is fiscally challenged. Positively paralyzed. Not sure whether to stay stuck in the past or jump so far into the future they become "Newsweek," remaking themselves into oblivion.
And the number of missteps the "Times" has taken have been staggering. Instead of focusing on its strengths, providing reporting where no one else will. But a newspaper is not only the headlines. And like an out of bounds skier himself, to truly titillate, to truly exhilarate, the paper must do something different.
You can read the avalanche story in the physical paper. But the Luddites who did this, who are self-satisfied, inured to the past, missed out. Online, you felt it, you experienced it, the eerie quiet of the mountains after a storm, never mind an avalanche, when you feel fully alive and others are...dead.
To say last December's avalanche story was a hit would be an understatement. It won awards. It was the definitive statement on the tragedy that was covered in the mountain media, but it reached more than that core audience.
And today, the "Times" followed it up with a story on a jockey.
A jockey? I've only been to the races once. And this guy isn't famous. But that's the hook.
Will I read it?
Probably.
There are a ton of lessons here. If the avalanche story wasn't in the "Times," it would have gotten little traction. That's the dirty little secret of the web, many can play, only few can win. In a world of media overload, we gravitate towards those with consistent quality who've enraptured us in the past. In other words, the rich get richer and the poor can't play. And this is not a governmental policy, but the immutable law of access technology. Yes, you can post your music online, but that does not mean anybody will listen to it.
In other words, the "Times" was in the game. And when you are, you must progress, but never throw out your basic asset, that's your core good will, what you're known for. Kind of like the musician who won't play his old material in concert. No matter how much he advertises this, patrons are pissed. They're dumb, they're uninformed, they're coming for who you used to be, they're not sure they want to be aligned with who you are in the future.
In other words, you've got to keep searching for your next hit. When the majority of your audience doesn't want you to change. Kind of like the inane brick and mortar booksellers. They keep pointing to what their customers want as evidence for both trends and keeping the past intact. More interesting is those who don't go into the store, what do they want?
Yup, the wildfire of the avalanche story was not spread by either the "Times" or its regular readers, lapping up political and world news. It was a small subset of those living on the edge who spread the word.
So the "Times" had a hit. And following it up is the hardest thing to do. You can cut "Call Me Maybe," but can you then do "Blurred Lines"? In a world that's all about today, where the label titans have no ownership equity, this seems to be impossible. One, they don't really want the left field, and if you have a hit with something different, they don't allow you to do what you want next, they run your song through a plethora of cowriters and producers, looking for insurance. But if you think there's any insurance skiing in the backcountry, your outside experience is limited to video games.
So first you gain trust. Then you slowly expand horizons.
And then you listen to nothing anybody has to say.
In other words, if you want people to listen to your next album, your previous one must have no duds, be playable throughout. In the world of the Internet people have unlimited time for that which is great, they live to go down the rabbit hole, they want to have Netflix marathons of "Breaking Bad." But they don't want to do marathons of everything.
So we keep hearing people have a short attention span and you've got to make it more brief and here you have the "Times" doing just the opposite and winning.
Could you do the same thing?
Absolutely.
But you've got to be in business for yourself, you have to have established your bona fides, you have to provide content on a regular basis, so that people won't forget you and will be exposed to your work and...you must have a reputation for excellence nonpareil.
Readers of the "New York Post" will not ever care about what's in the "Times." Ditto listeners to Limbaugh and watchers of Fox News. What's wrong in the music business is people try to appeal to everybody. Be happy with your niche, grow it, but if you're for world domination, you've got a hokey, watered-down, me-too product that will never last.
And unlike the musicians, the "Times" didn't hype the avalanche story, nor this new jockey story. They just posted them.
In music, it's all about the set-up. Publicity. We hate it before we even hear it. We're dunned to death and then we ignore it. Which is kind of the story of the Jay-Z Samsung album, never mind a ton of other works that have been forgotten. In music, we boast how great we are, in print/words/writing we just do it.
The "New York Times" did not send me an e-mail telling me to post a widget on my page or tweet about this new jockey story, spreading the word. No, they let the work speak for itself.
That's the new paradigm. How ever much you want to believe it's about publicity, it's not. It's about excellent work.
And people have an unlimited time for excellence. "House of Cards" is better than any record I've heard all year, there's more truth in it than "Yeezus." It bespeaks life. I can't stop talking about it.
And it's thirteen hours long. And I can't wait for the next season.
And the future is hooking people for the long term. We're ready, can you deliver?
P.S. Googling will get you an August 9th link that no longer works which provided a trailer and an opportunity to be e-mailed when the jockey story appeared. Because the "Times" is so inept in online marketing, this had little traction. In other words, even when they tried to advertise, they couldn't do it. But once again, despite this minor effort, it's not about the ad, but the product. Otherwise everything on a billboard would dominate its category, and it doesn't.
"The Jockey": http://www.nytimes.com/projects/2013/the-jockey/#/?chapt=introduction
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http://www.nytimes.com/projects/2012/snow-fall/#/?part=tunnel-creek
Actually, you don't read it as much as experience it. It's not only words, but images. And it deals with the basic issues of human life...risk, camaraderie and death.
Should we do it or not? Will we jump off the cliff and have the sensation of a lifetime or will be bump into the rocks on the way down and get bruised and bloody or hit unseen items in the water below and die.
Die. That's the opposite of life, death. It's what we're contemplating every damn day. If we go to college are we buying an insurance policy or are we missing out on an opportunity to be our fully realized selves? If a friend jumps off a bridge should you? My father used to posit this rhetorical question to my desire to do something seemingly every day. But this was back before they invented the bungee jump.
So the "New York Times" is fiscally challenged. Positively paralyzed. Not sure whether to stay stuck in the past or jump so far into the future they become "Newsweek," remaking themselves into oblivion.
And the number of missteps the "Times" has taken have been staggering. Instead of focusing on its strengths, providing reporting where no one else will. But a newspaper is not only the headlines. And like an out of bounds skier himself, to truly titillate, to truly exhilarate, the paper must do something different.
You can read the avalanche story in the physical paper. But the Luddites who did this, who are self-satisfied, inured to the past, missed out. Online, you felt it, you experienced it, the eerie quiet of the mountains after a storm, never mind an avalanche, when you feel fully alive and others are...dead.
To say last December's avalanche story was a hit would be an understatement. It won awards. It was the definitive statement on the tragedy that was covered in the mountain media, but it reached more than that core audience.
And today, the "Times" followed it up with a story on a jockey.
A jockey? I've only been to the races once. And this guy isn't famous. But that's the hook.
Will I read it?
Probably.
There are a ton of lessons here. If the avalanche story wasn't in the "Times," it would have gotten little traction. That's the dirty little secret of the web, many can play, only few can win. In a world of media overload, we gravitate towards those with consistent quality who've enraptured us in the past. In other words, the rich get richer and the poor can't play. And this is not a governmental policy, but the immutable law of access technology. Yes, you can post your music online, but that does not mean anybody will listen to it.
In other words, the "Times" was in the game. And when you are, you must progress, but never throw out your basic asset, that's your core good will, what you're known for. Kind of like the musician who won't play his old material in concert. No matter how much he advertises this, patrons are pissed. They're dumb, they're uninformed, they're coming for who you used to be, they're not sure they want to be aligned with who you are in the future.
In other words, you've got to keep searching for your next hit. When the majority of your audience doesn't want you to change. Kind of like the inane brick and mortar booksellers. They keep pointing to what their customers want as evidence for both trends and keeping the past intact. More interesting is those who don't go into the store, what do they want?
Yup, the wildfire of the avalanche story was not spread by either the "Times" or its regular readers, lapping up political and world news. It was a small subset of those living on the edge who spread the word.
So the "Times" had a hit. And following it up is the hardest thing to do. You can cut "Call Me Maybe," but can you then do "Blurred Lines"? In a world that's all about today, where the label titans have no ownership equity, this seems to be impossible. One, they don't really want the left field, and if you have a hit with something different, they don't allow you to do what you want next, they run your song through a plethora of cowriters and producers, looking for insurance. But if you think there's any insurance skiing in the backcountry, your outside experience is limited to video games.
So first you gain trust. Then you slowly expand horizons.
And then you listen to nothing anybody has to say.
In other words, if you want people to listen to your next album, your previous one must have no duds, be playable throughout. In the world of the Internet people have unlimited time for that which is great, they live to go down the rabbit hole, they want to have Netflix marathons of "Breaking Bad." But they don't want to do marathons of everything.
So we keep hearing people have a short attention span and you've got to make it more brief and here you have the "Times" doing just the opposite and winning.
Could you do the same thing?
Absolutely.
But you've got to be in business for yourself, you have to have established your bona fides, you have to provide content on a regular basis, so that people won't forget you and will be exposed to your work and...you must have a reputation for excellence nonpareil.
Readers of the "New York Post" will not ever care about what's in the "Times." Ditto listeners to Limbaugh and watchers of Fox News. What's wrong in the music business is people try to appeal to everybody. Be happy with your niche, grow it, but if you're for world domination, you've got a hokey, watered-down, me-too product that will never last.
And unlike the musicians, the "Times" didn't hype the avalanche story, nor this new jockey story. They just posted them.
In music, it's all about the set-up. Publicity. We hate it before we even hear it. We're dunned to death and then we ignore it. Which is kind of the story of the Jay-Z Samsung album, never mind a ton of other works that have been forgotten. In music, we boast how great we are, in print/words/writing we just do it.
The "New York Times" did not send me an e-mail telling me to post a widget on my page or tweet about this new jockey story, spreading the word. No, they let the work speak for itself.
That's the new paradigm. How ever much you want to believe it's about publicity, it's not. It's about excellent work.
And people have an unlimited time for excellence. "House of Cards" is better than any record I've heard all year, there's more truth in it than "Yeezus." It bespeaks life. I can't stop talking about it.
And it's thirteen hours long. And I can't wait for the next season.
And the future is hooking people for the long term. We're ready, can you deliver?
P.S. Googling will get you an August 9th link that no longer works which provided a trailer and an opportunity to be e-mailed when the jockey story appeared. Because the "Times" is so inept in online marketing, this had little traction. In other words, even when they tried to advertise, they couldn't do it. But once again, despite this minor effort, it's not about the ad, but the product. Otherwise everything on a billboard would dominate its category, and it doesn't.
"The Jockey": http://www.nytimes.com/projects/2013/the-jockey/#/?chapt=introduction
--
Visit the archive: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/
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