It cemented Randy Rhoads's reputation and made me like Ozzy Osbourne all at the same time. Yes, I'm one of those naysayers who doesn't really care that much for the Prince of Darkness in his original band Black Sabbath, I prefer the solo act. But just like that band in its present incarnation is sans its drummer, the band that cut "Flying High Again" can never reunite, because Bob Daisey and Lee Kerslake have been excommunicated and Randy Rhoads is dead.
Randy Rhoads... He played in an L.A. band with a Japanese deal that could never break outside the Basin. Yes, by time Quiet Riot banged its head all over America, getting everybody to feel the noise, Randy was long gone. You can't keep a superstar down. And the best players always leave, unless they're the band, and if they're not the lead singer, they're not.
So Black Sabbath comes from left field with its debut, out-heavying everybody out there, and then starts fading not long thereafter, still making records, but soon losing quality, certainly after "Paranoid." Then Ozzy gets kicked out and goes solo, like we care. But suddenly, people did.
You've got to understand, L.A. was the king of rock radio. We had so many FM rock stations, it was almost like SiriusXM. We had the soft rock of KNX at 93.1 all the way up to KWST, aka "the Led Zeppelin station," up at 105.9 and KROQ, the home of alternative, even further up the dial. And right smack dab in the middle were the reigning champions. The hip KMET 94.7 and the conservative me-too outlet KLOS at 95.5. And when you hit the weekend, KMET, KLOS and KWST turned it up, in a war for rock supremacy. This is when you heard Foghat, when if it was slow and easy, they didn't play it. And suddenly I started to hear this song again and again. I soon realized it was Ozzy, I recognized the vocal sound, but I could never figure out its name. There was no Internet. You'd comb the albums in the store, but how was I to know it was entitled "Flying High Again"? You just couldn't make out the words through the car speaker. But the hypnotic groove and Randy Rhoads snaking his way up and down the fretboard starting at 2:20, ultimately peeling off the notes so fast and so right, made it so you could never forget this track. Time passed, I started to look forward to the weekend, when I could hear this song once again.
It's the blistering guitarwork. But it's also Ozzy saying "Here we go now..."
Oh no, it's loud guitars and Marshall amps and a sound so deafening half the audience dismisses it on principle. That's why people love metal. Hell, it got faster and noisier as the years passed by, but you can't find a single tattooed gunslinger who will not admit to positively loving Ozzy Osbourne and his work with Randy Rhoads.
Oh, according to Daisy and Kerslake, the former wrote a bunch of the music and most of the lyrics on "Diary Of A Madman," and the latter was mostly responsible for "Flying High Again." And eventually their dissatisfaction with credit and compensation had Sharon wiping their work from the album, but now it's been restored, so it's the same as it ever was.
But it's completely unlike the sound of that band that uttered those lyrics. Yes, while Talking Heads were leading an alternative/new wave revolution, Ozzy was heading further into the hard rock wilderness, and the funny thing is it's his music that's remembered most.
What you want at the show is to be totally enraptured, to become one with the music. And the performance counts, but it starts with the material. "Flying High Again" has got more twists and turns than a roller coaster, it's a ride for only the hearty, who enjoy it so much they don't get off, they keep riding. When you hear "Flying High Again" at the show, you raise your arms in the air, you bang your head, you feel like someone finally gets you!
"Daddy thinks I'm crazy he don't understand
Never saw inside my head
People think I'm crazy but I'm in demand
Never heard a thing I said"
Exactly. They never understand, they stop listening, meanwhile their progeny sneaks out at night, following the Pied Pipers of the new sound, which cannot be denied.
Yes, once upon a time, before MTV, before the facelift, Ozzy Osbourne was dangerous. And we loved him for it.
But even more, we loved his music.
Spotify link: http://spoti.fi/p6HcZ8
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Saturday 14 September 2013
Thursday 12 September 2013
Bogota-My Day With Andrew Loog Oldham
John Lennon was a hustler.
Last night I went to dinner with Fernan. He's a born storyteller. That's the essence of life. Wanna get ahead? Become a raconteur. All the great performers are. Look at Bruce Springsteen, without the stories his shows wouldn't be half as good, and he'd have a third the audience. Life is stories, please share them.
And after getting up too early to do a radio interview after staying up too late Andrew Loog Oldham came to my hotel for a day of adventure.
We hired a car to go downtown, but just as we started ascending the hill, we took a detour, we went on the "Mulholland Drive of Bogota."
Angelenos will know. Actually, everybody in the world knows. Those photos, those scenes in movies where you can see the entire L.A. Basin laid out before you in lights, those are shot from Mulholland Drive, the winding street that separates L.A. from the Valley. Atop a ridge of mountains.
You're cruising along in your tiny machine, all the taxis/hired cars in Bogota are puny, if you've got any luggage, forget it, and on the left is the entire city, laid out like a painting, and on the right there's a hill whereupon the wealthy reside and send their children to school. But if you keep driving, you go through a toll and it's like you're in Switzerland, giant swaths of green climbing mountains, it's exquisitely beautiful and high in the sky, the air is clear and clean and you feel fully alive.
Eventually we made our way down one of the steepest streets I've ever driven on to the Police Museum. We started out alone. Eventually four other people joined our group. How did they all find out? The Lonely Planet! Once upon a time the Lonely Planet was a guidebook competing with Arthur Frommer not so successfully. It was for the adventurous traveler, which is not the majority. But the Web flattens distribution. Now everybody knows. The Lonely Planet is just as powerful as any other tour guide. The word is out. The same way it is for the band that makes phenomenal music that doesn't sign to the major label but does it all by itself.
And the guide was an eighteen year old spending his year of compulsory military service with the police. He said everybody had to do this, Andrew confided in me that this was not true. That you could buy your way out.
And while you're pondering that I'll tell you we saw some of the history of Colombia and the police force and then they took us into the drug war rooms.
Wow.
There's the mobile phone upon which Pablo Escobar made his last call. The roof tile his head lay upon after he was killed. The Harley of his cousin. Isn't it funny that the musical acts of the nineties have been completely forgotten, but the legend of Pablo Escobar lives on. Because he lived outside the law, like the acts of the sixties, if only in their minds. When everybody becomes complicit, they're no longer heroes.
And from there a cab ride all the way across town that cost us...four dollars. Huh?
But I will tell you the cab had no seatbelts. It was frightening. How safe are you really? I had a friend who got broadsided in a limo, she hurt for a year, you are not invulnerable just because someone else is driving.
And in between hearing about Bogota, I heard about the Stones. The Immediate acts.
Andrew says unlike so many performers, the Stones were not boys, but men. It made all the difference. So many of today's acts are still children. Calling Michael Jackson!
Andrew's waxing rhapsodic about the recording of "Paint It Black." Tells me that not long thereafter, Brian Jones no longer wanted to play the guitar, but he got excited about adding new instruments. Tell him you wanted to add a timbale and he'd go home and learn it and come back and nail it.
As for "Satisfaction"... They cut it in Chicago and it didn't work. But after redoing it, Andrew knew it was a smash.
And I heard about Charlie saying no to some of Keith's rubbish. And about Bill Wyman leaving the band. And how Jimmy Miller added to Andrew's royalties, since he had publishing rights into the seventies, the Allen Klein era.
How did Allen Klein end up owning the Stones' masters?
I'll let Andrew tell you. Not that he's sure he knows. But Andrew was smart enough not to sell them to anybody else yet ultimately Klein ended up with them. Amazing.
And while we're eating lunch thereafter, in a free-flowing conversation all your heroes of the sixties come up, not because Andrew's boasting, but because he knows them.
The Beatles? Andrew was their press agent for a few months. And in the studio with the Stones he was frustrated about their lack of material and he stepped outside to clear his head and he ran into John and Paul who said they had just the song, "I Wanna Be Your Man"! They walked back to the studio, played it on guitar for the Stones, said they hadn't worked out certain parts yet, but the truth was they'd already cut it with Ringo the week before.
They were hustlers.
Not that Brian Epstein didn't help.
The Beatles, the Stones and the Who. No one else came close, they were the top tier, because they had the best management! The Kinks had second-rate management, a second-rate label and a bad publisher. It makes a difference!
But the truth is it all starts with the act. We traded McCartney stories. Paul never checked out, he knows everything about his career, the Eastmans helped, but Paul's the driver.
As for Lennon... Andrew was always wary of being cut to ribbons in conversation, but it was John who'd confide how to score both cash and drugs making a record. He knew how the game worked.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg. And it might be yesterday, but since the classic rock era no one's come up with music that's gonna last. You can wipe the nineties from the map. Most of the twenty first century too. Because the originals...were different as people. They were not replicating the formula, but creating it. And they saw music as a game they could conquer. They looked for the edge. And worked it.
And it's so funny to be talking classic rock in Bogota. But we all come from somewhere. Andrew talked about being an exchange student in Stuttgart in 1957. Germany had lost the war but won the battle. They had the autobahn and skyscrapers, all that American money had rebuilt the country to a level higher than the U.K., the victors.
And music travels everywhere. But place is important. Roots. Where you come from.
We live in a subculture with its own history not covered in the mainstream press, but in conversation. Oh, the newspaper will tell you what went to number one, but it won't tell you how the money was divided, the personalities of those who created the hits. You learn that stuff in stolen moments. It's these gems we live for.
P.S. There's no toilet paper! You get into the stall, you start to make and...you notice, there's no Charmin! At first you're flummoxed, rummaging through the cubicle. Then you panic. I thought it was only at Monserrate, where I paid to pee. I found some paper atop a ledge. On the way out I saw a package of...what looked like napkins, inside the booth of the woman who took the change. But it turns out it's not only there. I'm at the Police Museum and... Let's just say I ultimately found there was one main dispenser that you had to extract what you needed from on your way in. Who knew?
P.P.S. Pablo Escobar's gun. He kept this tiny revolver hidden in his clothing: http://bit.ly/19MolwO
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Last night I went to dinner with Fernan. He's a born storyteller. That's the essence of life. Wanna get ahead? Become a raconteur. All the great performers are. Look at Bruce Springsteen, without the stories his shows wouldn't be half as good, and he'd have a third the audience. Life is stories, please share them.
And after getting up too early to do a radio interview after staying up too late Andrew Loog Oldham came to my hotel for a day of adventure.
We hired a car to go downtown, but just as we started ascending the hill, we took a detour, we went on the "Mulholland Drive of Bogota."
Angelenos will know. Actually, everybody in the world knows. Those photos, those scenes in movies where you can see the entire L.A. Basin laid out before you in lights, those are shot from Mulholland Drive, the winding street that separates L.A. from the Valley. Atop a ridge of mountains.
You're cruising along in your tiny machine, all the taxis/hired cars in Bogota are puny, if you've got any luggage, forget it, and on the left is the entire city, laid out like a painting, and on the right there's a hill whereupon the wealthy reside and send their children to school. But if you keep driving, you go through a toll and it's like you're in Switzerland, giant swaths of green climbing mountains, it's exquisitely beautiful and high in the sky, the air is clear and clean and you feel fully alive.
Eventually we made our way down one of the steepest streets I've ever driven on to the Police Museum. We started out alone. Eventually four other people joined our group. How did they all find out? The Lonely Planet! Once upon a time the Lonely Planet was a guidebook competing with Arthur Frommer not so successfully. It was for the adventurous traveler, which is not the majority. But the Web flattens distribution. Now everybody knows. The Lonely Planet is just as powerful as any other tour guide. The word is out. The same way it is for the band that makes phenomenal music that doesn't sign to the major label but does it all by itself.
And the guide was an eighteen year old spending his year of compulsory military service with the police. He said everybody had to do this, Andrew confided in me that this was not true. That you could buy your way out.
And while you're pondering that I'll tell you we saw some of the history of Colombia and the police force and then they took us into the drug war rooms.
Wow.
There's the mobile phone upon which Pablo Escobar made his last call. The roof tile his head lay upon after he was killed. The Harley of his cousin. Isn't it funny that the musical acts of the nineties have been completely forgotten, but the legend of Pablo Escobar lives on. Because he lived outside the law, like the acts of the sixties, if only in their minds. When everybody becomes complicit, they're no longer heroes.
And from there a cab ride all the way across town that cost us...four dollars. Huh?
But I will tell you the cab had no seatbelts. It was frightening. How safe are you really? I had a friend who got broadsided in a limo, she hurt for a year, you are not invulnerable just because someone else is driving.
And in between hearing about Bogota, I heard about the Stones. The Immediate acts.
Andrew says unlike so many performers, the Stones were not boys, but men. It made all the difference. So many of today's acts are still children. Calling Michael Jackson!
Andrew's waxing rhapsodic about the recording of "Paint It Black." Tells me that not long thereafter, Brian Jones no longer wanted to play the guitar, but he got excited about adding new instruments. Tell him you wanted to add a timbale and he'd go home and learn it and come back and nail it.
As for "Satisfaction"... They cut it in Chicago and it didn't work. But after redoing it, Andrew knew it was a smash.
And I heard about Charlie saying no to some of Keith's rubbish. And about Bill Wyman leaving the band. And how Jimmy Miller added to Andrew's royalties, since he had publishing rights into the seventies, the Allen Klein era.
How did Allen Klein end up owning the Stones' masters?
I'll let Andrew tell you. Not that he's sure he knows. But Andrew was smart enough not to sell them to anybody else yet ultimately Klein ended up with them. Amazing.
And while we're eating lunch thereafter, in a free-flowing conversation all your heroes of the sixties come up, not because Andrew's boasting, but because he knows them.
The Beatles? Andrew was their press agent for a few months. And in the studio with the Stones he was frustrated about their lack of material and he stepped outside to clear his head and he ran into John and Paul who said they had just the song, "I Wanna Be Your Man"! They walked back to the studio, played it on guitar for the Stones, said they hadn't worked out certain parts yet, but the truth was they'd already cut it with Ringo the week before.
They were hustlers.
Not that Brian Epstein didn't help.
The Beatles, the Stones and the Who. No one else came close, they were the top tier, because they had the best management! The Kinks had second-rate management, a second-rate label and a bad publisher. It makes a difference!
But the truth is it all starts with the act. We traded McCartney stories. Paul never checked out, he knows everything about his career, the Eastmans helped, but Paul's the driver.
As for Lennon... Andrew was always wary of being cut to ribbons in conversation, but it was John who'd confide how to score both cash and drugs making a record. He knew how the game worked.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg. And it might be yesterday, but since the classic rock era no one's come up with music that's gonna last. You can wipe the nineties from the map. Most of the twenty first century too. Because the originals...were different as people. They were not replicating the formula, but creating it. And they saw music as a game they could conquer. They looked for the edge. And worked it.
And it's so funny to be talking classic rock in Bogota. But we all come from somewhere. Andrew talked about being an exchange student in Stuttgart in 1957. Germany had lost the war but won the battle. They had the autobahn and skyscrapers, all that American money had rebuilt the country to a level higher than the U.K., the victors.
And music travels everywhere. But place is important. Roots. Where you come from.
We live in a subculture with its own history not covered in the mainstream press, but in conversation. Oh, the newspaper will tell you what went to number one, but it won't tell you how the money was divided, the personalities of those who created the hits. You learn that stuff in stolen moments. It's these gems we live for.
P.S. There's no toilet paper! You get into the stall, you start to make and...you notice, there's no Charmin! At first you're flummoxed, rummaging through the cubicle. Then you panic. I thought it was only at Monserrate, where I paid to pee. I found some paper atop a ledge. On the way out I saw a package of...what looked like napkins, inside the booth of the woman who took the change. But it turns out it's not only there. I'm at the Police Museum and... Let's just say I ultimately found there was one main dispenser that you had to extract what you needed from on your way in. Who knew?
P.P.S. Pablo Escobar's gun. He kept this tiny revolver hidden in his clothing: http://bit.ly/19MolwO
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Clear Channel Direct Deals
Have got to stop!
Bob Pittman is everything that's wrong with the terrestrial radio business, trying to cut an advantage while screwing not only competitors, but all those without clout.
Wanna change the system Bob? Go to Washington, D.C. and agitate for recording use payments for everybody! This would truly be good for music, because not only would a new pool of money be created, it would release all the monies held around the world which are not disbursed because we don't have this right in the U.S. Yes, without reciprocity, there's no payment.
And this may be too arcane for those not attorneys, but here's the story.
In the U.S., the holder of the copyright in the recording does not get paid when a song is played on terrestrial radio, only the owner and writer of the underlying song. This is like you've got to pay for a car, but the gas is free. Huh?
So, trying to look like a hero, Bob Pittman says Clear Channel will pay!
But he cherry-picks who he gives money to. And it's not benevolence. In return, you've got to show up at the iHeart Radio Festival. You've got to give to get. And if you're a developing act on an independent label, you get no money.
So what we've got is Balkanization. Clear Channel is muddying the waters, not clearing them. But no one in government is clear enough to understand this and stand up to Pittman. They say it's all "business" and they stay out of it. But the truth is only the government can legislate payment for usage of recordings on terrestrial radio.
As for Internet and satellite, THEY PAY!
Now you may have seen recent lawsuits regarding SiriusXM. Where they don't pay for the use of pre '72 recordings. I applaud said lawsuits. Why can't artists and the companies that record and promote them share in the growth of new technologies? Especially when it's classic rock that helps fuel that growth!
You can read today's Ben Sisario's "New York Times" piece re this:
http://nyti.ms/16nhLNz
But the point is, no one will stand up to Pittman and Clear Channel because they're afraid their records won't get spun.
But I am.
BOB, STOP THE MADNESS! IF YOU REALLY CARE, PAY EVERYBODY!
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Bob Pittman is everything that's wrong with the terrestrial radio business, trying to cut an advantage while screwing not only competitors, but all those without clout.
Wanna change the system Bob? Go to Washington, D.C. and agitate for recording use payments for everybody! This would truly be good for music, because not only would a new pool of money be created, it would release all the monies held around the world which are not disbursed because we don't have this right in the U.S. Yes, without reciprocity, there's no payment.
And this may be too arcane for those not attorneys, but here's the story.
In the U.S., the holder of the copyright in the recording does not get paid when a song is played on terrestrial radio, only the owner and writer of the underlying song. This is like you've got to pay for a car, but the gas is free. Huh?
So, trying to look like a hero, Bob Pittman says Clear Channel will pay!
But he cherry-picks who he gives money to. And it's not benevolence. In return, you've got to show up at the iHeart Radio Festival. You've got to give to get. And if you're a developing act on an independent label, you get no money.
So what we've got is Balkanization. Clear Channel is muddying the waters, not clearing them. But no one in government is clear enough to understand this and stand up to Pittman. They say it's all "business" and they stay out of it. But the truth is only the government can legislate payment for usage of recordings on terrestrial radio.
As for Internet and satellite, THEY PAY!
Now you may have seen recent lawsuits regarding SiriusXM. Where they don't pay for the use of pre '72 recordings. I applaud said lawsuits. Why can't artists and the companies that record and promote them share in the growth of new technologies? Especially when it's classic rock that helps fuel that growth!
You can read today's Ben Sisario's "New York Times" piece re this:
http://nyti.ms/16nhLNz
But the point is, no one will stand up to Pittman and Clear Channel because they're afraid their records won't get spun.
But I am.
BOB, STOP THE MADNESS! IF YOU REALLY CARE, PAY EVERYBODY!
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Wednesday 11 September 2013
BOMM
They clean the bathrooms.
In America it's once and done. By time you hit 10:30 AM, by time you've hit intermission, the loo is overflowing and you enter gingerly, only if you truly must do your business. But in Bogota, they've cleaned it multiple times already.
That's just one of the differences.
There's also no bloviating. That's what you've got at the rest of the conferences, bloviating and wannabes. No issue of any importance has every been solved at a conference. Because the big people don't go and when they do, they only speak in platitudes, big issues are worked out behind closed doors.
But in Bogota it's different. There's no bloviating (other than by me!) and the talent is…positively first class.
Yup, I travel to another town where a hundred (a thousand!) bands have flown in for a chance at stardom. They flier the crowd and end up performing their substandard music to few, bitching about the system all along. But at BOMM, the Bogota Music Market, the showcases are during the day, there are almost no panels, and all the talent has you stroking your chin saying…wait a minute, this is good!
Although I must admit, the material hasn't always been A+. That's what you need, especially to break out of your home market into a foreign land. Undeniable material. And if you want to succeed in your own country, you can deliver no less than an A. In other words, you've got to be in the top track in your high school and you've got to get into an Ivy League college and still that's no guarantee.
In other words, if you're one of those slackers not fully applying yourself, making fun of the strivers, the joke's on you. Because in music, it's the strivers who make it. Not those who talk about their music, but those who do it.
Furthermore, BOMM is FREE! Imagine that, a conference that's not about lining the pockets of the producers. Oh, we've all got to eat, but BOMM is sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce, trying to spread the word. Hell, everybody but the U.S. has governmental support. That's how all these bands fly in from everywhere, they got government money! Not that I'm lobbying for more government support for the arts in the U.S., unfortunately it ends up going to the niche players as opposed to those truly on a rocket to stardom, those who know how to work the government game are usually best at that and not so good at popularity, and that's the real game.
Did you read the "New York Times Magazine" article on popularity? (http://nyti.ms/18Drjm6) A bunch of sour grapes but they got one thing right, popularity ain't what it used to be. You can be king of your world and the rest of the population can be clueless as to who you even are, never mind what your music sounds like.
But I did hear one band I liked. Diamente Electrico. I was standing in the hall and through the door I heard a sound…
Is your music that good? That I get it and want to hear more of it muffled through a wall? That's how good you've got to be!
Diamente Electrico is a three piece that sounds like a cross between Green Day and Muse, with a bit of Zeppelin thrown in. They could make it in America. If they played on the festival circuit they'd get traction. That's what you want to do now, play the festivals, where people haven't paid to see you specifically, where they're grazing and stumble upon you. The truly great and developed can go it alone. Everybody else needs the springboard of the festival.
Speaking of festivals, can you believe death and drugs are gonna kill electronic music festivals? Just when the big boys got in. Maybe they should have stayed out. But remember, after Woodstock every festival tanked. Because nobody wanted all those hippies in their backyard. It was only recently that communities could see the financial benefit. And I know people die at Bonnaroo too, but this is a serious problem and I'm not sure of the solution. Playing to the government is usually death. Remember the PMRC? But going independent is hard. Maybe EDM has to go small again before it can truly be big. The odds of death are fewer the smaller the crowd. Maybe the paradigm can't be festivals until we've got more traction in the U.S. Meanwhile, EDM festivals are still flourishing in Europe.
And they asked me about EDM in Bogota.
Sure, everybody's trying to get ahead here too. But everybody's so nice. And I saw bands with nine or ten players, nobody would do that in the U.S., they'd ask where the money is! They don't want to split it that many ways! But if you make it about the music first, then maybe you've got a chance.
And speaking of big bands, did you see Larry David's movie on HBO? What a mistake! Proving that it's not about the one big hit, but the continuous series. Your album can sink like a stone, keep putting out singles. Multiple episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" is much better for keeping your name in the public eye than one movie I can't remember the name of. You don't want to make a big splash, you want to sustain. And if you do, you might get a "Palestinian Chicken," there were no hooks in that Larry David movie other than the girlfriends blowing the members of Chicago.
So I'm hanging at the venue all day. Everybody wants a picture. Instagram is the new autograph. It's about sharing your experience with your friends, not hoarding your possessions at home.
And I'm still loving Bogota. But you're lucky if you live in the U.S. Because of the REGULATIONS!
That's right. Don't listen to the Republicans saying we've got to get rid of them to drive business, that's complete hogwash. Because you know who gets screwed? YOU! Or your relative. I'm walking to dinner last night and there was a sudden longitudinal curb, created by a restaurant, and I fell off and I twisted my ankle and I'll survive but I haven't done it this bad in years. Wouldn't ever happen in the U.S. Because of regulations. And if someone screwed up, you'd sue. Not for personal gain, but to make sure businesses do the right thing! That's the essence of tort law. But the Republican blowhards keep trumpeting occasional big liability awards to get the public agitated to prevent them. Hell, corporations gutted whistleblower laws, and now we've got Snowden and the NSA. Come on, they put fingerprint recognition in the new iPhone and everyone's complaining online about security, even though Apple says no data will be stored on their servers. Everyone's paranoid, everyone's worried about privacy. And that's a good thing. Credit Snowden.
As for Apple, I just don't get it. The iPhone 5C costs almost as much as a 5S! The difference is only a hundred dollars! They haven't learned their own lesson, which in tech means you want to dominate. You don't want a share of the market, but all of it. Sell a phone cheap for the advantages of owning the ecosystem, what you can sell in the future. Jobs could see this, the new players cannot.
And speaking of phones, I was speaking with a TV star here in Bogota. You know what kind of phone she uses? A SAMSUNG! Why? Because they gave it to her! They even tried to convert me. The only promise they wanted to extract was I give up my iPhone. Which I won't do. Then again, Samsung never had an original idea in its life. Can you believe they introduced a phone just because Apple registered the term "iWatch"??
So I know I'm rambling.
But it's because I'm stimulated. Just when you think you don't care about music anymore, it sneaks back up on you. Because of its power, because of the community of people who make it.
Music is the most powerful medium on earth. And we've run it through the gutter ever since the advent of MTV. We've whored it out and abused it. Thank god it won't die, but not until we respect it and realize we're not on the same side as the Fortune 500 will it become the dominant art form once again.
Proof in point. They pick me up at the hotel and Wendy's in the front seat humming a song.
I ask her what it is?
Amy Winehouse!
A dead musician. Who'll never make another record. And she wasn't humming "Rehab," but an album track. Whatever Obama said last night will be forgotten, but great music lives on FOREVER!
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In America it's once and done. By time you hit 10:30 AM, by time you've hit intermission, the loo is overflowing and you enter gingerly, only if you truly must do your business. But in Bogota, they've cleaned it multiple times already.
That's just one of the differences.
There's also no bloviating. That's what you've got at the rest of the conferences, bloviating and wannabes. No issue of any importance has every been solved at a conference. Because the big people don't go and when they do, they only speak in platitudes, big issues are worked out behind closed doors.
But in Bogota it's different. There's no bloviating (other than by me!) and the talent is…positively first class.
Yup, I travel to another town where a hundred (a thousand!) bands have flown in for a chance at stardom. They flier the crowd and end up performing their substandard music to few, bitching about the system all along. But at BOMM, the Bogota Music Market, the showcases are during the day, there are almost no panels, and all the talent has you stroking your chin saying…wait a minute, this is good!
Although I must admit, the material hasn't always been A+. That's what you need, especially to break out of your home market into a foreign land. Undeniable material. And if you want to succeed in your own country, you can deliver no less than an A. In other words, you've got to be in the top track in your high school and you've got to get into an Ivy League college and still that's no guarantee.
In other words, if you're one of those slackers not fully applying yourself, making fun of the strivers, the joke's on you. Because in music, it's the strivers who make it. Not those who talk about their music, but those who do it.
Furthermore, BOMM is FREE! Imagine that, a conference that's not about lining the pockets of the producers. Oh, we've all got to eat, but BOMM is sponsored by the Chamber of Commerce, trying to spread the word. Hell, everybody but the U.S. has governmental support. That's how all these bands fly in from everywhere, they got government money! Not that I'm lobbying for more government support for the arts in the U.S., unfortunately it ends up going to the niche players as opposed to those truly on a rocket to stardom, those who know how to work the government game are usually best at that and not so good at popularity, and that's the real game.
Did you read the "New York Times Magazine" article on popularity? (http://nyti.ms/18Drjm6) A bunch of sour grapes but they got one thing right, popularity ain't what it used to be. You can be king of your world and the rest of the population can be clueless as to who you even are, never mind what your music sounds like.
But I did hear one band I liked. Diamente Electrico. I was standing in the hall and through the door I heard a sound…
Is your music that good? That I get it and want to hear more of it muffled through a wall? That's how good you've got to be!
Diamente Electrico is a three piece that sounds like a cross between Green Day and Muse, with a bit of Zeppelin thrown in. They could make it in America. If they played on the festival circuit they'd get traction. That's what you want to do now, play the festivals, where people haven't paid to see you specifically, where they're grazing and stumble upon you. The truly great and developed can go it alone. Everybody else needs the springboard of the festival.
Speaking of festivals, can you believe death and drugs are gonna kill electronic music festivals? Just when the big boys got in. Maybe they should have stayed out. But remember, after Woodstock every festival tanked. Because nobody wanted all those hippies in their backyard. It was only recently that communities could see the financial benefit. And I know people die at Bonnaroo too, but this is a serious problem and I'm not sure of the solution. Playing to the government is usually death. Remember the PMRC? But going independent is hard. Maybe EDM has to go small again before it can truly be big. The odds of death are fewer the smaller the crowd. Maybe the paradigm can't be festivals until we've got more traction in the U.S. Meanwhile, EDM festivals are still flourishing in Europe.
And they asked me about EDM in Bogota.
Sure, everybody's trying to get ahead here too. But everybody's so nice. And I saw bands with nine or ten players, nobody would do that in the U.S., they'd ask where the money is! They don't want to split it that many ways! But if you make it about the music first, then maybe you've got a chance.
And speaking of big bands, did you see Larry David's movie on HBO? What a mistake! Proving that it's not about the one big hit, but the continuous series. Your album can sink like a stone, keep putting out singles. Multiple episodes of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" is much better for keeping your name in the public eye than one movie I can't remember the name of. You don't want to make a big splash, you want to sustain. And if you do, you might get a "Palestinian Chicken," there were no hooks in that Larry David movie other than the girlfriends blowing the members of Chicago.
So I'm hanging at the venue all day. Everybody wants a picture. Instagram is the new autograph. It's about sharing your experience with your friends, not hoarding your possessions at home.
And I'm still loving Bogota. But you're lucky if you live in the U.S. Because of the REGULATIONS!
That's right. Don't listen to the Republicans saying we've got to get rid of them to drive business, that's complete hogwash. Because you know who gets screwed? YOU! Or your relative. I'm walking to dinner last night and there was a sudden longitudinal curb, created by a restaurant, and I fell off and I twisted my ankle and I'll survive but I haven't done it this bad in years. Wouldn't ever happen in the U.S. Because of regulations. And if someone screwed up, you'd sue. Not for personal gain, but to make sure businesses do the right thing! That's the essence of tort law. But the Republican blowhards keep trumpeting occasional big liability awards to get the public agitated to prevent them. Hell, corporations gutted whistleblower laws, and now we've got Snowden and the NSA. Come on, they put fingerprint recognition in the new iPhone and everyone's complaining online about security, even though Apple says no data will be stored on their servers. Everyone's paranoid, everyone's worried about privacy. And that's a good thing. Credit Snowden.
As for Apple, I just don't get it. The iPhone 5C costs almost as much as a 5S! The difference is only a hundred dollars! They haven't learned their own lesson, which in tech means you want to dominate. You don't want a share of the market, but all of it. Sell a phone cheap for the advantages of owning the ecosystem, what you can sell in the future. Jobs could see this, the new players cannot.
And speaking of phones, I was speaking with a TV star here in Bogota. You know what kind of phone she uses? A SAMSUNG! Why? Because they gave it to her! They even tried to convert me. The only promise they wanted to extract was I give up my iPhone. Which I won't do. Then again, Samsung never had an original idea in its life. Can you believe they introduced a phone just because Apple registered the term "iWatch"??
So I know I'm rambling.
But it's because I'm stimulated. Just when you think you don't care about music anymore, it sneaks back up on you. Because of its power, because of the community of people who make it.
Music is the most powerful medium on earth. And we've run it through the gutter ever since the advent of MTV. We've whored it out and abused it. Thank god it won't die, but not until we respect it and realize we're not on the same side as the Fortune 500 will it become the dominant art form once again.
Proof in point. They pick me up at the hotel and Wendy's in the front seat humming a song.
I ask her what it is?
Amy Winehouse!
A dead musician. Who'll never make another record. And she wasn't humming "Rehab," but an album track. Whatever Obama said last night will be forgotten, but great music lives on FOREVER!
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Tuesday 10 September 2013
Bogota Day Two
I love it here!
I think it's the weather. Live in Los Angeles long enough and you forget those New England fall days. When the sun isn't so bright and there's just a hint of crispness in the air and even though the world is dying, you feel so alive.
Funny to be reminded of seasons in a place where there are none. But when the sun starts to fade in the middle of the afternoon I get that feeling I do when I listen to my favorite records, when it's just me, enveloped in the sound, looking at the liner notes or staring out the window. The cold weather makes everybody a better conversationalist. It's as if talking keeps you warm.
And the Colombians know how to talk.
Everybody's so friendly! The U.S. is about airs. About your place in the firmament. You wear your status on your sleeve. But everybody I've interacted with is...eager to do just that. Interact! Talk! Tell their story! Hear yours!
And I've heard some doozies.
But before I get started I do want to say that income inequality is rampant in Bogota, just like in the United States. But unlike in the U.S., the poor people live in the hills, not the rich. Oh, the rich are on some of the mountaintops encircling the city, but just below them are...well not exactly shanties, but just by looking at these habitats you know they're not upscale. You see the poor people build on the fringe, on the hills, they squat, and eventually their domiciles are legalized.
Bogota is like L.A. Or Berlin. Essentially flat and endless. Getting from one end to the other is hell. There is no subway, I saw only one train. There are these mini-buses, seemingly always full, that dart around, but Wendy said she hadn't ridden in one and never would.
Because she was afraid.
And Fernan's Nissan is armored. Cost him 30k on top of the 60k for the Xterra to begin with. Everything's cheap here but the cars. Well, if it's imported, it's probably expensive. If it's homegrown, the prices can seem absurdly low to a gringo.
Like lunch. An exclusive place in the business district. Well, the old business district, about thirty years ago the whole city moved north, this is close to downtown. There was no sign on the door. You had to step over the transom. The door to the bathroom was...like the door to a stall. But the tablecloths were white and the fusion food was exquisite and in L.A. the meal for the three of us would have been about $240, eighty dollars apiece. But here it was $90.
And last night at Andres, for three once again, it was even cheaper!
Andres... On one hand you think it's a tourist trap. Kind of like the Great American Food and Beverage Company, if you've lived in L.A. that long. Singing waiters. Well, kinda. But it turns out to be one of the best restaurants in Bogota! The original, outside of town, is the most famous, where people dance on the tables. But this one, not far from my hotel, has four levels. And there are roving musicians. And the food to a gringo is like Mexican, but not really. There were these tiny little pork ribs. And empanadas. And this pie-like concoction that seemed to be filled with potato latkes and meat, you dipped it in sour cream, and I could not stop eating it. And then they served steak on a plate so hot it continued to cook, and it was scrumptious! As for dessert, it was cheese in this maple syrup type sauce and to say it was delicious is an understatement. And, there's a roving band, and of course they said it was my birthday, so they put a sash and a crown upon me and this woman in a cat suit sang to me and normally I'm too embarrassed to endure fake birthdays, but this was hilarious.
And all through dinner Fernan was regaling me with his stories. Of working with Julio Iglesias. Julio's hilarious. Narcissistic as hell, he knows what it takes to be successful, what side to be photographed from, how to arrive late and leave early from a party (Julio has always got to be somewhere!), how to make sure people don't see his deficiencies. It was a book, a sitcom, a movie, the stories were endless. And Fernan managed Julio's son, Enrique. And then Juanes. He was turned off by the tattoos, but once Fernan's wife wanted one, he was hipped to the new reality.
And Fernan's promoting Beyonce in a stadium in Medellin, and he did Paul McCartney, who brought his buddy up on stage to protest bull fighting, which has now been banned, but Fernan took me to the bullring anyway, which was ancient and impressive. And having started out as a journalist, Fernan's a man of ideas. He's always thinking. Of angles. No one makes it without a good manager. And I could see he is one.
And we went downtown to see the President's Palace and... There were a ton of police and areas were roped off because of last week's protests, all the roads were closed then. Those in agriculture are angry. Because of fair trade with America, the bottom is falling out of prices. They're beyond pissed. Americans are shipping the parts of chickens people won't eat, everything but the breast, and chicken prices have crashed. It's a quagmire.
And the mayor is an old guerilla. He just passed an ordinance wherein if you build a high rise, which was previously forbidden, you have to dedicate 30% of the floor space to the poor, or pay a 30% tax to fund housing for the poor. He went over the city council's head. To employ a pun, it's still up in the air.
But Colombia's economy is humming, with oil and other natural resources. America loves it, since so many South American countries lean further left. And the Americans helped halt the drug war, but the drug trade won't be stopped until there's legalization, the farmers can't say no to the amount of money they're paid to grow cocaine.
And speaking of crime, Wendy's father, Rafael Orozco, the famous vallenato singer, was gunned down by the Mafia two decades ago. He was stepping out on her mother with a girlfriend who was also dating a Mafia member and... They just made a TV movie about it, got the highest ratings of the year. Fernan's client was the star. Oh, he's got about fourteen actors and actresses and he represents the striker for the Colombian football/soccer team which is playing for a World Cup berth right now!
The city's insane! There are big screens in the park! Everybody's in yellow jerseys! It's as if the Yankees were playing Manchester United... Everyone's so excited, if they win there will be pandemonium!
We were just walking through the streets, it was palpable.
The vibe. That's what Bogota's about, the vibe. There's a sense of life. And lifestyle. Everybody in the U.S. is so busy trying to get ahead that they don't know how to relax.
Then again, Fernan never does. He's worried about the price of potatoes, grown on his farm in the mountains outside of town!
But he only lives in Colombia one week out of every four. The rest of the time he's in Miami, where seemingly every Colombian has a relative, it's almost a suburb.
And I feel like I've fallen down a rabbit hole into a world I was aware of but never fully understood.
And feeling emboldened I'm gonna stride out of the hotel in search of supper. Wish me luck!
My "birthday" (with Fernan) at Andres: http://bit.ly/17oHhS7
Bogota from Monserrate (a peak by the city, we took a cable car up): http://bit.ly/1d4zifl
The Presidential Palace: http://bit.ly/17oHsgn
The bullring: http://bit.ly/14JY9zp
Dinner: http://www.andrescarnederes.com/es/
Lunch: http://leonorespinosa.com/en/
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I think it's the weather. Live in Los Angeles long enough and you forget those New England fall days. When the sun isn't so bright and there's just a hint of crispness in the air and even though the world is dying, you feel so alive.
Funny to be reminded of seasons in a place where there are none. But when the sun starts to fade in the middle of the afternoon I get that feeling I do when I listen to my favorite records, when it's just me, enveloped in the sound, looking at the liner notes or staring out the window. The cold weather makes everybody a better conversationalist. It's as if talking keeps you warm.
And the Colombians know how to talk.
Everybody's so friendly! The U.S. is about airs. About your place in the firmament. You wear your status on your sleeve. But everybody I've interacted with is...eager to do just that. Interact! Talk! Tell their story! Hear yours!
And I've heard some doozies.
But before I get started I do want to say that income inequality is rampant in Bogota, just like in the United States. But unlike in the U.S., the poor people live in the hills, not the rich. Oh, the rich are on some of the mountaintops encircling the city, but just below them are...well not exactly shanties, but just by looking at these habitats you know they're not upscale. You see the poor people build on the fringe, on the hills, they squat, and eventually their domiciles are legalized.
Bogota is like L.A. Or Berlin. Essentially flat and endless. Getting from one end to the other is hell. There is no subway, I saw only one train. There are these mini-buses, seemingly always full, that dart around, but Wendy said she hadn't ridden in one and never would.
Because she was afraid.
And Fernan's Nissan is armored. Cost him 30k on top of the 60k for the Xterra to begin with. Everything's cheap here but the cars. Well, if it's imported, it's probably expensive. If it's homegrown, the prices can seem absurdly low to a gringo.
Like lunch. An exclusive place in the business district. Well, the old business district, about thirty years ago the whole city moved north, this is close to downtown. There was no sign on the door. You had to step over the transom. The door to the bathroom was...like the door to a stall. But the tablecloths were white and the fusion food was exquisite and in L.A. the meal for the three of us would have been about $240, eighty dollars apiece. But here it was $90.
And last night at Andres, for three once again, it was even cheaper!
Andres... On one hand you think it's a tourist trap. Kind of like the Great American Food and Beverage Company, if you've lived in L.A. that long. Singing waiters. Well, kinda. But it turns out to be one of the best restaurants in Bogota! The original, outside of town, is the most famous, where people dance on the tables. But this one, not far from my hotel, has four levels. And there are roving musicians. And the food to a gringo is like Mexican, but not really. There were these tiny little pork ribs. And empanadas. And this pie-like concoction that seemed to be filled with potato latkes and meat, you dipped it in sour cream, and I could not stop eating it. And then they served steak on a plate so hot it continued to cook, and it was scrumptious! As for dessert, it was cheese in this maple syrup type sauce and to say it was delicious is an understatement. And, there's a roving band, and of course they said it was my birthday, so they put a sash and a crown upon me and this woman in a cat suit sang to me and normally I'm too embarrassed to endure fake birthdays, but this was hilarious.
And all through dinner Fernan was regaling me with his stories. Of working with Julio Iglesias. Julio's hilarious. Narcissistic as hell, he knows what it takes to be successful, what side to be photographed from, how to arrive late and leave early from a party (Julio has always got to be somewhere!), how to make sure people don't see his deficiencies. It was a book, a sitcom, a movie, the stories were endless. And Fernan managed Julio's son, Enrique. And then Juanes. He was turned off by the tattoos, but once Fernan's wife wanted one, he was hipped to the new reality.
And Fernan's promoting Beyonce in a stadium in Medellin, and he did Paul McCartney, who brought his buddy up on stage to protest bull fighting, which has now been banned, but Fernan took me to the bullring anyway, which was ancient and impressive. And having started out as a journalist, Fernan's a man of ideas. He's always thinking. Of angles. No one makes it without a good manager. And I could see he is one.
And we went downtown to see the President's Palace and... There were a ton of police and areas were roped off because of last week's protests, all the roads were closed then. Those in agriculture are angry. Because of fair trade with America, the bottom is falling out of prices. They're beyond pissed. Americans are shipping the parts of chickens people won't eat, everything but the breast, and chicken prices have crashed. It's a quagmire.
And the mayor is an old guerilla. He just passed an ordinance wherein if you build a high rise, which was previously forbidden, you have to dedicate 30% of the floor space to the poor, or pay a 30% tax to fund housing for the poor. He went over the city council's head. To employ a pun, it's still up in the air.
But Colombia's economy is humming, with oil and other natural resources. America loves it, since so many South American countries lean further left. And the Americans helped halt the drug war, but the drug trade won't be stopped until there's legalization, the farmers can't say no to the amount of money they're paid to grow cocaine.
And speaking of crime, Wendy's father, Rafael Orozco, the famous vallenato singer, was gunned down by the Mafia two decades ago. He was stepping out on her mother with a girlfriend who was also dating a Mafia member and... They just made a TV movie about it, got the highest ratings of the year. Fernan's client was the star. Oh, he's got about fourteen actors and actresses and he represents the striker for the Colombian football/soccer team which is playing for a World Cup berth right now!
The city's insane! There are big screens in the park! Everybody's in yellow jerseys! It's as if the Yankees were playing Manchester United... Everyone's so excited, if they win there will be pandemonium!
We were just walking through the streets, it was palpable.
The vibe. That's what Bogota's about, the vibe. There's a sense of life. And lifestyle. Everybody in the U.S. is so busy trying to get ahead that they don't know how to relax.
Then again, Fernan never does. He's worried about the price of potatoes, grown on his farm in the mountains outside of town!
But he only lives in Colombia one week out of every four. The rest of the time he's in Miami, where seemingly every Colombian has a relative, it's almost a suburb.
And I feel like I've fallen down a rabbit hole into a world I was aware of but never fully understood.
And feeling emboldened I'm gonna stride out of the hotel in search of supper. Wish me luck!
My "birthday" (with Fernan) at Andres: http://bit.ly/17oHhS7
Bogota from Monserrate (a peak by the city, we took a cable car up): http://bit.ly/1d4zifl
The Presidential Palace: http://bit.ly/17oHsgn
The bullring: http://bit.ly/14JY9zp
Dinner: http://www.andrescarnederes.com/es/
Lunch: http://leonorespinosa.com/en/
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Monday 9 September 2013
Bogota
Should I be afraid?
Here's my deal. Pay my rate, fly me in the front of the plane, and I'll pretty much go anywhere. Because life is short and I want to experience it all. Sure, you can sit at home and go anywhere and everywhere on the Net, but it's not like being there. Travel makes you feel so alive, so invigorated.
It's the little things.
So I'm in the airport in El Salvador. And they have twist knobs in the sinks. Those disappeared long ago in America, with the side vent windows in automobiles. Not that El Salvador is backward, anything but. But it's different.
That's where I stopped first. It was so green! That's what everybody always says about New England. I shrugged my shoulders. But having lived in L.A. for so long when it's lush you notice. And the volcano... We've got nothing like this in the U.S. Completely flat land and then a sno-cone of a peak jutting up thousands of feet in the air.
That was my connection. I originally planned to go through Miami. On American. That's my airline of choice, that's where I've got my points and my status.
But... The times were wrong. I had to leave at 5:55 AM. Which for me means I've got to stay up all night. And I was willing to leave at 8, but I'd only have fifty minutes to make my connection. Which you don't want to miss, there aren't that many flights.
Or I could leave at 9 and connect on Avianca an hour and a half later. But would that actually be worse? Changing airlines? And it cost $800 more.
Oh, what do you think it costs to fly business class to Bogota?
NINE HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT DOLLARS!
I'm checking Orbitz again and again, there must be a mistake.
But then Camilo in Bogota suggests TACA, it leaves when I want it to.
Come on, I'm not flying on TACA airlines! Didn't that Korean jet just crash in San Francisco? Isn't El Salvador's airport the one Gladwell mentioned in his book, where the foreign pilots kept crashing?
But by going through El Salvador, I saved 2-3 hours.
That I'm in for.
So I left yesterday and the plane was brand new and there were only three rows in business class and I can't say there was a ton of legroom. And it was a tiny jet from El Salvador to Bogota. But I made it, on time! Except it appeared my bag hadn't arrived. Turns out someone took it off the baggage carousel. But a woman in the airport helped me. Not the man with the dog sniffing for drugs.
Or was it explosives?
Saw that this afternoon. The cop with the dog in a jacket that said "explosivas," or something like that.
And I had to scan my bags on the way OUT of the airport, that's never happened to me before...
Oh, and in case you're wondering, business class via TACA, the national airline of San Salvador, recently sold to Avianca, was $1385. Your money goes a long way down here. But will you come back?
I'm not a paranoid kind of guy. I spent time in New York in the sixties and seventies. There are places you don't go, you watch your wallet and your p's and q's.
But if you research going to Bogota online you won't. I'd already committed, I was just looking up hotels. And I was horrified.
Then people started to e-mail me. To be afraid, very afraid.
And then I got scared.
Oh, the hotel is wonderful, the Charleston. They say it's located near the Melrose of Bogota.
But looking outside...
Funny thing, Bogota doesn't look like Russia, but it doesn't look wholly first class either. Oh, the old buildings are precious. And there are some high quality steel and glass ones. But in the middle, there's this low level sketchiness and the sidewalks are rarely flat and you know you're not in Los Angeles but you're not quite sure where you are.
I was stunned that it got light at 6 AM.
But it turns out it gets dark at 6 PM.
Bogota is two degrees from the equator.
And it's at 8,650 feet. Thank god I acclimated in Colorado two weeks before I came.
And I'd like to tell you exactly why it's here, but we Americans know nothing about countries outside our borders. We're just sold the notion that we're the best and that's it. And we may vacation in Mexico, at least before the drug war, but really we look first to Europe, not South America.
And there are huge mountains here. Not that I could see many today, the clouds obscured them. You know, the black ones, that portend rain.
So first thing I did an interview with "El Tiempo," the big newspaper. And what's funny is the issues are the same wherever you go, radio payola and getting noticed and paid. And I never realize how much I care about these topics until you get me talking about them. Because they're a microcosm of life. What path do I take? How do I navigate the twists and turns?
Speaking of which, I spent all afternoon with Andrew Loog Oldham, of Rolling Stones fame. We went to a restaurant with a glass ceiling and ate soft cheese and this spinach souffle/tart that was absolutely scrumptious as he regaled me with tales of both yesteryear and today.
You see to make it in the music business back then, you needed pluck. It wasn't about education, it was about keeping your eyes open and seizing opportunities. Yes, music business people are hustlers. As are the techies. That's what Steve Jobs was, an incredible hustler...and hypester too. And what Apple made has sometimes been art, but true art is different, at least music is. It's collaborative, it touches souls and money never comes first, because it gets in the way of making it.
So I'd like to tell you I've got a feel for Bogota. But I haven't quite nailed it yet. Fernan Martinez, who flew me down here, to speak at a conference, who used to manage Juanes and worked with Julio Iglesias and is also a concert promoter, is gonna come by for a drink soon.
And I want to go to the police museum. You won't find it on the first page of TripAdvisor. Andrew hadn't even heard of it. But it was number one on the Lonely Planet. With all the drug war stuff, they said it was fantastic.
And I want to hit the tourist haunts, the museums and the government buildings, and normally I'd just walk or take a taxi...but that's one thing they tell you to never do, hail a taxi from the street. Andrew says I want a car with me at all times, that it's only fifty dollars a day.
Fifty isn't much to save your life. But is that enough, to get a driver, if I'm out there alone?
Everybody in Bogota says it's totally safe.
And then one block from the hotel a guy accosted us and wouldn't let go. Andrew kept blowing him off, he turned to me and asked me if I was an American...
I'm wearing a baseball cap that says "Mammoth Mountain California." My skin is pink in a land of brown. Am I a target?
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Here's my deal. Pay my rate, fly me in the front of the plane, and I'll pretty much go anywhere. Because life is short and I want to experience it all. Sure, you can sit at home and go anywhere and everywhere on the Net, but it's not like being there. Travel makes you feel so alive, so invigorated.
It's the little things.
So I'm in the airport in El Salvador. And they have twist knobs in the sinks. Those disappeared long ago in America, with the side vent windows in automobiles. Not that El Salvador is backward, anything but. But it's different.
That's where I stopped first. It was so green! That's what everybody always says about New England. I shrugged my shoulders. But having lived in L.A. for so long when it's lush you notice. And the volcano... We've got nothing like this in the U.S. Completely flat land and then a sno-cone of a peak jutting up thousands of feet in the air.
That was my connection. I originally planned to go through Miami. On American. That's my airline of choice, that's where I've got my points and my status.
But... The times were wrong. I had to leave at 5:55 AM. Which for me means I've got to stay up all night. And I was willing to leave at 8, but I'd only have fifty minutes to make my connection. Which you don't want to miss, there aren't that many flights.
Or I could leave at 9 and connect on Avianca an hour and a half later. But would that actually be worse? Changing airlines? And it cost $800 more.
Oh, what do you think it costs to fly business class to Bogota?
NINE HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT DOLLARS!
I'm checking Orbitz again and again, there must be a mistake.
But then Camilo in Bogota suggests TACA, it leaves when I want it to.
Come on, I'm not flying on TACA airlines! Didn't that Korean jet just crash in San Francisco? Isn't El Salvador's airport the one Gladwell mentioned in his book, where the foreign pilots kept crashing?
But by going through El Salvador, I saved 2-3 hours.
That I'm in for.
So I left yesterday and the plane was brand new and there were only three rows in business class and I can't say there was a ton of legroom. And it was a tiny jet from El Salvador to Bogota. But I made it, on time! Except it appeared my bag hadn't arrived. Turns out someone took it off the baggage carousel. But a woman in the airport helped me. Not the man with the dog sniffing for drugs.
Or was it explosives?
Saw that this afternoon. The cop with the dog in a jacket that said "explosivas," or something like that.
And I had to scan my bags on the way OUT of the airport, that's never happened to me before...
Oh, and in case you're wondering, business class via TACA, the national airline of San Salvador, recently sold to Avianca, was $1385. Your money goes a long way down here. But will you come back?
I'm not a paranoid kind of guy. I spent time in New York in the sixties and seventies. There are places you don't go, you watch your wallet and your p's and q's.
But if you research going to Bogota online you won't. I'd already committed, I was just looking up hotels. And I was horrified.
Then people started to e-mail me. To be afraid, very afraid.
And then I got scared.
Oh, the hotel is wonderful, the Charleston. They say it's located near the Melrose of Bogota.
But looking outside...
Funny thing, Bogota doesn't look like Russia, but it doesn't look wholly first class either. Oh, the old buildings are precious. And there are some high quality steel and glass ones. But in the middle, there's this low level sketchiness and the sidewalks are rarely flat and you know you're not in Los Angeles but you're not quite sure where you are.
I was stunned that it got light at 6 AM.
But it turns out it gets dark at 6 PM.
Bogota is two degrees from the equator.
And it's at 8,650 feet. Thank god I acclimated in Colorado two weeks before I came.
And I'd like to tell you exactly why it's here, but we Americans know nothing about countries outside our borders. We're just sold the notion that we're the best and that's it. And we may vacation in Mexico, at least before the drug war, but really we look first to Europe, not South America.
And there are huge mountains here. Not that I could see many today, the clouds obscured them. You know, the black ones, that portend rain.
So first thing I did an interview with "El Tiempo," the big newspaper. And what's funny is the issues are the same wherever you go, radio payola and getting noticed and paid. And I never realize how much I care about these topics until you get me talking about them. Because they're a microcosm of life. What path do I take? How do I navigate the twists and turns?
Speaking of which, I spent all afternoon with Andrew Loog Oldham, of Rolling Stones fame. We went to a restaurant with a glass ceiling and ate soft cheese and this spinach souffle/tart that was absolutely scrumptious as he regaled me with tales of both yesteryear and today.
You see to make it in the music business back then, you needed pluck. It wasn't about education, it was about keeping your eyes open and seizing opportunities. Yes, music business people are hustlers. As are the techies. That's what Steve Jobs was, an incredible hustler...and hypester too. And what Apple made has sometimes been art, but true art is different, at least music is. It's collaborative, it touches souls and money never comes first, because it gets in the way of making it.
So I'd like to tell you I've got a feel for Bogota. But I haven't quite nailed it yet. Fernan Martinez, who flew me down here, to speak at a conference, who used to manage Juanes and worked with Julio Iglesias and is also a concert promoter, is gonna come by for a drink soon.
And I want to go to the police museum. You won't find it on the first page of TripAdvisor. Andrew hadn't even heard of it. But it was number one on the Lonely Planet. With all the drug war stuff, they said it was fantastic.
And I want to hit the tourist haunts, the museums and the government buildings, and normally I'd just walk or take a taxi...but that's one thing they tell you to never do, hail a taxi from the street. Andrew says I want a car with me at all times, that it's only fifty dollars a day.
Fifty isn't much to save your life. But is that enough, to get a driver, if I'm out there alone?
Everybody in Bogota says it's totally safe.
And then one block from the hotel a guy accosted us and wouldn't let go. Andrew kept blowing him off, he turned to me and asked me if I was an American...
I'm wearing a baseball cap that says "Mammoth Mountain California." My skin is pink in a land of brown. Am I a target?
--
Visit the archive: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/
--
http://www.twitter.com/lefsetz
--
If you would like to subscribe to the LefsetzLetter,
http://www.lefsetz.com/lists/?p=subscribe&id=1
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