Could anyone have been plastered over the mainstream press more than Sheryl Crow? She even made the cover of "Parade," talking about her home life.
But nobody wants to listen to her new album, on Spotify not a single cut has exceeded one million plays, which means if she's counting on streaming revenue to pay her bills...she might be able to buy a hamburger.
Meanwhile, someone e-mailed me about this track by this act Russ, "Losin' Control," an act you've probably never heard of, and it's got 63,982,611 streams, another cut, "What They Want," has 98,875,488, and the most any cut from Crow's album "Be Myself" has is the 649,847 for "Halfway There," and two more cuts have broken six digits, barely, but the rest are in five.
How about Bob Dylan's "Triplicate," his covers of classics that we had to read about endlessly. Well, on Spotify they've just got a sampler, ten tracks instead of the entire package, but not a single cut has been streamed a million times either, although all are in six digits, albeit in most cases low six digits.
What is going on here?
People are ignoring the hype, if they even see it at all. They know that's what it is.
And old fans are just not that interested in new material by people who've burned them so much in the past. For all the people trumpeting Dylan's later work, there are zillions who are saying NO MAS, who just don't get it, as for Crow, she hit the jackpot but then she went in search of coin, jumped to pop and country and no one's quite sure what she stands for anymore, although people will still go to see both acts live to hear the hits of yore, that accompanied their upbringing.
Turns out it takes a lot to get people to click to stream, even though it may not take a train to cry. That jump from printed page, even from webpage, to Spotify, is gigantic. Forget the initial sales burst, the idiotic Top Ten you see in the newspaper based on rabid fans going out and buying CDs, the truth is most new projects by old acts disappear immediately.
Deservedly so?
I'll let you decide.
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Saturday 20 May 2017
Transmission Impossible
I found this on Deezer.
I wonder, at some point in the future, will a younger generation go back and discover the classic rockers the same way boomers and Englishmen went back and discovered the Delta bluesmen?
They were hiding in plain sight. Harvard students looked them up in the phone book and brought them up to Cambridge to play. All those legendary names, most had given up their itinerant musician ways and were working straight jobs, or were retired, eking out a living on Social Security. But the recordings, they were percolating, being played in dorm rooms and flats, and they were the basis of rock and roll.
Rock and roll is in a death spiral. Primarily as a result of abuse, after a splintering amongst its acolytes, who couldn't agree whether it was attitude or skill, whether it was better to be a punk or a prog rocker, although we know how that worked out, since all the punks got into the R&RHOF before the proggers, because a coterie of writers and insiders are more interested in perceived credibility than music, but it's the music that survives, or does it?
"Find The Cost Of Freedom" was the b-side of "Ohio," but this was back when people had given up on 45s and were buying LPs, and the only version most people owned was the live one on "Four Way Street," at least until the greatest hits package "So Far" was released in '74, but by that time the bloom was off the rose, Nixon had resigned eleven days before, Ford was President and boomers were licking their wounds and going back to the land. CSN would re-emerge in '77, Neil Young would continue to be a fixture, but their sound was superseded by tracks crafted to fit Lee Abrams' SuperStars format on FM.
Not that you never heard "Love The One You're With," it's just that that's all you heard, all the rest of Stephen Stills' oeuvre receded into the bedroom, you played the records at home or in your head, but they ceased being in the air, everywhere.
"When I get restless, what can I do
When I need someone, I think about you"
That's from "Sit Yourself Down," the second side opener of Stills' solo debut. It was not the hit, but it's my favorite cut on the LP, because of the changes, from verse to chorus, with the background vocals in a waterfall, it's a production tour-de-force built upon a great song. They don't build them this way anymore, because it costs too much money for so very little in return. Spend a couple of hundred thousand dollars in the studio, partying, getting it right, and you'll find you release it to a limited audience with limited revenue, best to stop recording and just go on the road, playing to the already converted, that's where the money is.
"And he cries from the misery
And he lies singin' harmony
She is gone there is no tomorrow"
That's from "Do For The Others," song two on side one, quiet after the exuberance of "Love The One You're With," it expresses the pain of a breakup, something we rarely hear in today's popular music. Sexual harassment was worse in 1970, despite nascent feminism, opportunities for women were limited, but men were more sensitive, they could reveal their vulnerabilities, their pain. That's something we've lost in the coarsening of America, no one can appear weak, no one can be a loser, it's all victory all the time, to admit you've got more questions than answers is anathema, you just put your head down and march forward, internalizing any doubt. But it didn't used to be that way.
So, after playing "Find The Cost Of Freedom," going back to Stills' debut, I decided to search online to find out if the CSNY live box from '74 had made it online.
It hadn't.
But that's when I discovered "Transmission Impossible," a forty five cut album of previously unreleased live cuts by Stephen Stills, it was like finding the Dead Sea Scrolls, unearthing this previously unheard work of a master, some recorded during his heyday, some as late as the nineties, but it's positively...
Stills.
I'll be honest, I pulled up "4+20" first, there are two iterations, one from the King Biscuit Flower Hour in Portland in '78, another from the Bread and Roses Festival in Berkeley the same year.
"Four and twenty years ago, I come into this life
The son of a woman and a man who lived in strife
He was tired of being poor
And he wasn't into selling door to door
And he worked like the devil to be more"
Twenty four is not what it used to be. Now there's a great bifurcation, either you're on the path to riches or not, you went to college or you didn't, you're a winner or a loser, but way back when it was much less clearly defined, fewer people went to university, which was not a glorified trade school, but a place to expand your mind, and it wasn't uncommon to find yourself at that age being completely lost, wondering how did you get here and where are you gonna go?
"A different kind of poverty now upsets me so
Night after sleepless night I walk the floor
And I want to know, why am I so alone
Where is my woman can I bring her home
Have I driven her away is she gone"
So different from the bitches and ho's ethos of today, wherein you abuse them and then kick them to the curb, at least that's what popular music tells us, the truth, amongst the hoi polloi? I think Stephen Stills has it right.
And "Transmission Impossible" is a cornucopia of covers and originals, there's even a rendition of "Midnight Rider," because a great song is a great song, even though this version is mostly a curio, but still, when you're going deep, when you're a fan, you want to hear everything.
And you'll want to listen to "Helplessly Hoping," live from the Palladium in New York City back in '76, an almost completely forgotten song from the CSN debut, it's another number with magical changes, hopscotching through your brain.
And from that same show is a combo of "49 Bye-Byes" and "For What It's Worth," which segues into a cover of "Everybody's Talkin'."
But the '78 shows are better, Stills is in better voice, I loved listening to "Fallen Eagle," because that Manassas debut is even better than Stills' initial solo, but it's like it doesn't exist. Which brings me to my favorite cut on "Transmission Impossible," a live version of "So Begins The Task" (mislabeled "SHE Begins The Task"), which segues into "Johnny's Garden" from that same Manassas debut, recorded at the Joint at the Hard Rock in Vegas back in '95. And the most amazing thing is like so many cuts on "Transmission Impossible" it's just Stills and his guitar, no trickery.
Live material used to be dribbled out. You'd go to a bar and they might have a King Flower Biscuit Hour on reel to reel tape, recorded off the radio, but labels parsed out their material, they didn't want to overload the audience, there was no YouTube, there was a dearth of this stuff.
And then during the heyday of file-trading, all this stuff surfaced.
And then it disappeared. Funny how legality does this.
And I've got no idea of the legality of "Transmission Impossible," it's not on Spotify in the U.S., but you can buy the album on Amazon, both in the U.S. and the U.K.
So...
Now I wanted to go deeper. I found that Stills is still recording, with Barry Goldberg and Kenny Wayne Shepherd as the Rides, I saw they played at that theatre in Northridge a year or two ago, but people today care about combos of superstar rappers, not classic rockers.
And after the splintering of CSNY over David Crosby's ill-considered words about Neil Young's personal life, Stills is touring this summer with Judy Collins. And the truth is although Stephen's picking is intact, is voice is not, but he's still out there, available, like the rough-vocaled Delta bluesmen of yore.
If you're a boomer, you know. You've probably seen him, with or without his compatriots, but if you're under thirty, certainly under twenty, you're probably clueless.
And maybe it skips a generation, maybe it's a decade or two out, when word starts to spread and people go deep into the talent of someone who shined so brightly back then whose star has dimmed considerably.
Or maybe not.
"Transmission Impossible" (UK version with track-listing)": https://www.amazon.co.uk/Transmission-Impossible-3CD-BOX-SET/dp/B01N36XZIT?utm_source=phplist5853&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Transmission+Impossible
"Transmission Impossible" (US Version): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N36XZIT?utm_source=phplist5853&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Transmission+Impossible
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I wonder, at some point in the future, will a younger generation go back and discover the classic rockers the same way boomers and Englishmen went back and discovered the Delta bluesmen?
They were hiding in plain sight. Harvard students looked them up in the phone book and brought them up to Cambridge to play. All those legendary names, most had given up their itinerant musician ways and were working straight jobs, or were retired, eking out a living on Social Security. But the recordings, they were percolating, being played in dorm rooms and flats, and they were the basis of rock and roll.
Rock and roll is in a death spiral. Primarily as a result of abuse, after a splintering amongst its acolytes, who couldn't agree whether it was attitude or skill, whether it was better to be a punk or a prog rocker, although we know how that worked out, since all the punks got into the R&RHOF before the proggers, because a coterie of writers and insiders are more interested in perceived credibility than music, but it's the music that survives, or does it?
"Find The Cost Of Freedom" was the b-side of "Ohio," but this was back when people had given up on 45s and were buying LPs, and the only version most people owned was the live one on "Four Way Street," at least until the greatest hits package "So Far" was released in '74, but by that time the bloom was off the rose, Nixon had resigned eleven days before, Ford was President and boomers were licking their wounds and going back to the land. CSN would re-emerge in '77, Neil Young would continue to be a fixture, but their sound was superseded by tracks crafted to fit Lee Abrams' SuperStars format on FM.
Not that you never heard "Love The One You're With," it's just that that's all you heard, all the rest of Stephen Stills' oeuvre receded into the bedroom, you played the records at home or in your head, but they ceased being in the air, everywhere.
"When I get restless, what can I do
When I need someone, I think about you"
That's from "Sit Yourself Down," the second side opener of Stills' solo debut. It was not the hit, but it's my favorite cut on the LP, because of the changes, from verse to chorus, with the background vocals in a waterfall, it's a production tour-de-force built upon a great song. They don't build them this way anymore, because it costs too much money for so very little in return. Spend a couple of hundred thousand dollars in the studio, partying, getting it right, and you'll find you release it to a limited audience with limited revenue, best to stop recording and just go on the road, playing to the already converted, that's where the money is.
"And he cries from the misery
And he lies singin' harmony
She is gone there is no tomorrow"
That's from "Do For The Others," song two on side one, quiet after the exuberance of "Love The One You're With," it expresses the pain of a breakup, something we rarely hear in today's popular music. Sexual harassment was worse in 1970, despite nascent feminism, opportunities for women were limited, but men were more sensitive, they could reveal their vulnerabilities, their pain. That's something we've lost in the coarsening of America, no one can appear weak, no one can be a loser, it's all victory all the time, to admit you've got more questions than answers is anathema, you just put your head down and march forward, internalizing any doubt. But it didn't used to be that way.
So, after playing "Find The Cost Of Freedom," going back to Stills' debut, I decided to search online to find out if the CSNY live box from '74 had made it online.
It hadn't.
But that's when I discovered "Transmission Impossible," a forty five cut album of previously unreleased live cuts by Stephen Stills, it was like finding the Dead Sea Scrolls, unearthing this previously unheard work of a master, some recorded during his heyday, some as late as the nineties, but it's positively...
Stills.
I'll be honest, I pulled up "4+20" first, there are two iterations, one from the King Biscuit Flower Hour in Portland in '78, another from the Bread and Roses Festival in Berkeley the same year.
"Four and twenty years ago, I come into this life
The son of a woman and a man who lived in strife
He was tired of being poor
And he wasn't into selling door to door
And he worked like the devil to be more"
Twenty four is not what it used to be. Now there's a great bifurcation, either you're on the path to riches or not, you went to college or you didn't, you're a winner or a loser, but way back when it was much less clearly defined, fewer people went to university, which was not a glorified trade school, but a place to expand your mind, and it wasn't uncommon to find yourself at that age being completely lost, wondering how did you get here and where are you gonna go?
"A different kind of poverty now upsets me so
Night after sleepless night I walk the floor
And I want to know, why am I so alone
Where is my woman can I bring her home
Have I driven her away is she gone"
So different from the bitches and ho's ethos of today, wherein you abuse them and then kick them to the curb, at least that's what popular music tells us, the truth, amongst the hoi polloi? I think Stephen Stills has it right.
And "Transmission Impossible" is a cornucopia of covers and originals, there's even a rendition of "Midnight Rider," because a great song is a great song, even though this version is mostly a curio, but still, when you're going deep, when you're a fan, you want to hear everything.
And you'll want to listen to "Helplessly Hoping," live from the Palladium in New York City back in '76, an almost completely forgotten song from the CSN debut, it's another number with magical changes, hopscotching through your brain.
And from that same show is a combo of "49 Bye-Byes" and "For What It's Worth," which segues into a cover of "Everybody's Talkin'."
But the '78 shows are better, Stills is in better voice, I loved listening to "Fallen Eagle," because that Manassas debut is even better than Stills' initial solo, but it's like it doesn't exist. Which brings me to my favorite cut on "Transmission Impossible," a live version of "So Begins The Task" (mislabeled "SHE Begins The Task"), which segues into "Johnny's Garden" from that same Manassas debut, recorded at the Joint at the Hard Rock in Vegas back in '95. And the most amazing thing is like so many cuts on "Transmission Impossible" it's just Stills and his guitar, no trickery.
Live material used to be dribbled out. You'd go to a bar and they might have a King Flower Biscuit Hour on reel to reel tape, recorded off the radio, but labels parsed out their material, they didn't want to overload the audience, there was no YouTube, there was a dearth of this stuff.
And then during the heyday of file-trading, all this stuff surfaced.
And then it disappeared. Funny how legality does this.
And I've got no idea of the legality of "Transmission Impossible," it's not on Spotify in the U.S., but you can buy the album on Amazon, both in the U.S. and the U.K.
So...
Now I wanted to go deeper. I found that Stills is still recording, with Barry Goldberg and Kenny Wayne Shepherd as the Rides, I saw they played at that theatre in Northridge a year or two ago, but people today care about combos of superstar rappers, not classic rockers.
And after the splintering of CSNY over David Crosby's ill-considered words about Neil Young's personal life, Stills is touring this summer with Judy Collins. And the truth is although Stephen's picking is intact, is voice is not, but he's still out there, available, like the rough-vocaled Delta bluesmen of yore.
If you're a boomer, you know. You've probably seen him, with or without his compatriots, but if you're under thirty, certainly under twenty, you're probably clueless.
And maybe it skips a generation, maybe it's a decade or two out, when word starts to spread and people go deep into the talent of someone who shined so brightly back then whose star has dimmed considerably.
Or maybe not.
"Transmission Impossible" (UK version with track-listing)": https://www.amazon.co.uk/Transmission-Impossible-3CD-BOX-SET/dp/B01N36XZIT?utm_source=phplist5853&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Transmission+Impossible
"Transmission Impossible" (US Version): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01N36XZIT?utm_source=phplist5853&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Transmission+Impossible
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Friday 19 May 2017
Credibility
I blame Bill Clinton.
Oh, all you lefties don't have to get your knickers in a twist, I know, I know the Republicans were after him but he did it and parsed the language and that's when the baby boomers bought this country, he was one of them, we messed it up.
It started under Reagan. When he legitimized greed and self-interest. But the boomers could have said no and they didn't.
Kinda like the rockers. No wonder disco made a dent. They might have blown up records at Comiskey Park but if you don't think disco won, you haven't listened to the radio, or checked the Spotify Top 50.
We went from the Allman Brothers wearing their street clothes to spandex jumpsuits and Lee Abrams codified FM playlists and there was a ton of money in it but no soul.
And then came MTV. Remember when Martha Quinn was America's sweetheart? On the tube more than the acts she presented? Well now she's a footnote, ground down under the relentless need of the media machine to titillate us with something new, which proves if you're doing it to become rich and famous you're on the wrong path. I hear from Martha now and again, she's very nice, this is not karma, this is reality.
And the reality is there was much more money in overproduced pop videos than the work of classic rockers. Duran Duran had some substance under those expensive clips but by the end of the eighties, it was all formula, the nineties were worse, and then the internet came along to blow it all up.
It was the great hope. Never mind net neutrality, remember back in '96, when it was a thrill just to connect with people online? Now it's all been commercialized. By the ISPs, the Frightful Five, Amazon, Google, Apple, Facebook and Microsoft, and the surfers themselves. First they put Google ads on their blogs and then they made YouTube clips for the commercials and now they're influencers on Instagram, pretty soulless, don't you think?
And you can't find a single person who won't sell out, no one with cred who will say no. The handlers know they'll outlast the acts and they want their commission and the players want some of that private jet lifestyle, and that costs, most acts can't afford it, but they want it, now that you can't indulge in hookers and dope, backstage blow jobs, since everybody's got a camera in their phone.
So that's the world we're living in. John Lennon imploring us to give him some truth?
THERE IS NONE!
That's right, Roger Ailes muddied the waters, used a news channel for advocacy, and Chris Cornell is doing the endless grind on the road because he's got to make a buck, he's got bills, and NBC makes Donald Trump a superstar, that's right the self-promoting blowhard is blown up and is this any different from what the musicians are trying to do? Trying to get someone national to feature them, make them a household name?
Now it used to be when the other team was in power, you squirmed and squealed, hated how they parsed the language, but no one can believe a word Donald Trump says, he's got no credibility, it's like listening to Kim Jong-un or Vladimir Putin, it's just self-serving hogwash.
And that's frustrating, because you and me, the fabric of this country, we didn't get a chance to make hay, they sold us opportunities that don't exist, it's a giant Ponzi scheme, and the brilliant media has us fighting against ourselves when we've got more in common than different, but...
I'm not gonna get into name-calling. Not gonna say how the right made "government" a dirty word and neutered the "New York Times."
I'm just gonna say life is about character. And character begets relationships, friends. And you can't go through this game alone, no way, it's a web of personalities. You know that, despite the shitshow you see in the news every day. If you lied and cheated all day you'd be an outcast.
But as soon as you get a chance, a leg up, those you meet say no, you've got to play like the big boys do, you've got to become a lying, cheating, scumbag.
We need a reset. Just like the Republicans founded the Federalist Society decades back to put right wing judges on the bench, we need credibility, honesty and the American Way to re-infiltrate our society.
And you know where it starts?
With artists. Because they are role models, no matter what they say.
The artists have to realize there's enough money if they've got fans. And believe me, fans want to believe in you. Ask all those aged acts plying the boards. You know why the Eagles can still sell so many damn tickets? Because they never sold out. Of course they made great music, but there was never a movie, an endorsement deal, and Don Henley might rub you the wrong way, but the best artists always do, ever interact with Van Morrison? They've got to do it their way, the right way, or the whole thing doesn't work. They don't believe in compromise. They're beacons, for you, telling you too can believe in yourself and make it.
And that's the way it was from the Beatles to corporate rock.
But then, the whole world went topsy-turvy, cash ruled, and you had to get you some.
I've been on the private plane, it's nice. But when I fly commercial in the back I don't want to fly out of Van Nuys anymore, I just want to hate on the airlines, who've ground us into dust, by playing to our mercenary ways.
And United messed up, and there was blowback, but you've got no choice, you've got to fly them if you live in so many hamlets, cities and burgs.
And I don't want to get off point, I just want to say the game is rigged, most definitely, but we can untie the knot.
We just need people to believe in.
P.S. Remember that guy Ian MacKaye, and his band Fugazi? Every one of the major labels was up his ass to make a deal, they wanted the billing, the imprimatur, the glow, but he said no. He had to do it his way, with his own label, stickering LPs so retailers wouldn't overcharge for them. His only flaw was he was operating in the pre-internet era. Ian MacKaye and Fugazi today? GODHEAD! That's the paradigm, not to wake up at the crack of dawn to play the "Today Show," but to release the music you want to make and tour to support it, building a fan base with direct access online. That's the world we're living in now, every act is a cottage industry, other than the two-dimensional nitwits conceived, executed and propped-up by the machine. Where are those popsters years down the line? They're only as big as their last hit, which they lack, where acts like Fugazi, they're FOREVER!
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Oh, all you lefties don't have to get your knickers in a twist, I know, I know the Republicans were after him but he did it and parsed the language and that's when the baby boomers bought this country, he was one of them, we messed it up.
It started under Reagan. When he legitimized greed and self-interest. But the boomers could have said no and they didn't.
Kinda like the rockers. No wonder disco made a dent. They might have blown up records at Comiskey Park but if you don't think disco won, you haven't listened to the radio, or checked the Spotify Top 50.
We went from the Allman Brothers wearing their street clothes to spandex jumpsuits and Lee Abrams codified FM playlists and there was a ton of money in it but no soul.
And then came MTV. Remember when Martha Quinn was America's sweetheart? On the tube more than the acts she presented? Well now she's a footnote, ground down under the relentless need of the media machine to titillate us with something new, which proves if you're doing it to become rich and famous you're on the wrong path. I hear from Martha now and again, she's very nice, this is not karma, this is reality.
And the reality is there was much more money in overproduced pop videos than the work of classic rockers. Duran Duran had some substance under those expensive clips but by the end of the eighties, it was all formula, the nineties were worse, and then the internet came along to blow it all up.
It was the great hope. Never mind net neutrality, remember back in '96, when it was a thrill just to connect with people online? Now it's all been commercialized. By the ISPs, the Frightful Five, Amazon, Google, Apple, Facebook and Microsoft, and the surfers themselves. First they put Google ads on their blogs and then they made YouTube clips for the commercials and now they're influencers on Instagram, pretty soulless, don't you think?
And you can't find a single person who won't sell out, no one with cred who will say no. The handlers know they'll outlast the acts and they want their commission and the players want some of that private jet lifestyle, and that costs, most acts can't afford it, but they want it, now that you can't indulge in hookers and dope, backstage blow jobs, since everybody's got a camera in their phone.
So that's the world we're living in. John Lennon imploring us to give him some truth?
THERE IS NONE!
That's right, Roger Ailes muddied the waters, used a news channel for advocacy, and Chris Cornell is doing the endless grind on the road because he's got to make a buck, he's got bills, and NBC makes Donald Trump a superstar, that's right the self-promoting blowhard is blown up and is this any different from what the musicians are trying to do? Trying to get someone national to feature them, make them a household name?
Now it used to be when the other team was in power, you squirmed and squealed, hated how they parsed the language, but no one can believe a word Donald Trump says, he's got no credibility, it's like listening to Kim Jong-un or Vladimir Putin, it's just self-serving hogwash.
And that's frustrating, because you and me, the fabric of this country, we didn't get a chance to make hay, they sold us opportunities that don't exist, it's a giant Ponzi scheme, and the brilliant media has us fighting against ourselves when we've got more in common than different, but...
I'm not gonna get into name-calling. Not gonna say how the right made "government" a dirty word and neutered the "New York Times."
I'm just gonna say life is about character. And character begets relationships, friends. And you can't go through this game alone, no way, it's a web of personalities. You know that, despite the shitshow you see in the news every day. If you lied and cheated all day you'd be an outcast.
But as soon as you get a chance, a leg up, those you meet say no, you've got to play like the big boys do, you've got to become a lying, cheating, scumbag.
We need a reset. Just like the Republicans founded the Federalist Society decades back to put right wing judges on the bench, we need credibility, honesty and the American Way to re-infiltrate our society.
And you know where it starts?
With artists. Because they are role models, no matter what they say.
The artists have to realize there's enough money if they've got fans. And believe me, fans want to believe in you. Ask all those aged acts plying the boards. You know why the Eagles can still sell so many damn tickets? Because they never sold out. Of course they made great music, but there was never a movie, an endorsement deal, and Don Henley might rub you the wrong way, but the best artists always do, ever interact with Van Morrison? They've got to do it their way, the right way, or the whole thing doesn't work. They don't believe in compromise. They're beacons, for you, telling you too can believe in yourself and make it.
And that's the way it was from the Beatles to corporate rock.
But then, the whole world went topsy-turvy, cash ruled, and you had to get you some.
I've been on the private plane, it's nice. But when I fly commercial in the back I don't want to fly out of Van Nuys anymore, I just want to hate on the airlines, who've ground us into dust, by playing to our mercenary ways.
And United messed up, and there was blowback, but you've got no choice, you've got to fly them if you live in so many hamlets, cities and burgs.
And I don't want to get off point, I just want to say the game is rigged, most definitely, but we can untie the knot.
We just need people to believe in.
P.S. Remember that guy Ian MacKaye, and his band Fugazi? Every one of the major labels was up his ass to make a deal, they wanted the billing, the imprimatur, the glow, but he said no. He had to do it his way, with his own label, stickering LPs so retailers wouldn't overcharge for them. His only flaw was he was operating in the pre-internet era. Ian MacKaye and Fugazi today? GODHEAD! That's the paradigm, not to wake up at the crack of dawn to play the "Today Show," but to release the music you want to make and tour to support it, building a fan base with direct access online. That's the world we're living in now, every act is a cottage industry, other than the two-dimensional nitwits conceived, executed and propped-up by the machine. Where are those popsters years down the line? They're only as big as their last hit, which they lack, where acts like Fugazi, they're FOREVER!
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Thursday 18 May 2017
The Injection
1
I can't SLEEP!
So here's the story. I was skiing with a friend on my birthday, April 22nd, Pickeroon, at Vail. And it's relatively flat and then it falls off into a steep part, and normally I'd stop and wait at this ridge, at this transition, but the guy I'm skiing with is twenty years younger than me and you know how the testosterone flows and I'm in the lead so I just continue and when I make my first turn on the steep part, I feel this pain shoot through my back. Let me be clear, I didn't fall, there were no big bumps, no jolting or jarring, it's just that I turned my skis and got this pain.
Whereupon I made two more runs and went back in. I had to, you couldn't go down from there, it was too damn sticky.
O.K. We go out to Flame, my favorite restaurant in Vail, for dinner, and it's about a ten minute walk and I'm uncomfortable, but not writhing, and when we get back to the condo I'm all riled up, agitated, and I inject that because of the Sarno book, but I'll get to that.
I want to finish this book I'm reading, "Shotgun Lovesongs," which I kind of recommend, because it's about a faded rock star and it's pretty good, but if I stay up too late I won't be able to get up early and you've got to get up early, because the snow gets too sticky sometime after noon and it's the last day of the season and they close early anyway.
But I toss and turn, there's too much on my mind.
And I wake up late and I'm in a rush, because we've got to meet Fricke at 11 at 11, which is Vail talk I won't bother to explain, other than it's the top of the mountain and it takes half an hour just to get there, so I'm in a rush and I'm stretching, and using a tennis ball to work out the kinks and my back goes NUCLEAR!
I'm familiar with nuclear, but it hasn't happened in twenty years. And they say after ten you're usually in the clear.
And I'm stretching and starting to writhe and then I get on the floor and conclude I'm not going skiing today, I text Fricke, and I start reading the Sarno book, which is on my KIndle, to try to calm myself down.
Sarno says it's all in your head. I felt stressed, I wanted to believe that.
But when I couldn't get comfortable, I had Felice go through my personal pharmacy and I took 10 milligrams of Oxycodone, which I had left over from my shoulder surgery.
But it didn't work.
And Felice thinks we should call the doctor and I agree and when we're on the phone with him, trying to find a pharmacy open on a Sunday to call in a steroid dosepak, my pain goes INSANE!
Now you have to know, this pill I take, the miracle drug, Gleevec, for my CML, its two main side effects are...fatigue and muscle cramps. And the fatigue, it only means I'm gonna have trouble climbing Mt. Everest, I'm good in regular life, but the cramps, it's like out of a horror movie, your fingers seem to be rolling over each other at the joint, the arch in your foot has stabbing pain, and this doesn't happen often, but when it does...
Well now my whole body is in a Gleevec cramp. Was it a drug reaction? Who the hell knows, all I do know is I wanted the pain to go away.
So let's jump to the ER.
They do an MRI. I've got two herniated disks and a collapsed disk. The collapsed disk I'm familiar with, as the physiatrist said a couple of years back, when I got an MRI for my hip, YOU SKI WITH THAT BACK? There's no disk THERE!
Yes.
Ok, ok, so they need a stool sample.
And after eating a few crackers I give 'em one.
They're looking for colitis, which they do not find. But they do find the NOROVIRUS!
And this is where I catalog my other problems. So, it's the end of the season and snow is thin and two thirds of the mountain is closed so they groom Prima, the hardest slope on the front side. And you cut off from there to Pronto and I get to the bottom and I'm so tired, I mean really tired, WTF?
I can barely eat the energy bar in my pocket. I call it a day and go back to the condo and tell Felice how insanely tired I am, I can barely eat dinner, even though I ate no lunch.
That was Thursday.
Turns out, as stated above, I had Norovirus, which is that infection you get on cruise ships. There's no treatment, you've just got to wait it out.
And since I'm doing one-stop shopping, I ask the doctor about my ear, I can't hear out of it, my right one. Was freaking me out. Turns out he could not see the eardrum, they did a half hour of cleaning and voila! I could hear again!
So...
They decided not to keep me overnight. They cleared me to fly home the next day. And I didn't think I could make it but then in a window when the drugs kicked in we put it in high gear, bought a $90 flight, took an SUV to DIA and when I got out of the car...
I couldn't stand up straight. I could walk maybe twenty five feet at a time. If I straightened up...WHEW!
So I get home and I'm worse. But I'm gonna power through.
I drive a standard and it's my left leg so I'm Ubering and I've got to go to the skin doctor, to have my stitch removed, it's been two weeks, he did a biopsy, and I can't walk to the goddamn building, they have to bring out a wheelchair.
Thereupon I called my internist for serious pain pills and canceled everything on my schedule.
The physical therapist came to my house. And when she said I needed to see the surgeon...
So I call the guru, the guy who I depend upon, who got me to avoid surgery after every doctor said to have it two decades back.
I can't get through.
Then I get an e-mail from Irving and while we're at it, I run this all by him. He says I can't see the famous guy, he's the one who messed up Steve Kerr, I've got to see this new guy, who operated on his son-in-law, he'll facilitate it.
And he does, but the price is exorbitant but Irving is never wrong and I'm barely functional so I go.
The guy gives me so much time, an hour, and explains everything, but wants more tests, to see if there are bone fractures.
So I Uber to the lab and he squeezes me in five days later and says...
I DON'T NEED SURGERY!
Ever hear of such a thing? Oh, I'll need it at some point, I've got that collapsed disk and the vertebrae above it has slipped, but the herniations should work themselves out in six to eight weeks, and I'm elated.
But still in pain.
You see, most people have a problem with conventional sciatica, from the butt down the side of the leg to the foot. But since my herniations are higher up, my pain is in the thigh and the knee. So I'm good when I'm sitting, but sleeping?
No way.
Whereupon...
I've taken more medication than I have in my life and the pain is still intolerable and then I decided...
I'd go for the injection.
2
I know, I know, this story is long and insane but welcome to my life, that's why I thought this could be psychological, even though I'm the only one who believes that, it's been a helluva year, but not in a good way.
And I've seen the dawn too many times, trying to white knuckle it without Oxy, since my pharmacist freaked out about it being so addictive.
And I can go without pain pills during the day, but...AM I ENTITLED TO TREATMENT?
I mean I'm getting better, however slowly. But they called me from the pain doctor's office and said I could cancel any time and I was wavering but the night before last...WHEW!
So...
They were so UNTOGETHER!
I spoke with three different people and they all said different stuff.
And I'm reading the pre-op page last night and holy crap, I'm doing stuff I'm not supposed to, although the page contradicts the phone calls, and I'm an i-dotter and a t-crosser, I've got to do it right, but if this injection is canceled I've got to wait A WHOLE 'NOTHER WEEK!
So I Uber to Beverly Hills...
Now this is a surgery center. Where you die. So, do I want to be put under or not? The first phone call gave me the option, all the next ones assumed I was going down.
But I walk in and the guy there is asking the same question!
But his wife won't shut up and she's so loud I can't fill out the forms and the clerk says eighty percent of the people go under so I decide I will too.
But then when I go into the facility, the nurse says I won't be going under, it's not in the paperwork, HUH?
It's the untogetherness that's blowing my mind. Can't they get their story straight?
But then they're inserting the IV... Now I've been poked and prodded so much that I can tolerate the pain, but it's becoming clear, this ain't working.
THE WOMAN SCREWED UP TWICE! MISSED MY VEIN TWICE! ONCE IN EACH ARM!
I said NO MAS, bring in someone else! And they did, and she got it right. But when they say you never want to be in a hospital, believe them.
And we're waiting for the doctor and he comes in all harried and disheveled and I'm wondering whether I should just bolt.
But he turns out to quite a nice fellow, impresses me with his competence.
And the anesthesiologist tells me he's been on all three sides of this, putting people out, injecting them, and being injected himself.
Finally, he says he went under for the injection, so I decide I will too.
I mean how paranoid do you want to be?
And they wheel me in and we start talking music, this guy went to the final Springsteen show at the Sports Arena, and I always wonder whether to be all business or friends, since I had a bad experience once, bonding with a doctor who poked a hole in my spine...
And I'm lying face down and they put in the twilight medicine and they prick me in the back and it's all done in about ten minutes. I'm never completely gone, I run a sexual fantasy in my head, I try to feel good, because there's nowhere I need to be, no commitment I need to fulfill, I've just got to go along for the ride, float down the river in heaven, assuming I don't end up in heaven.
And that's it.
They wheel me out and make me drink some water and say I'm done.
Whereupon I get into it with the anesthesiologist. He says it'll take forty eight hours for the steroid to kick in, to lay low before that, but not too low, but it could take eight days for the steroid to take effect.
And then the nurse hands me my exit papers, one I've never seen before, I've got to document my pain, for my follow-up appointment with the pain doctor...no one told me about that! Yup, in two weeks.
And then I'm literally walking out and I run into the injector.
Who says no, I don't have to come back. And that no, I don't have to wait forty eight hours for full effect. And to do whatever I want. And I could get relief that lasts an hour or forever or not at all.
So where does that leave me?
Who the hell knows.
On one hand my back pain is reduced, then again, I've got pain where they shot me up, I've got to ice that.
As far as my knee... Pain is reduced in three areas but still remaining in one. But sometimes you feel better a few hours from now. And even if this doesn't work, I'm on the road to recovery.
So what have we learned?
Damned if I know.
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I can't SLEEP!
So here's the story. I was skiing with a friend on my birthday, April 22nd, Pickeroon, at Vail. And it's relatively flat and then it falls off into a steep part, and normally I'd stop and wait at this ridge, at this transition, but the guy I'm skiing with is twenty years younger than me and you know how the testosterone flows and I'm in the lead so I just continue and when I make my first turn on the steep part, I feel this pain shoot through my back. Let me be clear, I didn't fall, there were no big bumps, no jolting or jarring, it's just that I turned my skis and got this pain.
Whereupon I made two more runs and went back in. I had to, you couldn't go down from there, it was too damn sticky.
O.K. We go out to Flame, my favorite restaurant in Vail, for dinner, and it's about a ten minute walk and I'm uncomfortable, but not writhing, and when we get back to the condo I'm all riled up, agitated, and I inject that because of the Sarno book, but I'll get to that.
I want to finish this book I'm reading, "Shotgun Lovesongs," which I kind of recommend, because it's about a faded rock star and it's pretty good, but if I stay up too late I won't be able to get up early and you've got to get up early, because the snow gets too sticky sometime after noon and it's the last day of the season and they close early anyway.
But I toss and turn, there's too much on my mind.
And I wake up late and I'm in a rush, because we've got to meet Fricke at 11 at 11, which is Vail talk I won't bother to explain, other than it's the top of the mountain and it takes half an hour just to get there, so I'm in a rush and I'm stretching, and using a tennis ball to work out the kinks and my back goes NUCLEAR!
I'm familiar with nuclear, but it hasn't happened in twenty years. And they say after ten you're usually in the clear.
And I'm stretching and starting to writhe and then I get on the floor and conclude I'm not going skiing today, I text Fricke, and I start reading the Sarno book, which is on my KIndle, to try to calm myself down.
Sarno says it's all in your head. I felt stressed, I wanted to believe that.
But when I couldn't get comfortable, I had Felice go through my personal pharmacy and I took 10 milligrams of Oxycodone, which I had left over from my shoulder surgery.
But it didn't work.
And Felice thinks we should call the doctor and I agree and when we're on the phone with him, trying to find a pharmacy open on a Sunday to call in a steroid dosepak, my pain goes INSANE!
Now you have to know, this pill I take, the miracle drug, Gleevec, for my CML, its two main side effects are...fatigue and muscle cramps. And the fatigue, it only means I'm gonna have trouble climbing Mt. Everest, I'm good in regular life, but the cramps, it's like out of a horror movie, your fingers seem to be rolling over each other at the joint, the arch in your foot has stabbing pain, and this doesn't happen often, but when it does...
Well now my whole body is in a Gleevec cramp. Was it a drug reaction? Who the hell knows, all I do know is I wanted the pain to go away.
So let's jump to the ER.
They do an MRI. I've got two herniated disks and a collapsed disk. The collapsed disk I'm familiar with, as the physiatrist said a couple of years back, when I got an MRI for my hip, YOU SKI WITH THAT BACK? There's no disk THERE!
Yes.
Ok, ok, so they need a stool sample.
And after eating a few crackers I give 'em one.
They're looking for colitis, which they do not find. But they do find the NOROVIRUS!
And this is where I catalog my other problems. So, it's the end of the season and snow is thin and two thirds of the mountain is closed so they groom Prima, the hardest slope on the front side. And you cut off from there to Pronto and I get to the bottom and I'm so tired, I mean really tired, WTF?
I can barely eat the energy bar in my pocket. I call it a day and go back to the condo and tell Felice how insanely tired I am, I can barely eat dinner, even though I ate no lunch.
That was Thursday.
Turns out, as stated above, I had Norovirus, which is that infection you get on cruise ships. There's no treatment, you've just got to wait it out.
And since I'm doing one-stop shopping, I ask the doctor about my ear, I can't hear out of it, my right one. Was freaking me out. Turns out he could not see the eardrum, they did a half hour of cleaning and voila! I could hear again!
So...
They decided not to keep me overnight. They cleared me to fly home the next day. And I didn't think I could make it but then in a window when the drugs kicked in we put it in high gear, bought a $90 flight, took an SUV to DIA and when I got out of the car...
I couldn't stand up straight. I could walk maybe twenty five feet at a time. If I straightened up...WHEW!
So I get home and I'm worse. But I'm gonna power through.
I drive a standard and it's my left leg so I'm Ubering and I've got to go to the skin doctor, to have my stitch removed, it's been two weeks, he did a biopsy, and I can't walk to the goddamn building, they have to bring out a wheelchair.
Thereupon I called my internist for serious pain pills and canceled everything on my schedule.
The physical therapist came to my house. And when she said I needed to see the surgeon...
So I call the guru, the guy who I depend upon, who got me to avoid surgery after every doctor said to have it two decades back.
I can't get through.
Then I get an e-mail from Irving and while we're at it, I run this all by him. He says I can't see the famous guy, he's the one who messed up Steve Kerr, I've got to see this new guy, who operated on his son-in-law, he'll facilitate it.
And he does, but the price is exorbitant but Irving is never wrong and I'm barely functional so I go.
The guy gives me so much time, an hour, and explains everything, but wants more tests, to see if there are bone fractures.
So I Uber to the lab and he squeezes me in five days later and says...
I DON'T NEED SURGERY!
Ever hear of such a thing? Oh, I'll need it at some point, I've got that collapsed disk and the vertebrae above it has slipped, but the herniations should work themselves out in six to eight weeks, and I'm elated.
But still in pain.
You see, most people have a problem with conventional sciatica, from the butt down the side of the leg to the foot. But since my herniations are higher up, my pain is in the thigh and the knee. So I'm good when I'm sitting, but sleeping?
No way.
Whereupon...
I've taken more medication than I have in my life and the pain is still intolerable and then I decided...
I'd go for the injection.
2
I know, I know, this story is long and insane but welcome to my life, that's why I thought this could be psychological, even though I'm the only one who believes that, it's been a helluva year, but not in a good way.
And I've seen the dawn too many times, trying to white knuckle it without Oxy, since my pharmacist freaked out about it being so addictive.
And I can go without pain pills during the day, but...AM I ENTITLED TO TREATMENT?
I mean I'm getting better, however slowly. But they called me from the pain doctor's office and said I could cancel any time and I was wavering but the night before last...WHEW!
So...
They were so UNTOGETHER!
I spoke with three different people and they all said different stuff.
And I'm reading the pre-op page last night and holy crap, I'm doing stuff I'm not supposed to, although the page contradicts the phone calls, and I'm an i-dotter and a t-crosser, I've got to do it right, but if this injection is canceled I've got to wait A WHOLE 'NOTHER WEEK!
So I Uber to Beverly Hills...
Now this is a surgery center. Where you die. So, do I want to be put under or not? The first phone call gave me the option, all the next ones assumed I was going down.
But I walk in and the guy there is asking the same question!
But his wife won't shut up and she's so loud I can't fill out the forms and the clerk says eighty percent of the people go under so I decide I will too.
But then when I go into the facility, the nurse says I won't be going under, it's not in the paperwork, HUH?
It's the untogetherness that's blowing my mind. Can't they get their story straight?
But then they're inserting the IV... Now I've been poked and prodded so much that I can tolerate the pain, but it's becoming clear, this ain't working.
THE WOMAN SCREWED UP TWICE! MISSED MY VEIN TWICE! ONCE IN EACH ARM!
I said NO MAS, bring in someone else! And they did, and she got it right. But when they say you never want to be in a hospital, believe them.
And we're waiting for the doctor and he comes in all harried and disheveled and I'm wondering whether I should just bolt.
But he turns out to quite a nice fellow, impresses me with his competence.
And the anesthesiologist tells me he's been on all three sides of this, putting people out, injecting them, and being injected himself.
Finally, he says he went under for the injection, so I decide I will too.
I mean how paranoid do you want to be?
And they wheel me in and we start talking music, this guy went to the final Springsteen show at the Sports Arena, and I always wonder whether to be all business or friends, since I had a bad experience once, bonding with a doctor who poked a hole in my spine...
And I'm lying face down and they put in the twilight medicine and they prick me in the back and it's all done in about ten minutes. I'm never completely gone, I run a sexual fantasy in my head, I try to feel good, because there's nowhere I need to be, no commitment I need to fulfill, I've just got to go along for the ride, float down the river in heaven, assuming I don't end up in heaven.
And that's it.
They wheel me out and make me drink some water and say I'm done.
Whereupon I get into it with the anesthesiologist. He says it'll take forty eight hours for the steroid to kick in, to lay low before that, but not too low, but it could take eight days for the steroid to take effect.
And then the nurse hands me my exit papers, one I've never seen before, I've got to document my pain, for my follow-up appointment with the pain doctor...no one told me about that! Yup, in two weeks.
And then I'm literally walking out and I run into the injector.
Who says no, I don't have to come back. And that no, I don't have to wait forty eight hours for full effect. And to do whatever I want. And I could get relief that lasts an hour or forever or not at all.
So where does that leave me?
Who the hell knows.
On one hand my back pain is reduced, then again, I've got pain where they shot me up, I've got to ice that.
As far as my knee... Pain is reduced in three areas but still remaining in one. But sometimes you feel better a few hours from now. And even if this doesn't work, I'm on the road to recovery.
So what have we learned?
Damned if I know.
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Wednesday 17 May 2017
Welcome To Cluttersville
You won't know right away.
That's what the internet promised, instant response. But now the pipes are clogged with messages and if your project has any virality, you won't see the signals immediately, but rather two days to two weeks to a month later.
Don't confuse this with hype-driven action. With enough publicity you can get something paid attention to, kinda like that initial Lorde single, but it didn't stick. You want to see an acceleration, a ramp.
And when you're done, you still won't be ubiquitous, you see number one is no longer number one.
How can that be you say?
There's a chart! We believe in data! Logic beat out Chris Stapleton last week!
But how many people know who either of those acts are? Never mind the inane metrics that decide the rankings. Multiple streams of one track equal an album and country has lousy streaming numbers and hip-hop rules online.
Confused yet?
I think it was put best by Chris Robinson on the Howard Stern show yesterday.
I'M NOT IN THE MUSIC BUSINESS!
Huh? Isn't this the frontman of the Black Crowes, with those huge MTV hits, with that tour with Jimmy Page?
But Chris said his wife was his manager and his records don't sell and when asked if his kids wanted to be rock stars he said...
There are no rock stars anymore, just musicians.
Think about that. We've been sold a bill of goods. That everybody could be a star. Not only those on Spotify, but the makeup queens on YouTube, the jokesters on the dearly-departed Vine. Article after article talked about their impact, even though in most cases you'd never heard of these people, and a great percentage have gone back to their day job, or into porn, literally.
So, there's no there there.
Kinda like with D.C., the biggest story extant. It's reported that Donald Trump shared secrets with the Russians and you go to the Fox News website...and it's not even there. Literally. Check it out next time there's a crisis. It's like CNN and Fox are two different world, never mind MSNBC. And isn't it interesting all the stories are being broken by the WaPo and the NYT, we're in a glory era for journalism, it's finally doing its job, once it got over the false equivalencies and Bezos injected capital, but the WSJ is silent, although the WSJ did break the Theranos story.
But the point of all this is if we can't get consensus on the biggest story in our nation, what are the odds we can get consensus on you?
All the tools you used to employ... The late night TV appearances, the feature stories, they don't work. Those hanging on to the last chads of a dying paradigm will still tout NPR and "CBS Sunday Morning," but at best they'll give you a bit of attention, make your core feel good, convince just a few others and then it all stops.
So you're back where you always were, in the business of building your own career.
You're waiting for someone to rescue you, for your one big break, but...
YOU'VE GOT TO RESCUE YOURSELF!
And stunts rarely work and when they do they don't last and...
Amazon celebrated twenty years as a public company and Jeff Bezos attributed its success to a seven year plan in a three year world. Like Fleetwood Mac sang, you've got to go your own way, and they're a good example, it took almost a decade for that band to find the right formula.
And it does take time, and you do have to refine your message, take chances, figure out what works, but when it does...
You will never be as big as you dreamed you'd be. If you're lucky, you will have established a cottage industry, that pays your bills, that allows you some luxuries.
No one is as big as they say they are, never mind how big you think they are. Don't confuse the celebrity industrial complex with true reach. It's all smoke and mirrors, you're on your own now.
But that's not a terrible place to be.
As long as you put your head down and do the work. Put one foot in front of another. And stop dreaming of that rocket ship to success, it no longer exists.
--
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That's what the internet promised, instant response. But now the pipes are clogged with messages and if your project has any virality, you won't see the signals immediately, but rather two days to two weeks to a month later.
Don't confuse this with hype-driven action. With enough publicity you can get something paid attention to, kinda like that initial Lorde single, but it didn't stick. You want to see an acceleration, a ramp.
And when you're done, you still won't be ubiquitous, you see number one is no longer number one.
How can that be you say?
There's a chart! We believe in data! Logic beat out Chris Stapleton last week!
But how many people know who either of those acts are? Never mind the inane metrics that decide the rankings. Multiple streams of one track equal an album and country has lousy streaming numbers and hip-hop rules online.
Confused yet?
I think it was put best by Chris Robinson on the Howard Stern show yesterday.
I'M NOT IN THE MUSIC BUSINESS!
Huh? Isn't this the frontman of the Black Crowes, with those huge MTV hits, with that tour with Jimmy Page?
But Chris said his wife was his manager and his records don't sell and when asked if his kids wanted to be rock stars he said...
There are no rock stars anymore, just musicians.
Think about that. We've been sold a bill of goods. That everybody could be a star. Not only those on Spotify, but the makeup queens on YouTube, the jokesters on the dearly-departed Vine. Article after article talked about their impact, even though in most cases you'd never heard of these people, and a great percentage have gone back to their day job, or into porn, literally.
So, there's no there there.
Kinda like with D.C., the biggest story extant. It's reported that Donald Trump shared secrets with the Russians and you go to the Fox News website...and it's not even there. Literally. Check it out next time there's a crisis. It's like CNN and Fox are two different world, never mind MSNBC. And isn't it interesting all the stories are being broken by the WaPo and the NYT, we're in a glory era for journalism, it's finally doing its job, once it got over the false equivalencies and Bezos injected capital, but the WSJ is silent, although the WSJ did break the Theranos story.
But the point of all this is if we can't get consensus on the biggest story in our nation, what are the odds we can get consensus on you?
All the tools you used to employ... The late night TV appearances, the feature stories, they don't work. Those hanging on to the last chads of a dying paradigm will still tout NPR and "CBS Sunday Morning," but at best they'll give you a bit of attention, make your core feel good, convince just a few others and then it all stops.
So you're back where you always were, in the business of building your own career.
You're waiting for someone to rescue you, for your one big break, but...
YOU'VE GOT TO RESCUE YOURSELF!
And stunts rarely work and when they do they don't last and...
Amazon celebrated twenty years as a public company and Jeff Bezos attributed its success to a seven year plan in a three year world. Like Fleetwood Mac sang, you've got to go your own way, and they're a good example, it took almost a decade for that band to find the right formula.
And it does take time, and you do have to refine your message, take chances, figure out what works, but when it does...
You will never be as big as you dreamed you'd be. If you're lucky, you will have established a cottage industry, that pays your bills, that allows you some luxuries.
No one is as big as they say they are, never mind how big you think they are. Don't confuse the celebrity industrial complex with true reach. It's all smoke and mirrors, you're on your own now.
But that's not a terrible place to be.
As long as you put your head down and do the work. Put one foot in front of another. And stop dreaming of that rocket ship to success, it no longer exists.
--
Visit the archive: http://lefsetz.com/wordpress/?utm_source=phplist5850&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Welcome+To+Cluttersville
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Elton Weighs In
From: Bob Lefsetz
Subject: Hey Elton!
To: Elton John
Hope you're good.
I know you're a big new music fan.
Today's music world is incomprehensible, we need curators who will make sense of it for us, and not just endless playlists on streaming services, so…
Can you recommend ONE recent track (now, or from the previous two years) that you think is a stone cold one listen smash?
I'm not asking you to be obscure, I'm not asking you to come up with one that burnishes your image. I'm asking you to put your programmer hat on. What's the track you think would resonate with the most listeners?
Any explanation as to why would be helpful but unnecessary.
I was listening to the new stuff on Spotify and was overwhelmed, especially by the dreck. And then I was listening to some of my favorites on my iPhone and I got this idea of reaching out to experts and you were the first I thought of…
Thanks!
Bob
____________________________
From: Elton John
Re: Hey Elton!
To: Bob Lefsetz
Dear Bob, nice to hear from you. I agree that the majority of songs on the charts are awful mass produced robotic drek. However,"Human" by Rag And Bone Man should have flown from day one.
Although it is gradually rising up the radio charts it is taking its time.
I am not sure what Sony are doing but this is a number one record in my opinion and has been all over the world. It has a great hook, beautiful production and his voice is wonderful.
My theory is it is too sophisticated and too good a record. Therefore it does not fit in with the tinny, vapid crap constipating the top 100.
I still think it will get there, but Why so long?
All best wishes Elton x
____________________________
https://open.spotify.com/track/58zsLZPvfflaiIbNWoA22O?utm_source=phplist5849&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Elton+Weighs+In
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3wKzyIN1yk&utm_source=phplist5849&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Elton+Weighs+In
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Subject: Hey Elton!
To: Elton John
Hope you're good.
I know you're a big new music fan.
Today's music world is incomprehensible, we need curators who will make sense of it for us, and not just endless playlists on streaming services, so…
Can you recommend ONE recent track (now, or from the previous two years) that you think is a stone cold one listen smash?
I'm not asking you to be obscure, I'm not asking you to come up with one that burnishes your image. I'm asking you to put your programmer hat on. What's the track you think would resonate with the most listeners?
Any explanation as to why would be helpful but unnecessary.
I was listening to the new stuff on Spotify and was overwhelmed, especially by the dreck. And then I was listening to some of my favorites on my iPhone and I got this idea of reaching out to experts and you were the first I thought of…
Thanks!
Bob
____________________________
From: Elton John
Re: Hey Elton!
To: Bob Lefsetz
Dear Bob, nice to hear from you. I agree that the majority of songs on the charts are awful mass produced robotic drek. However,"Human" by Rag And Bone Man should have flown from day one.
Although it is gradually rising up the radio charts it is taking its time.
I am not sure what Sony are doing but this is a number one record in my opinion and has been all over the world. It has a great hook, beautiful production and his voice is wonderful.
My theory is it is too sophisticated and too good a record. Therefore it does not fit in with the tinny, vapid crap constipating the top 100.
I still think it will get there, but Why so long?
All best wishes Elton x
____________________________
https://open.spotify.com/track/58zsLZPvfflaiIbNWoA22O?utm_source=phplist5849&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Elton+Weighs+In
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3wKzyIN1yk&utm_source=phplist5849&utm_medium=email&utm_content=text&utm_campaign=Elton+Weighs+In
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Tuesday 16 May 2017
Master of None-Season 2
There are three record companies, Netflix, Amazon and Hulu.
If you want to know what it was like in the late sixties, during the seventies in the record business, look to streaming TV.
Not the eighties and nineties, those were victory laps, when MTV blew up bands beyond comprehension and then the CD rained down coin. No, go back to the sixties, when record labels were the poor stepsisters of movie studios and then...
Kids couldn't get enough of the newfangled sounds.
What started out as a singles business evolved into albums, with a concomitant increase in revenue, and said revenue funded...Warner Cable. That's why Steve Ross paid Mo and his crew so much money, they were throwing off cash that could be used to fund new projects. And record companies were not like Snapchat, with fake valuations based on financial mania, rather none of the labels was traded separately on the street and they were all selling tonnage. Because people couldn't get enough of the music, it captured the zeitgeist.
Like today's streaming TV.
Now the big change is on demand. This is what hindered the record labels, what put them in second position. They kept trying to hold back the future, whereas Netflix was ahead of its customers, when it went streaming the public blinked, but Reed Hastings was right, never forget, the customer is always last, he doesn't know what he wants, but brilliant seers like Steve Jobs do.
And now we just can't get enough of our TV shows.
Like Aziz Ansari's "Master of None.
No, he's not an unknown. He played in a band, known as "Parks and Recreation," but he wanted a solo deal and Netflix gave it to him.
This is how it was way back when in the record business. Labels were in the habit of saying yes instead of no. They wanted to keep the talent happy, because the talent was everything, the keys to the kingdom, this was before the execs started to believe THEY were the talent, which happened first in movies, and look what a black hole that industry is today.
So Netflix makes a deal with Ansari and he makes an award-winning season and then...
He doesn't repeat himself. That's what the shock is of Season 2. It's different. Just like Dev doesn't want to host "Clash of the Cupcakes" for seven years, Aziz just didn't want to do bro riffs about being South Asian in New York City.
So the series starts off in black and white in Italy, with a takeoff on "The Bicycle Thief." Did you see that in college? Does anybody even watch foreign movies anymore? That's what I love about Aziz, he assumes you did, and if you didn't, he's not gonna pander to you. Everybody's pandering. Did you hear Howard Stern excoriate Ryan Seacrest's new hosting gig with Kelly Ripa? He said Ryan was too busy working to prepare, going from his radio show to TV, and that he was just coming up with lists and the more Howard talked the more you realized he was right, Ryan is stupid, and we want smart.
Aziz is smart.
And the show moves back to New York and it's uneven.
This is what happens when you test limits, you don't always get it right. But if you're not willing to fail, you can't succeed. In music, everybody's repeating themselves, trying to be just like everybody else. You jump from hit to hit and are desperate in between. But a real artist follows his own vision and takes risk.
So, there's an episode Aziz is barely in.
And another with a long, lingering shot of pain, the kind after a great date when you realize you'll never get what you want. That loneliness, inside your own head.
And the episode on acceptance? His gay friend's family won't accept her lesbianism, won't accept any of her girlfriends, but ultimately they come around, it's a beautiful thing, a real thing, what we need in our lives today, for right and left to come together and find out they're both human, work together to be as one.
Aziz is our new Woody Allen. BECAUSE HE'S GOT SELF-RESPECT! As Woody woodshedded he became comfortable being the winner, not the loser. He could see his appeal to women. Could demonstrate his wit and intelligence. Instead of saying he's not good-looking enough, not enough period, Aziz ventures through life like he's an equal, although if you categorize him, lump him in with all Indians, he barks back, like any minority, when you're downtrodden you take no gruff, but somehow it's the whites today who see themselves as underdogs, don't ask me how.
But the truth is these downtrodden whites watch Netflix too. That's right, we all listened to the same music back in the classic era and now we all watch the same television shows. We're more together than apart. This is what we want to spend our time doing and talking about. Going deep into series and then wrestling with the concepts, arguing about them with our friends.
And this is all because Netflix, Amazon and Hulu spend. And give control to the creators. Their win to loss ratio ain't great, but neither was that of the record labels back then. A few hits make up for all of it. A couple of "13 Reasons Why" and "Narcos" fund a zillion experiments wherein you might find the next pot of gold. This was the Warner Records formula. And they didn't give the money to just anybody, but those with a vision, artists.
So enjoy the new golden age. Whenever I write about television my inbox is inundated with recommendations. When I write about music it fills up with insults. How can I not like this hit, how can I have such terrible taste? But music is nearly incomprehensible, there's so much product, so many niches, and then you tune in the hype of the month and listen and say...Eh. But you watch one of these TV shows and they titillate you.
It won't be this way forever. They're gonna run out of potential subscribers, they're gonna tighten the spigot. But Netflix has already eclipsed HBO, not only in subscribers, but content. Every comedian jumped from HBO to Netflix, because of the MONEY! Kinda like the live heyday ushered in by Led Zeppelin. If the gig was gonna sell out anyway, the promoter should only get 10%. Everybody wants to see the new Chappelle and Chris Rock specials, and you sign the stars and that's where the newcomers want to be.
The second season of "Master of None" is not perfect. But the peaks are new and different, they touch your soul.
And isn't that what living is all about?
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If you want to know what it was like in the late sixties, during the seventies in the record business, look to streaming TV.
Not the eighties and nineties, those were victory laps, when MTV blew up bands beyond comprehension and then the CD rained down coin. No, go back to the sixties, when record labels were the poor stepsisters of movie studios and then...
Kids couldn't get enough of the newfangled sounds.
What started out as a singles business evolved into albums, with a concomitant increase in revenue, and said revenue funded...Warner Cable. That's why Steve Ross paid Mo and his crew so much money, they were throwing off cash that could be used to fund new projects. And record companies were not like Snapchat, with fake valuations based on financial mania, rather none of the labels was traded separately on the street and they were all selling tonnage. Because people couldn't get enough of the music, it captured the zeitgeist.
Like today's streaming TV.
Now the big change is on demand. This is what hindered the record labels, what put them in second position. They kept trying to hold back the future, whereas Netflix was ahead of its customers, when it went streaming the public blinked, but Reed Hastings was right, never forget, the customer is always last, he doesn't know what he wants, but brilliant seers like Steve Jobs do.
And now we just can't get enough of our TV shows.
Like Aziz Ansari's "Master of None.
No, he's not an unknown. He played in a band, known as "Parks and Recreation," but he wanted a solo deal and Netflix gave it to him.
This is how it was way back when in the record business. Labels were in the habit of saying yes instead of no. They wanted to keep the talent happy, because the talent was everything, the keys to the kingdom, this was before the execs started to believe THEY were the talent, which happened first in movies, and look what a black hole that industry is today.
So Netflix makes a deal with Ansari and he makes an award-winning season and then...
He doesn't repeat himself. That's what the shock is of Season 2. It's different. Just like Dev doesn't want to host "Clash of the Cupcakes" for seven years, Aziz just didn't want to do bro riffs about being South Asian in New York City.
So the series starts off in black and white in Italy, with a takeoff on "The Bicycle Thief." Did you see that in college? Does anybody even watch foreign movies anymore? That's what I love about Aziz, he assumes you did, and if you didn't, he's not gonna pander to you. Everybody's pandering. Did you hear Howard Stern excoriate Ryan Seacrest's new hosting gig with Kelly Ripa? He said Ryan was too busy working to prepare, going from his radio show to TV, and that he was just coming up with lists and the more Howard talked the more you realized he was right, Ryan is stupid, and we want smart.
Aziz is smart.
And the show moves back to New York and it's uneven.
This is what happens when you test limits, you don't always get it right. But if you're not willing to fail, you can't succeed. In music, everybody's repeating themselves, trying to be just like everybody else. You jump from hit to hit and are desperate in between. But a real artist follows his own vision and takes risk.
So, there's an episode Aziz is barely in.
And another with a long, lingering shot of pain, the kind after a great date when you realize you'll never get what you want. That loneliness, inside your own head.
And the episode on acceptance? His gay friend's family won't accept her lesbianism, won't accept any of her girlfriends, but ultimately they come around, it's a beautiful thing, a real thing, what we need in our lives today, for right and left to come together and find out they're both human, work together to be as one.
Aziz is our new Woody Allen. BECAUSE HE'S GOT SELF-RESPECT! As Woody woodshedded he became comfortable being the winner, not the loser. He could see his appeal to women. Could demonstrate his wit and intelligence. Instead of saying he's not good-looking enough, not enough period, Aziz ventures through life like he's an equal, although if you categorize him, lump him in with all Indians, he barks back, like any minority, when you're downtrodden you take no gruff, but somehow it's the whites today who see themselves as underdogs, don't ask me how.
But the truth is these downtrodden whites watch Netflix too. That's right, we all listened to the same music back in the classic era and now we all watch the same television shows. We're more together than apart. This is what we want to spend our time doing and talking about. Going deep into series and then wrestling with the concepts, arguing about them with our friends.
And this is all because Netflix, Amazon and Hulu spend. And give control to the creators. Their win to loss ratio ain't great, but neither was that of the record labels back then. A few hits make up for all of it. A couple of "13 Reasons Why" and "Narcos" fund a zillion experiments wherein you might find the next pot of gold. This was the Warner Records formula. And they didn't give the money to just anybody, but those with a vision, artists.
So enjoy the new golden age. Whenever I write about television my inbox is inundated with recommendations. When I write about music it fills up with insults. How can I not like this hit, how can I have such terrible taste? But music is nearly incomprehensible, there's so much product, so many niches, and then you tune in the hype of the month and listen and say...Eh. But you watch one of these TV shows and they titillate you.
It won't be this way forever. They're gonna run out of potential subscribers, they're gonna tighten the spigot. But Netflix has already eclipsed HBO, not only in subscribers, but content. Every comedian jumped from HBO to Netflix, because of the MONEY! Kinda like the live heyday ushered in by Led Zeppelin. If the gig was gonna sell out anyway, the promoter should only get 10%. Everybody wants to see the new Chappelle and Chris Rock specials, and you sign the stars and that's where the newcomers want to be.
The second season of "Master of None" is not perfect. But the peaks are new and different, they touch your soul.
And isn't that what living is all about?
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