I admit it, I got turned on to this track by Rascal Flatts's guitarist, Joe Don Rooney.
Yes, I listened. Come on, who wouldn't?
But the reason Mr. Rooney tracked me down was my love of "Still Feels Good," which still puts a smile on my face today. At least that's what I think.
And at first I was not enamored by the intro, and the verse just seemed a bit too pedestrian, but then...there was that change, that drop down, and THE CHORUS!
Some rules are immutable. If you want to have a hit, you've got to have a hook, something that makes our bodies jump and want to sing along.
The track played through and...I had to hear it again.
And the more I heard it, I couldn't stop, I didn't want to leave the space the track put me in.
Now Rascal Flatts have had a hard go of it. Their record company...was downsized/put out of business, their hits dried up and...
Now they're aligned with Scott Borchetta's Big Machine powerhouse and...just maybe they've got a hit.
It's got that good-timey lyric like Little Big Town's "Pontoon"... Oh, it's more introspective than that, but there's the lowest common denominator reference to George Strait and it's hard not to believe a bunch of people were sitting in a room trying to write a hit.
But the truth is there's that chorus and Gary LeVox's vocal.
Not to minimize the contributions of Joe Don Rooney and Jay DeMarcus, it's just that...too many people believe they can make it without the talent, without the goods, without the ability to SING! Sure, Bob Dylan hasn't got a classically good voice, but he's one of the best lyricists of all time. And both John Lennon and Paul McCartney excelled at singing.
"Rewind" has got the Beatle basics. The great vocal, the great chorus, the great harmonies, the only thing it's lacking is a delectable bridge.
Then again, the Beatles were forever, I don't think "Rewind" is.
But while we're waiting for the next groundbreaking track, let's revel in the professionalism and quality of this workmanlike cut that makes me want to go to the gig, throw my fist in the air and sing along.
That's the experience.
Easier said than done.
Respect.
Spotify link: http://spoti.fi/p6HcZ8
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Saturday, 8 February 2014
Friday, 7 February 2014
X Factor Canceled
You won't have Simon Cowell to kick around anymore.
Oh, don't believe that. Stars come and go, starmakers are forever.
Simon will return to the English version of the show and will create another star, which is what Simon Cowell does, just like Clive Davis delivers divas and resuscitates the careers of old farts.
And we never want to hear those Santana all star albums ever again, nor do we want to hear most of the dreck Simon Cowell has pushed upon us, but it's all commerce, you just think it's art.
Let's go back to the beginning, "American Idol."
It launched when the music industry was supposedly dying, when it was deemed a second class citizen not worthy of attention.
But suddenly, music was the main story, at least on television. And those who'd inhabited the sphere previously deludedly believed we were in the middle of a paradigm shift.
We were not.
That shift happened a decade before. With the advent of Mariah Carey. When it became more about the pipes than the song. Come on, you may like that Carey Christmas record, but the rest of her material is substandard, despite all the trumpeting of its chart success.
Yes, old fogies have wondered where their music business has gone, the one wherein Mo Ostin gave you oodles of cash to do it your way. That was after everyone had seen the Beatles and wanted to spill their personal story on stage. But a decade ago, they scraped the country and found out there were a ton of Carey wannabes, not only Christina Aguilera!
Yes, it's been an endless parade of great singers. Or great lookers. And everybody's been scratching their head, wondering...IS THIS WHAT WE'VE COME TO?
Absolutely not.
We've come to a point where music does not drive the culture, where it's a second-class citizen, and the only people who can resuscitate it are the musicians themselves.
"American Idol" was a diversion. It minted almost no stars. But it got everybody bitching that you just couldn't do it the old way anymore, be a traditional artist with something to say, who can play and sing.
But that is incorrect.
Not only has "X Factor" been canceled, the ratings for "American Idol" are foundering. As for "The Voice"... Remember that juggernaut known as "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" Reality singing shows are fads. They're not the main event.
So what have we learned here...
Credit the two Simons, Fuller and Cowell, for seeing an opening, realizing that nothing reaches the public like television, and until you've seen the trick performed a few times, you're vulnerable. Neither was wet behind the ears, they both had long histories in the music business, they just uncovered a successful formula. That's what all business people are looking for, the next hit genre, the next hit music. Give credit to Fuller and Cowell, they made the music come to them.
Furthermore, Cowell knew it was about television. That music was secondary. That he could mold the winner after the fact, and get rich all the while. "American Idol" success may have been scarce, but across the pond there were continued triumphs. Because like every Brit, Cowell is fascinated with America, but doesn't really understand it. That we like our heroes humble. That's what killed "X Factor," it turned out no one was on Simon's side.
But before that mistake, Simon Cowell knew that it was all about the drama, and the best dramas have villains, and he was one.
Furthermore, in a country that's notoriously full of crap, where no one speaks the truth and CEOs constantly apologize, Simon Cowell did neither. In other words, he was all about the truth and he never apologized. He became a star. But very few stars leave their hit band and triumph. David Lee Roth said how great he was, but after a couple of singles he was forgotten. TV, like music, is a team sport. And Cowell had no team at "X Factor."
The villain can't run the show. He's got to be the outside agitator. But on "X Factor," Cowell was the driving personality. And failed. He had neither the heart of Tony Soprano nor the gravitas of Vito Corleone. He was a thin man with an expensive haircut in a white t-shirt. Next!
So Simon Cowell exits the stage with his tail between his legs. Goes back to the U.K to resuscitate his hit show, which is flagging not so much in the ratings as in its ability to mint a diva or boy band the mother country can embrace and discard, that's their way.
But it's not our way in America. In America we've always thrived on a two tier system. The mainstream and the alternative, those who are playing by the rules and those who are inventing a new game.
But MTV unified those two. Everyone drank at the altar of television exposure, the hip no longer wanted to be obscure.
And when MTV stopped playing music and "Idol" and Cowell got all the attention the alternative thought its lunch had been stolen, that it was left out of the game.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Alternative is a state of mind, not a sound. Alternative is for those who think, who want more than nougat at the center.
But some things never change.
You've got to have material.
With hooks.
You've got to be able to sing.
And you've got to have something to say. Not necessarily in words, but emotion.
And if you create this, the usual suspects will come running to your door. Simon Cowell only peddled dreck because he'd run out of quality.
Yes, the problem is not Simon Cowell, or "American Idol," or "The Voice," the enemy is us.
We believe we deserve instant success without doing the hard work.
We believe we need to make as much money as the financial and tech elite, and fly private.
We believe we're entitled to the trappings.
When everything starts with the core.
Art is a journey. You never know where you're going, never mind where you'll end up. You take your chops and woodshed ideas and test them on the public. Sometimes you're a few years ahead, sometimes you're on the wrong track, but if enough artists pursue their dreams...
We end up with quality art.
Nothing is as powerful as music, except maybe sex, and music is much more prevalent and cheaper to afford.
So it's your ball. We're up for anything.
The public led with file-trading. The public led with YouTube. The public is in control, the execs just like to give the appearance that they're steering, but they're not. They don't buy the tickets, you do.
So fifty years after the Beatles the building blocks remain the same.
And we are truly ready for something new.
Something credible, that respects itself, that isn't eager to sell out to rich corporations from the get-go. Come on, if corporations were bastions of creativity, they wouldn't be wiped out by Silicon Valley.
So, so long Simon Cowell. You're a footnote in music history. A Bob Marcucci decades hence.
So long music on television. None of these artists can write a hit, otherwise they wouldn't need to appear on these shows. These productions were always about entertainment, never about music.
And so long the sour grapes that reality singing competitions were ruining the music business. With the slate wiped clean, we're ready for those who realize radio comes second, not first. That if you employ multiple writers you lose the heart, the sincerity, the humanity that delivers a lasting hit. That first and foremost it must sound good.
Nothing's really changed. It's just that the scrim of obfuscation has been removed.
It's time for us to get down to work.
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Oh, don't believe that. Stars come and go, starmakers are forever.
Simon will return to the English version of the show and will create another star, which is what Simon Cowell does, just like Clive Davis delivers divas and resuscitates the careers of old farts.
And we never want to hear those Santana all star albums ever again, nor do we want to hear most of the dreck Simon Cowell has pushed upon us, but it's all commerce, you just think it's art.
Let's go back to the beginning, "American Idol."
It launched when the music industry was supposedly dying, when it was deemed a second class citizen not worthy of attention.
But suddenly, music was the main story, at least on television. And those who'd inhabited the sphere previously deludedly believed we were in the middle of a paradigm shift.
We were not.
That shift happened a decade before. With the advent of Mariah Carey. When it became more about the pipes than the song. Come on, you may like that Carey Christmas record, but the rest of her material is substandard, despite all the trumpeting of its chart success.
Yes, old fogies have wondered where their music business has gone, the one wherein Mo Ostin gave you oodles of cash to do it your way. That was after everyone had seen the Beatles and wanted to spill their personal story on stage. But a decade ago, they scraped the country and found out there were a ton of Carey wannabes, not only Christina Aguilera!
Yes, it's been an endless parade of great singers. Or great lookers. And everybody's been scratching their head, wondering...IS THIS WHAT WE'VE COME TO?
Absolutely not.
We've come to a point where music does not drive the culture, where it's a second-class citizen, and the only people who can resuscitate it are the musicians themselves.
"American Idol" was a diversion. It minted almost no stars. But it got everybody bitching that you just couldn't do it the old way anymore, be a traditional artist with something to say, who can play and sing.
But that is incorrect.
Not only has "X Factor" been canceled, the ratings for "American Idol" are foundering. As for "The Voice"... Remember that juggernaut known as "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" Reality singing shows are fads. They're not the main event.
So what have we learned here...
Credit the two Simons, Fuller and Cowell, for seeing an opening, realizing that nothing reaches the public like television, and until you've seen the trick performed a few times, you're vulnerable. Neither was wet behind the ears, they both had long histories in the music business, they just uncovered a successful formula. That's what all business people are looking for, the next hit genre, the next hit music. Give credit to Fuller and Cowell, they made the music come to them.
Furthermore, Cowell knew it was about television. That music was secondary. That he could mold the winner after the fact, and get rich all the while. "American Idol" success may have been scarce, but across the pond there were continued triumphs. Because like every Brit, Cowell is fascinated with America, but doesn't really understand it. That we like our heroes humble. That's what killed "X Factor," it turned out no one was on Simon's side.
But before that mistake, Simon Cowell knew that it was all about the drama, and the best dramas have villains, and he was one.
Furthermore, in a country that's notoriously full of crap, where no one speaks the truth and CEOs constantly apologize, Simon Cowell did neither. In other words, he was all about the truth and he never apologized. He became a star. But very few stars leave their hit band and triumph. David Lee Roth said how great he was, but after a couple of singles he was forgotten. TV, like music, is a team sport. And Cowell had no team at "X Factor."
The villain can't run the show. He's got to be the outside agitator. But on "X Factor," Cowell was the driving personality. And failed. He had neither the heart of Tony Soprano nor the gravitas of Vito Corleone. He was a thin man with an expensive haircut in a white t-shirt. Next!
So Simon Cowell exits the stage with his tail between his legs. Goes back to the U.K to resuscitate his hit show, which is flagging not so much in the ratings as in its ability to mint a diva or boy band the mother country can embrace and discard, that's their way.
But it's not our way in America. In America we've always thrived on a two tier system. The mainstream and the alternative, those who are playing by the rules and those who are inventing a new game.
But MTV unified those two. Everyone drank at the altar of television exposure, the hip no longer wanted to be obscure.
And when MTV stopped playing music and "Idol" and Cowell got all the attention the alternative thought its lunch had been stolen, that it was left out of the game.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Alternative is a state of mind, not a sound. Alternative is for those who think, who want more than nougat at the center.
But some things never change.
You've got to have material.
With hooks.
You've got to be able to sing.
And you've got to have something to say. Not necessarily in words, but emotion.
And if you create this, the usual suspects will come running to your door. Simon Cowell only peddled dreck because he'd run out of quality.
Yes, the problem is not Simon Cowell, or "American Idol," or "The Voice," the enemy is us.
We believe we deserve instant success without doing the hard work.
We believe we need to make as much money as the financial and tech elite, and fly private.
We believe we're entitled to the trappings.
When everything starts with the core.
Art is a journey. You never know where you're going, never mind where you'll end up. You take your chops and woodshed ideas and test them on the public. Sometimes you're a few years ahead, sometimes you're on the wrong track, but if enough artists pursue their dreams...
We end up with quality art.
Nothing is as powerful as music, except maybe sex, and music is much more prevalent and cheaper to afford.
So it's your ball. We're up for anything.
The public led with file-trading. The public led with YouTube. The public is in control, the execs just like to give the appearance that they're steering, but they're not. They don't buy the tickets, you do.
So fifty years after the Beatles the building blocks remain the same.
And we are truly ready for something new.
Something credible, that respects itself, that isn't eager to sell out to rich corporations from the get-go. Come on, if corporations were bastions of creativity, they wouldn't be wiped out by Silicon Valley.
So, so long Simon Cowell. You're a footnote in music history. A Bob Marcucci decades hence.
So long music on television. None of these artists can write a hit, otherwise they wouldn't need to appear on these shows. These productions were always about entertainment, never about music.
And so long the sour grapes that reality singing competitions were ruining the music business. With the slate wiped clean, we're ready for those who realize radio comes second, not first. That if you employ multiple writers you lose the heart, the sincerity, the humanity that delivers a lasting hit. That first and foremost it must sound good.
Nothing's really changed. It's just that the scrim of obfuscation has been removed.
It's time for us to get down to work.
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Winter
I've been meaning to write about winter. But every time the inspiration hits, I'm far from the computer. And I hate writing when I'm not inspired, because my audience is too large. The negative feedback, or the lack of any feedback at all, is inhibiting. Once upon a time I labored in near-obscurity. It didn't matter what I wrote about, I could mention people's names...but now when I do they read it, so that door is closed, you know, the one wherein you reveal personal experiences, from your viewpoint. Like rejection by wannabe girlfriends. And abuse by males. Why is it that people reach out to put you down? I'm not complaining about it, I just don't understand it. I never send e-mail to public figures, why would they want to hear from me? But I've got people who I have not met who e-mail me religiously, to tell me how ignorant I am, or to set me straight when they haven't completed reading what I wrote to find out I mentioned it.
But now I'm too far off point.
But maybe that is the point. Winter is lonely.
But there are activities. Like board games. And indoor sports like basketball and swimming. They do those in Los Angeles, but without the same ferocity as the east coast, parents don't force their kids to participate to get the out of the house, they go out of the house on a regular basis. With their mobiles in hand.
Yes, we live in a connected world.
But winter is desolate.
That's one thing Alexander Payne got right in the movie "Nebraska." The bleakness.
And that's what I experienced Saturday last, when we landed in Denver. The gray plains with an equally gray sky, as if we lived in a tiny snow globe and exit was restricted.
We were supposed to arrive the night before, but our flight got canceled, it had dumped feet of snow, and now they text you to tell you you're not going and the flights are full so you just can't rebook the next day.
Which is why we ended up in Denver as opposed to Eagle. In a van. With a thin coat of snow covering the Interstate as we crawled along trying to get past an accident. No matter where you go, people can't drive in snow.
Did I ever tell you I was in two accidents in two days?
I wasn't driving.
The first was coming down the hill from the Middlebury College Snow Bowl. Evan's parents had bought him a brand new Datsun 1200, which was just one step above a Tonka toy. It was so weird, this was long before anti-lock brakes, the car we hit was stopped a hundred feet away. Evan just stood on the brakes and we slowly slid right into this Chevrolet, which emerged without a scratch, the Datsun's front end was so crumpled you'd think it had been in a demolition derby.
The next day, in a Volkswagen squareback, someone I don't remember the name of, since I'd hitched the ride, stood on the brakes and we rear-ended a vehicle in town. Violently. But with no resulting damage.
That's winter, it's the land of accidents.
And growing up in Connecticut we yearned for what didn't always occur. In other words, snow would be predicted but it would rain. You'd walk home and end up soaking wet and peel all your clothes off in the bathroom and you'd feel sticky and warm and... That's right, we walked home from school, back before everybody was paranoid their children would be stolen.
And if it did happen to snow, we woke up and turned on the radio, praying that school would be canceled. We didn't care that we had to make up the day in June, we just wanted a holiday, wherein we could go outside and play and come inside and drink hot chocolate and the world would be so quiet.
And then I went to college in Vermont.
Because I got addicted to skiing.
I started in my friend's backyard (that's right, I'm not mentioning his name, I'm not sure I can handle hearing from him), and then my family graduated to Mt. Snow as a result of a promotional film my sixth grade teacher showed us and...
I ended up with two interests, music and skiing. And although I pursued both at college, to say I was an outcast would be an understatement.
You see I just could not take it seriously. I'd played the game, of getting good grades to get into a good college, I was done. But the students at Middlebury, they studied like their lives depended upon it. As if at age thirty, forty, fifty or sixty, someone would want to know where you graduated in your class, as if they'd be interested in what you studied, as if they'd want to know what institution of higher learning you attended.
But they don't.
They try and make you believe life is about jumping through hoops. But the truly successful veer off at some point. The rest are slaves to the grind.
So I went skiing. Every day. Rain or shine. Literally.
And riding that chairlift in the blowing cold, or startling sunshine, I was at peace with myself. Oh, that's not true. I'd aggravate about my equipment, but it'd be my own private sanctuary, a respite from the college doldrums.
I especially liked it when it stormed. Because of the quiet. Because of the isolation.
That's what's been happening in Vail this week. It's been blowing and snowing, it's been cold, at times even brutal, and I've loved it.
Because it reminds me of who I am.
And illustrates that despite our hand-held devices, it's truly just us versus nature. And despite our desire to connect with others, ultimately we're alone. And when you're away from the city, and it's just you and God, it's a religious experience.
And when I think of winter I think of Tori Amos's song. She lost the plot. Tori was so good, she decided she could follow her own muse and we'd all be interested. But the truth is, she forgot that we desire a modicum of comprehensibility. And her audience got older and younger people don't know how good Tori was.
And there was that great song on the subpar Rolling Stones album, you know, "Winter," from "Goats Head Soup." Slow and dreary, it's got that wintry feel.
And now our nation tends to be divided in two. Those who've said SCREW THIS and moved to Florida or sunny Southern California, and the stoics in the northeast, who still remember their SAT scores and where they got rejected from college and believe they're better than the rest of us because they endure the weather.
And that leaves me stuck in between. Because the east made me who I am.
But the west set me free.
So that's kind of what's on my mind. I don't think I nailed the essence of what it feels like to be sliding down a ridge, barely able to see what's in front of you as the snow stings your face.
Nor have I been able to convey the majesty and scariness of the mountains. They're both your friend and your enemy, and too many people don't realize this.
But these thoughts have been rambling around my brain. And instead of waiting for a moment I doubt will come, I decided to lay them down, because that's what a writer does.
And I'm a writer.
It's too stressful to strive to constantly excel. It makes someone refrain from playing. After all, I don't want to lose my audience, like Tori Amos. I'm thankful for it. But I don't want to be constricted by it.
And that's what's going on in my brain on a Friday afternoon as the sun is setting and it's intermittently blowing and snowing and I'm now warm and toasty inside, but outside the window is...my lifeblood.
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But now I'm too far off point.
But maybe that is the point. Winter is lonely.
But there are activities. Like board games. And indoor sports like basketball and swimming. They do those in Los Angeles, but without the same ferocity as the east coast, parents don't force their kids to participate to get the out of the house, they go out of the house on a regular basis. With their mobiles in hand.
Yes, we live in a connected world.
But winter is desolate.
That's one thing Alexander Payne got right in the movie "Nebraska." The bleakness.
And that's what I experienced Saturday last, when we landed in Denver. The gray plains with an equally gray sky, as if we lived in a tiny snow globe and exit was restricted.
We were supposed to arrive the night before, but our flight got canceled, it had dumped feet of snow, and now they text you to tell you you're not going and the flights are full so you just can't rebook the next day.
Which is why we ended up in Denver as opposed to Eagle. In a van. With a thin coat of snow covering the Interstate as we crawled along trying to get past an accident. No matter where you go, people can't drive in snow.
Did I ever tell you I was in two accidents in two days?
I wasn't driving.
The first was coming down the hill from the Middlebury College Snow Bowl. Evan's parents had bought him a brand new Datsun 1200, which was just one step above a Tonka toy. It was so weird, this was long before anti-lock brakes, the car we hit was stopped a hundred feet away. Evan just stood on the brakes and we slowly slid right into this Chevrolet, which emerged without a scratch, the Datsun's front end was so crumpled you'd think it had been in a demolition derby.
The next day, in a Volkswagen squareback, someone I don't remember the name of, since I'd hitched the ride, stood on the brakes and we rear-ended a vehicle in town. Violently. But with no resulting damage.
That's winter, it's the land of accidents.
And growing up in Connecticut we yearned for what didn't always occur. In other words, snow would be predicted but it would rain. You'd walk home and end up soaking wet and peel all your clothes off in the bathroom and you'd feel sticky and warm and... That's right, we walked home from school, back before everybody was paranoid their children would be stolen.
And if it did happen to snow, we woke up and turned on the radio, praying that school would be canceled. We didn't care that we had to make up the day in June, we just wanted a holiday, wherein we could go outside and play and come inside and drink hot chocolate and the world would be so quiet.
And then I went to college in Vermont.
Because I got addicted to skiing.
I started in my friend's backyard (that's right, I'm not mentioning his name, I'm not sure I can handle hearing from him), and then my family graduated to Mt. Snow as a result of a promotional film my sixth grade teacher showed us and...
I ended up with two interests, music and skiing. And although I pursued both at college, to say I was an outcast would be an understatement.
You see I just could not take it seriously. I'd played the game, of getting good grades to get into a good college, I was done. But the students at Middlebury, they studied like their lives depended upon it. As if at age thirty, forty, fifty or sixty, someone would want to know where you graduated in your class, as if they'd be interested in what you studied, as if they'd want to know what institution of higher learning you attended.
But they don't.
They try and make you believe life is about jumping through hoops. But the truly successful veer off at some point. The rest are slaves to the grind.
So I went skiing. Every day. Rain or shine. Literally.
And riding that chairlift in the blowing cold, or startling sunshine, I was at peace with myself. Oh, that's not true. I'd aggravate about my equipment, but it'd be my own private sanctuary, a respite from the college doldrums.
I especially liked it when it stormed. Because of the quiet. Because of the isolation.
That's what's been happening in Vail this week. It's been blowing and snowing, it's been cold, at times even brutal, and I've loved it.
Because it reminds me of who I am.
And illustrates that despite our hand-held devices, it's truly just us versus nature. And despite our desire to connect with others, ultimately we're alone. And when you're away from the city, and it's just you and God, it's a religious experience.
And when I think of winter I think of Tori Amos's song. She lost the plot. Tori was so good, she decided she could follow her own muse and we'd all be interested. But the truth is, she forgot that we desire a modicum of comprehensibility. And her audience got older and younger people don't know how good Tori was.
And there was that great song on the subpar Rolling Stones album, you know, "Winter," from "Goats Head Soup." Slow and dreary, it's got that wintry feel.
And now our nation tends to be divided in two. Those who've said SCREW THIS and moved to Florida or sunny Southern California, and the stoics in the northeast, who still remember their SAT scores and where they got rejected from college and believe they're better than the rest of us because they endure the weather.
And that leaves me stuck in between. Because the east made me who I am.
But the west set me free.
So that's kind of what's on my mind. I don't think I nailed the essence of what it feels like to be sliding down a ridge, barely able to see what's in front of you as the snow stings your face.
Nor have I been able to convey the majesty and scariness of the mountains. They're both your friend and your enemy, and too many people don't realize this.
But these thoughts have been rambling around my brain. And instead of waiting for a moment I doubt will come, I decided to lay them down, because that's what a writer does.
And I'm a writer.
It's too stressful to strive to constantly excel. It makes someone refrain from playing. After all, I don't want to lose my audience, like Tori Amos. I'm thankful for it. But I don't want to be constricted by it.
And that's what's going on in my brain on a Friday afternoon as the sun is setting and it's intermittently blowing and snowing and I'm now warm and toasty inside, but outside the window is...my lifeblood.
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Thursday, 6 February 2014
Odds & Ends
"7 Things a Record Deal Teaches You About the Music Industry"
bit.ly/1fJmaPj
I wish I could have written this myself, but alas, I did not have the experience.
This is the best non-sour grapes delineation of what it means to make a deal with a major I've ever read. It illustrates that first and foremost major labels are about money, not art, and you should never forget this.
Teaching people that making deals with major labels is selling their souls is an enterprise just as worthless as trying to convince them their mobile provider is not the best and acts don't scalp their own tickets. People keep lining up at the door of these companies for a rocket to stardom. Actually, you can buy a rocket to the stars, the Russians sell one, you too can be a cosmonaut for...TWENTY MILLION! (Actually, now they charge $71 million, Lance Bass was gonna get a sweetheart deal.)
Money talks and we're the living proof, that's what Ray Davies said, and he should know. If you take it, you're owned by it.
And never forget that major labels are not in the artist development business, but the hit business. Their idea of artist development is taking nine months or a year to break something, if you think they're going to sit idly by while you noodle in the studio and record three stiff albums...you must've been signed to Warner Brothers back in the seventies.
However, although Spose says he's got a successful Kickstarter campaign and a fan base that generates cash, don't delude yourself into thinking he's a star. That's the major label's business. Or your own if you're really that damn good and willing to pound the boards building an audience over a period of years.
You cannot build an audience via Twitter and Facebook, social networking can only burnish the brand at most. It's the core that drives people to you...your music and your performance.
There is no easy way out.
Or, you can make a deal with the devil, but please have no illusions he's an angel.
_________________________________
I was wrong. Larry David was involved with the "Seinfeld" Super Bowl spot. He cowrote it with Jerry and directed it.
Mea culpa.
But the Beatles never got back together and the "Seinfeld" people should hang it up too. Otherwise it looks like you're holding on to the last gasp of fame. Then again, the "Seinfeld" reunion on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" was great, proving that there are no rules.
Then again, Jerry is the guy who is friends with both Leno and Letterman, the way he sits above it all bothers me. In other words, if you don't have enemies, if you don't have faults, if you've got no insecurities...I've got a hard time relating to you.
_________________________________
From: John David Souther
Subject: Re: Dealing With Hate
Date: December 20, 2013 10:15:55 PM MST
Bob,
Brilliant work lately. I completely agree with most of what you wrote about Linda Ronstadt's induction into Rock n Roll Hall of Fame a mere 40 years after she changed the sound of popular music, though our lives were actually a good deal more tame than is often portrayed. But then I was just inducted into Songwriter Hall of Fame this year and she and I are about the same age. …So What, as Miles played with more eloquence than I can say. The point was always to do good work. If something extra comes with it, you can only feel grateful. Just glad to be here (and there) and am even happier for her than for myself. A life in music, or anything you're passionate about for that matter, is its own reward. I always thought of Linda as my greatest collaborator, in a way, as she made my maturity as a writer imperative and still does. She has, in my opinion, the most beautiful voice of my generation and I'm still awed by the power of those performances. We speak often and I am sure she
knows how I feel but I welcome the opportunity to publicly say that she made my songwriting career a reality.
Regarding today's page about haters; I think a mantra is writ with "Hate is invisible until you amplify it". Thank you and Happy New Year.
Best till we meet again,
JD Souther
_________________________________
Subject: RE: The Super Bowl
Date: February 3, 2014 10:41 AM MST
Brilliant summary of Super Bowl weekend.
Well done!
Joe Walsh
_________________________________
From: Gary Wright
Subject: Your blog
Date: January 15, 2014 PST
Hi Bob,
I just read your blog about "Love is Alive" and was very pleased at what you said. It's true that although most people know me for Dream Weaver, the artists and musicians prefer Love is Alive. I am coming out with a book in September called "Dream Weaver" and it's basically my memoirs, including my music, meditation and my friendship with George Harrison. Penguin/ Random House are publishing it and I will be doing a nation wide tour of Performing Arts Centers beginning next October. If there is anything you want to do to announce the release or talk with me about the book let me know.
Thanks Bob
Gary
_________________________________
From: Phil Volk
Subject: Those overlooked by RRHOF
Date: December 19, 2013 12:18:28 PM MST
Hey Bob,
I read your piece on the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Inductees. It was very passionate and you definitely made some good points...Yeah, Hallelujah is a pretty strong word, but indeed, it really is about time that some of these groups get recognized. I agree. Some great rock bands from the 1960's have been overlooked for decades. One of the most visible groups of that era, Paul Revere & the Raiders, have been routinely passed over as "unworthy" or perhaps, "not cool enough," according to the "supercool hipsters" on the judging panel...What a shame. Paul Shaffer has been the exception with his constant love and appreciation for the band's legacy and long list of musical hits, that he often plays on the Late Night TV Show. His well-documented remarks that "the Raiders are, without a doubt, America's number one showband!" pretty much sums up his unfading & loyal admiration. He's told me many times, that the Raiders influenced him to pursue music when he was growing up, as he regularly
watched us perform on Dick Clark's "Where the Action Is" daily TV show...Will Lee has told me that he wanted to become a bass player after seeing me on the show and hearing my bass lines on our records. The people who actually witnessed our rise to fame, actually thought it was pretty cool, and well-deserved after our many hard-working years on the dance circuit in the Northwest. We were the real deal – we were real musicians first, showmen second... Little Stevie van Zant said it best: "The fact that Paul Revere & the Raiders have been overlooked by the RRHOF is simply criminal." I couldn't have said it better myself...
Keep rockin'
Phil "Fang" Volk
original bass player & core member of PR & the R's
_________________________________
From: Mike Caren
Subject: Re: Mailbag
Date: December 7, 2013 1:07:50 PM MST
I agree re many of Mikael's comments regarding managers. I don't think that acts realize how influential their manager is in whether a label, publisher or agent is going to go into business with them. It's not about having a big manager either. Big managers with too many clients and weak support are often worse than less experienced (yet smart) managers who are fully dedicated.
Now there are so many small promo outlets, so many little things a band can do, and so many choices when facing adversity, that how an act divides up their time is the most important decision they will face. There are still only 24 hours in the day even though every promotional opportunity has been watered down, and digital recording has allowed the writing and recording process to be cheap enough to go on infinitely. The act's schedule is the roadmap to its success.
On top of that, everyone is fighting to change that roadmap and defending it requires strong will plus the ability to deliver respectful no's. This includes to the act as well, or at least delivering impactful reminders of why earlier decisions were agreed to and what the real goal is.
I personally wish every act out there finds the right team. As an industry, I'd like to see better matchmaking and more superstar acts on every label (ok maybe more on WMG). It's good for the business and good for everyone. Hopefully our next wave of future execs get greater access to mentors and technology helps the manager matchmaking process evolve.
Mike Caren
Warner Music Group
_________________________________
From: BERTON AVERRE
Subject: Re: Hipster Death Spiral
Date: December 20, 2013 3:02:24 PM MST
On Dec 20, 2013, at 10:54 AM, Bob Lefsetz wrote:
"On Twitter all the rock critics are beating me up for saying that I'm happy with the R&RHOF inductees. I'm an idiot! Don't I know that I should be championing the obscure? That anything successful is not worth paying attention to?"
The old argument "if it's popular it can't be great" is trotted out by the so-called cognoscenti in all art and entertainment forms. It's pernicious in that it provides the wannabe whiners with the age-old Stravinsky false syllogism. A.) "The Rite Of Spring" wasn't understood in its time. B.) Stravinsky was a genius. Therefore, C.) Unappreciated in my own time, I must also be a genius. The argument as well just happens to supply a justification for critics and other commentators: "I'm smart enough to hear genius in what to you sounds like crap. You need me to figure this stuff out." Incidentally, the hostile reaction "The Rite of Spring" premiere got in 1912 was directed more towards the ballet choreography, which was considered bestial and ugly, and Stravinsky had already been a recognized success for "The Firebird".
But nowhere is the old "Popular vs. Great" paradigm more ludicrous than in pop music. Because being catchy, being entertaining, being immediate -- in other words, being a "hit" -- is a vital and essential aspect of the art form itself. Hell, it's in the name: Popular Music. Until the would-be opinion makers can make a compelling case that Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, Chuck Berry and the Beatles weren't trying to make hits I'll continue to ignore their blather with contempt. I guess my knowledge of Italian is spottier than I thought. "Cognoscenti" must mean "Those who don't know what the f___ they're talking about."
_________________________________
From: Tom Lewis
Subject: Re: Hipster Death Spiral
Date: December 20, 2013 12:37:56 PM MST
Hi Bob,
In April 2012, Spanish singer Juan Zelada announced a 26 date UK tour with a money-back guarantee. He played to over 3000 people. No one asked for their money back.
Best wishes
Tom Lewis
Decca Records
_________________________________
Subject: Beyonce Wallmart Stunt - A new low in "shameless" self promotion
Date: December 21, 2013 12:09:06 PM MST
Hi Bob-
I don't normally "go off" when I happen to turn on the television and catch a network "news" program. But ABC did a piece this morning on Beyonce's surprise appearance at a Walmart in Massachusetts. She was allegedly there to "shop" for Christmas gifts. (Yeah, that sounds like where Beyonce would shop. ) So the cameras followed her around...and she just happens to stop by the CD section to pick up a copy of her new CD. (Like she needs a copy.) (And of course has a photo op of her holding the CD.) And then she surprises everyone by getting on the PA in the store and giving them all a Christmas gift! And what was the gift? - $50 per family. (My reaction is best expressed by Pvt. Hudson (Bill Paxton) in the movie "Aliens" - "Whoopty-F**kin'-do!")
So someone who prances around like a queen throwing pennies to the poor...she drops a whopping $38,000 on this charade. Now she is only worth around $300 million so this represents a real sacrifice. Now the fact that Target refused to carry her new CD since she leaked it on line and she was concerned that her fans might not know it was for sale at Walmart, I'm sure had nothing to do with this.
This is the Christmas season...these folks at Walmart are not shopping there because they don't like the merchandise at Neiman Marcus. She is a very intelligent business woman wanting to squeeze every dollar of profit. However, I think it is shameful that someone worth $300 million uses poor Walmart shoppers as pawns and buys herself a few million in free publicity for a token $38K. Everyone talks about income inequality. We have more income inequality in our society now than at any time since the Dark Ages....we live in a world where the precious few live in their castles and throw breadcrumbs to the poor. I'm sorry, but I just feel this stunt was just plain shameless and cruel. But as Beyonce might say..."Merry Christmas to me!"
Tom Sharrard
Gardiner, NY
_________________________________
Subject: Re: Retention
Date: January 3, 2014 8:35:49 PM MST
I work at an apple store and try to push people to verizon with every iphone I sell. I'm not incentivized to do so and actually, it's against apple policy to suggest one carrier over another. We're meant to be neutral and sort of neutered with our suggestions. I do it because i find it morally wrong to sell people the best phone in existence with a contract locking them to piece of s___ networks.
My ex was on Sprint and it was infuriating trying to communicate with her. We once drove around Venice all the way south to marina del Rey and she didn't have service for the entire drive.
My current gf has att and phone calls with her are unintelligible. I can only understand every 8th word she says. Infuriating.
Many cheapos balk at the price of Verizon ($5 more a month at the lower end, equal to att on the higher end) and as you said, so many are terrified of leaving. They have no idea what it's like to have a fully functioning cell phone if they've only ever had att. Change is SCARY I guess. Others don't want to give up their unlimited data (even though most of them have no idea what that means or are very small data users as is).
We get the fewest Verizon users out of all the networks at the Genius Bar because many issues people come in with are caused by their idiot cell networks. iPhones on T-mobile are non-functioning. Sprint iPhones are a tiny hair above them.
I loved your email. I want to send it to all my att friends but they'll never switch. NEVER!!!
Please remove my name if you repost. Apple confidentiality and all :)
_________________________________
Subject: I'll Eat You Last
Date: December 12, 2013 9:26:52 PM MST
After High School I went to Syracuse University to study Television Radio and Film in The Newhouse School of Public Communications...Besides freezing my ass off for 3 and half years..and smoking a lot of pot....I really got a great education...Did a lot of play by play sports for the local network and was known as Johnny Disk on the Campus radio station...
When I graduated I thought I would head home to LA..and..start a career in Broadcasting...but..I soon realized that wouldn't really work out since my Dad (yes I had one in the entertainment business) was one of the kings in the voice over world...He was the voice of ABC and Disney for over 35 years..Did 25 Grammy, Emmy, Academy and Tony Awards..Most of all the live variety shows..thousand of commercials...but..was probably best known as the voice of The Robot on Lost in Space...and he was only 50 when I came home...So I figured why the hell would anyone hire me if they could get him...
He was an absolute sweetheart and offered many times to try and help me..I idolized him..but..I really wanted to find out if I could not be known as his kid..and..make it on my own..since I always talked a lot and was loud I decided to apply in the mailroom at both ICM and William Morris..with the intent of someday maybe becoming a Talent Agent (though I had no idea what they did)..I got offered a job in the mailroom at ICM and made a whopping $125 a week..I was the only one in there without a law degree from some Ivy league school..Anyways..I worked my ass off, sometimes working 18 hours a day..Not saying a word and just absorbing everything I could like a sponge...
After about 2 months of this, one night Tom Ross (at the time the Head of the Music Department) came back from a concert at about 11pm..saw me (I was the only one still there) and said who the f___ are you..so I told him I was a mailroom boy who really did not want to be a mailroom boy..He asked me if I would want to work in the Music Dept..(beside my Dad being best friends with Miles Davis) I told him I know nothing about music except the music I liked..but..then I told him I would love to work in the Talent Department...He said let me to talk to someone..Two days later I was told to go to Sue Mengers office..
I thought..oh s___ I sent Streisand's picture to the wrong person or place..I walked in shaking like a leaf and was to told to walk in to Sue's gigantic office and sit down..I did..She glared at me and then said "so do you know how to roll a joint?"...I started laughing and feeling very relieved..told her not only could I roll a doob..I could do it while driving my car with my legs..and roll a perfect one..She laughed and told me I was hired...so like an idiot.. I said you mean to roll your joints..she laughed and said no dummy you are my new assistant...and..that started an amazing year and a quarter..and..a..pretty good career...
Sue's first 5 calls every morning were.Streisand, Dianne Von Furstenberg, Barry Diller, David Geffen and Robert Evans..and at 11:30 every morning without fail..Rona Barrett (who was the gossip columnist for ABC) would call and Sue would dictate word for word the entire script for her evening broadcast..She would wear moomoo's everyday..no underwear underneath and when Marvin Josephson (who owned ICM) would walk in she would put her feet upon her desk..lite up a joint..spread her legs (not a pretty sight) and say Can I help you Marvin?...
Every phone call from a potential buyer for one of her clients always started with I won't read it without at least a 2 million dollar offer..She was a wonderful teacher..because..I was the one who read the script first and she really wanted to know what I thought of it..I'll never forget the time she came into the office around 12pm one day and said I've got great news for you..you are going on your 1st business trip.
I go great..where am I going..she said Oakland...I say great why Oakland?..She laughs and tells me her $150 thousand dollar Mercedes was stolen and I'm going up there to drive it home..So I get on the 1st plane up there and of course by the time I arrive.. the compound where the car was being held was closed..So on my $125 salary I book a room..pick up the car the next morning and proceed to drive it back..and get pulled over twice for driving a stolen vehicle...I was 25..long hair and certainly didn't look like I belonged in a car of that caliber...I was so shaken by the time I got back..I told Sue..next time you want me to take a business trip..you take it...
I was a horrible assistant..didn't take short hand..so she would dictate..and.I.would rewrite every word...When I finally became an agent..the 1st client I signed was at the time a very hot Shirley Jones...Those were the days before computers and emails..so all the agents would get interoffice memos...She wrote to me..which I still have..cc'd all the other agents and said..."Thank God You Sign Better Then You Type"...Love,Sue...
Bob..My Wife, Emily (who I met at Syracuse and been married for 36 years) and I saw the play last night..Midler was perfect...and...every story and line in the play was spot on...and...the...memories came flooding back into my soul...Sue was right..It was fun..so much fun..Sorry to be so lengthy...but..I wanted to write to you after I saw it...By the way..Talent skips a generation in my family...Both my kids are doing great...and..my Daughter,Amanda is in the music business...with no help from Dad..Read you all the time..and...always enjoy your insights..Peace..Bruce Tufeld
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bit.ly/1fJmaPj
I wish I could have written this myself, but alas, I did not have the experience.
This is the best non-sour grapes delineation of what it means to make a deal with a major I've ever read. It illustrates that first and foremost major labels are about money, not art, and you should never forget this.
Teaching people that making deals with major labels is selling their souls is an enterprise just as worthless as trying to convince them their mobile provider is not the best and acts don't scalp their own tickets. People keep lining up at the door of these companies for a rocket to stardom. Actually, you can buy a rocket to the stars, the Russians sell one, you too can be a cosmonaut for...TWENTY MILLION! (Actually, now they charge $71 million, Lance Bass was gonna get a sweetheart deal.)
Money talks and we're the living proof, that's what Ray Davies said, and he should know. If you take it, you're owned by it.
And never forget that major labels are not in the artist development business, but the hit business. Their idea of artist development is taking nine months or a year to break something, if you think they're going to sit idly by while you noodle in the studio and record three stiff albums...you must've been signed to Warner Brothers back in the seventies.
However, although Spose says he's got a successful Kickstarter campaign and a fan base that generates cash, don't delude yourself into thinking he's a star. That's the major label's business. Or your own if you're really that damn good and willing to pound the boards building an audience over a period of years.
You cannot build an audience via Twitter and Facebook, social networking can only burnish the brand at most. It's the core that drives people to you...your music and your performance.
There is no easy way out.
Or, you can make a deal with the devil, but please have no illusions he's an angel.
_________________________________
I was wrong. Larry David was involved with the "Seinfeld" Super Bowl spot. He cowrote it with Jerry and directed it.
Mea culpa.
But the Beatles never got back together and the "Seinfeld" people should hang it up too. Otherwise it looks like you're holding on to the last gasp of fame. Then again, the "Seinfeld" reunion on "Curb Your Enthusiasm" was great, proving that there are no rules.
Then again, Jerry is the guy who is friends with both Leno and Letterman, the way he sits above it all bothers me. In other words, if you don't have enemies, if you don't have faults, if you've got no insecurities...I've got a hard time relating to you.
_________________________________
From: John David Souther
Subject: Re: Dealing With Hate
Date: December 20, 2013 10:15:55 PM MST
Bob,
Brilliant work lately. I completely agree with most of what you wrote about Linda Ronstadt's induction into Rock n Roll Hall of Fame a mere 40 years after she changed the sound of popular music, though our lives were actually a good deal more tame than is often portrayed. But then I was just inducted into Songwriter Hall of Fame this year and she and I are about the same age. …So What, as Miles played with more eloquence than I can say. The point was always to do good work. If something extra comes with it, you can only feel grateful. Just glad to be here (and there) and am even happier for her than for myself. A life in music, or anything you're passionate about for that matter, is its own reward. I always thought of Linda as my greatest collaborator, in a way, as she made my maturity as a writer imperative and still does. She has, in my opinion, the most beautiful voice of my generation and I'm still awed by the power of those performances. We speak often and I am sure she
knows how I feel but I welcome the opportunity to publicly say that she made my songwriting career a reality.
Regarding today's page about haters; I think a mantra is writ with "Hate is invisible until you amplify it". Thank you and Happy New Year.
Best till we meet again,
JD Souther
_________________________________
Subject: RE: The Super Bowl
Date: February 3, 2014 10:41 AM MST
Brilliant summary of Super Bowl weekend.
Well done!
Joe Walsh
_________________________________
From: Gary Wright
Subject: Your blog
Date: January 15, 2014 PST
Hi Bob,
I just read your blog about "Love is Alive" and was very pleased at what you said. It's true that although most people know me for Dream Weaver, the artists and musicians prefer Love is Alive. I am coming out with a book in September called "Dream Weaver" and it's basically my memoirs, including my music, meditation and my friendship with George Harrison. Penguin/ Random House are publishing it and I will be doing a nation wide tour of Performing Arts Centers beginning next October. If there is anything you want to do to announce the release or talk with me about the book let me know.
Thanks Bob
Gary
_________________________________
From: Phil Volk
Subject: Those overlooked by RRHOF
Date: December 19, 2013 12:18:28 PM MST
Hey Bob,
I read your piece on the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Inductees. It was very passionate and you definitely made some good points...Yeah, Hallelujah is a pretty strong word, but indeed, it really is about time that some of these groups get recognized. I agree. Some great rock bands from the 1960's have been overlooked for decades. One of the most visible groups of that era, Paul Revere & the Raiders, have been routinely passed over as "unworthy" or perhaps, "not cool enough," according to the "supercool hipsters" on the judging panel...What a shame. Paul Shaffer has been the exception with his constant love and appreciation for the band's legacy and long list of musical hits, that he often plays on the Late Night TV Show. His well-documented remarks that "the Raiders are, without a doubt, America's number one showband!" pretty much sums up his unfading & loyal admiration. He's told me many times, that the Raiders influenced him to pursue music when he was growing up, as he regularly
watched us perform on Dick Clark's "Where the Action Is" daily TV show...Will Lee has told me that he wanted to become a bass player after seeing me on the show and hearing my bass lines on our records. The people who actually witnessed our rise to fame, actually thought it was pretty cool, and well-deserved after our many hard-working years on the dance circuit in the Northwest. We were the real deal – we were real musicians first, showmen second... Little Stevie van Zant said it best: "The fact that Paul Revere & the Raiders have been overlooked by the RRHOF is simply criminal." I couldn't have said it better myself...
Keep rockin'
Phil "Fang" Volk
original bass player & core member of PR & the R's
_________________________________
From: Mike Caren
Subject: Re: Mailbag
Date: December 7, 2013 1:07:50 PM MST
I agree re many of Mikael's comments regarding managers. I don't think that acts realize how influential their manager is in whether a label, publisher or agent is going to go into business with them. It's not about having a big manager either. Big managers with too many clients and weak support are often worse than less experienced (yet smart) managers who are fully dedicated.
Now there are so many small promo outlets, so many little things a band can do, and so many choices when facing adversity, that how an act divides up their time is the most important decision they will face. There are still only 24 hours in the day even though every promotional opportunity has been watered down, and digital recording has allowed the writing and recording process to be cheap enough to go on infinitely. The act's schedule is the roadmap to its success.
On top of that, everyone is fighting to change that roadmap and defending it requires strong will plus the ability to deliver respectful no's. This includes to the act as well, or at least delivering impactful reminders of why earlier decisions were agreed to and what the real goal is.
I personally wish every act out there finds the right team. As an industry, I'd like to see better matchmaking and more superstar acts on every label (ok maybe more on WMG). It's good for the business and good for everyone. Hopefully our next wave of future execs get greater access to mentors and technology helps the manager matchmaking process evolve.
Mike Caren
Warner Music Group
_________________________________
From: BERTON AVERRE
Subject: Re: Hipster Death Spiral
Date: December 20, 2013 3:02:24 PM MST
On Dec 20, 2013, at 10:54 AM, Bob Lefsetz wrote:
"On Twitter all the rock critics are beating me up for saying that I'm happy with the R&RHOF inductees. I'm an idiot! Don't I know that I should be championing the obscure? That anything successful is not worth paying attention to?"
The old argument "if it's popular it can't be great" is trotted out by the so-called cognoscenti in all art and entertainment forms. It's pernicious in that it provides the wannabe whiners with the age-old Stravinsky false syllogism. A.) "The Rite Of Spring" wasn't understood in its time. B.) Stravinsky was a genius. Therefore, C.) Unappreciated in my own time, I must also be a genius. The argument as well just happens to supply a justification for critics and other commentators: "I'm smart enough to hear genius in what to you sounds like crap. You need me to figure this stuff out." Incidentally, the hostile reaction "The Rite of Spring" premiere got in 1912 was directed more towards the ballet choreography, which was considered bestial and ugly, and Stravinsky had already been a recognized success for "The Firebird".
But nowhere is the old "Popular vs. Great" paradigm more ludicrous than in pop music. Because being catchy, being entertaining, being immediate -- in other words, being a "hit" -- is a vital and essential aspect of the art form itself. Hell, it's in the name: Popular Music. Until the would-be opinion makers can make a compelling case that Irving Berlin, George Gershwin, Chuck Berry and the Beatles weren't trying to make hits I'll continue to ignore their blather with contempt. I guess my knowledge of Italian is spottier than I thought. "Cognoscenti" must mean "Those who don't know what the f___ they're talking about."
_________________________________
From: Tom Lewis
Subject: Re: Hipster Death Spiral
Date: December 20, 2013 12:37:56 PM MST
Hi Bob,
In April 2012, Spanish singer Juan Zelada announced a 26 date UK tour with a money-back guarantee. He played to over 3000 people. No one asked for their money back.
Best wishes
Tom Lewis
Decca Records
_________________________________
Subject: Beyonce Wallmart Stunt - A new low in "shameless" self promotion
Date: December 21, 2013 12:09:06 PM MST
Hi Bob-
I don't normally "go off" when I happen to turn on the television and catch a network "news" program. But ABC did a piece this morning on Beyonce's surprise appearance at a Walmart in Massachusetts. She was allegedly there to "shop" for Christmas gifts. (Yeah, that sounds like where Beyonce would shop. ) So the cameras followed her around...and she just happens to stop by the CD section to pick up a copy of her new CD. (Like she needs a copy.) (And of course has a photo op of her holding the CD.) And then she surprises everyone by getting on the PA in the store and giving them all a Christmas gift! And what was the gift? - $50 per family. (My reaction is best expressed by Pvt. Hudson (Bill Paxton) in the movie "Aliens" - "Whoopty-F**kin'-do!")
So someone who prances around like a queen throwing pennies to the poor...she drops a whopping $38,000 on this charade. Now she is only worth around $300 million so this represents a real sacrifice. Now the fact that Target refused to carry her new CD since she leaked it on line and she was concerned that her fans might not know it was for sale at Walmart, I'm sure had nothing to do with this.
This is the Christmas season...these folks at Walmart are not shopping there because they don't like the merchandise at Neiman Marcus. She is a very intelligent business woman wanting to squeeze every dollar of profit. However, I think it is shameful that someone worth $300 million uses poor Walmart shoppers as pawns and buys herself a few million in free publicity for a token $38K. Everyone talks about income inequality. We have more income inequality in our society now than at any time since the Dark Ages....we live in a world where the precious few live in their castles and throw breadcrumbs to the poor. I'm sorry, but I just feel this stunt was just plain shameless and cruel. But as Beyonce might say..."Merry Christmas to me!"
Tom Sharrard
Gardiner, NY
_________________________________
Subject: Re: Retention
Date: January 3, 2014 8:35:49 PM MST
I work at an apple store and try to push people to verizon with every iphone I sell. I'm not incentivized to do so and actually, it's against apple policy to suggest one carrier over another. We're meant to be neutral and sort of neutered with our suggestions. I do it because i find it morally wrong to sell people the best phone in existence with a contract locking them to piece of s___ networks.
My ex was on Sprint and it was infuriating trying to communicate with her. We once drove around Venice all the way south to marina del Rey and she didn't have service for the entire drive.
My current gf has att and phone calls with her are unintelligible. I can only understand every 8th word she says. Infuriating.
Many cheapos balk at the price of Verizon ($5 more a month at the lower end, equal to att on the higher end) and as you said, so many are terrified of leaving. They have no idea what it's like to have a fully functioning cell phone if they've only ever had att. Change is SCARY I guess. Others don't want to give up their unlimited data (even though most of them have no idea what that means or are very small data users as is).
We get the fewest Verizon users out of all the networks at the Genius Bar because many issues people come in with are caused by their idiot cell networks. iPhones on T-mobile are non-functioning. Sprint iPhones are a tiny hair above them.
I loved your email. I want to send it to all my att friends but they'll never switch. NEVER!!!
Please remove my name if you repost. Apple confidentiality and all :)
_________________________________
Subject: I'll Eat You Last
Date: December 12, 2013 9:26:52 PM MST
After High School I went to Syracuse University to study Television Radio and Film in The Newhouse School of Public Communications...Besides freezing my ass off for 3 and half years..and smoking a lot of pot....I really got a great education...Did a lot of play by play sports for the local network and was known as Johnny Disk on the Campus radio station...
When I graduated I thought I would head home to LA..and..start a career in Broadcasting...but..I soon realized that wouldn't really work out since my Dad (yes I had one in the entertainment business) was one of the kings in the voice over world...He was the voice of ABC and Disney for over 35 years..Did 25 Grammy, Emmy, Academy and Tony Awards..Most of all the live variety shows..thousand of commercials...but..was probably best known as the voice of The Robot on Lost in Space...and he was only 50 when I came home...So I figured why the hell would anyone hire me if they could get him...
He was an absolute sweetheart and offered many times to try and help me..I idolized him..but..I really wanted to find out if I could not be known as his kid..and..make it on my own..since I always talked a lot and was loud I decided to apply in the mailroom at both ICM and William Morris..with the intent of someday maybe becoming a Talent Agent (though I had no idea what they did)..I got offered a job in the mailroom at ICM and made a whopping $125 a week..I was the only one in there without a law degree from some Ivy league school..Anyways..I worked my ass off, sometimes working 18 hours a day..Not saying a word and just absorbing everything I could like a sponge...
After about 2 months of this, one night Tom Ross (at the time the Head of the Music Department) came back from a concert at about 11pm..saw me (I was the only one still there) and said who the f___ are you..so I told him I was a mailroom boy who really did not want to be a mailroom boy..He asked me if I would want to work in the Music Dept..(beside my Dad being best friends with Miles Davis) I told him I know nothing about music except the music I liked..but..then I told him I would love to work in the Talent Department...He said let me to talk to someone..Two days later I was told to go to Sue Mengers office..
I thought..oh s___ I sent Streisand's picture to the wrong person or place..I walked in shaking like a leaf and was to told to walk in to Sue's gigantic office and sit down..I did..She glared at me and then said "so do you know how to roll a joint?"...I started laughing and feeling very relieved..told her not only could I roll a doob..I could do it while driving my car with my legs..and roll a perfect one..She laughed and told me I was hired...so like an idiot.. I said you mean to roll your joints..she laughed and said no dummy you are my new assistant...and..that started an amazing year and a quarter..and..a..pretty good career...
Sue's first 5 calls every morning were.Streisand, Dianne Von Furstenberg, Barry Diller, David Geffen and Robert Evans..and at 11:30 every morning without fail..Rona Barrett (who was the gossip columnist for ABC) would call and Sue would dictate word for word the entire script for her evening broadcast..She would wear moomoo's everyday..no underwear underneath and when Marvin Josephson (who owned ICM) would walk in she would put her feet upon her desk..lite up a joint..spread her legs (not a pretty sight) and say Can I help you Marvin?...
Every phone call from a potential buyer for one of her clients always started with I won't read it without at least a 2 million dollar offer..She was a wonderful teacher..because..I was the one who read the script first and she really wanted to know what I thought of it..I'll never forget the time she came into the office around 12pm one day and said I've got great news for you..you are going on your 1st business trip.
I go great..where am I going..she said Oakland...I say great why Oakland?..She laughs and tells me her $150 thousand dollar Mercedes was stolen and I'm going up there to drive it home..So I get on the 1st plane up there and of course by the time I arrive.. the compound where the car was being held was closed..So on my $125 salary I book a room..pick up the car the next morning and proceed to drive it back..and get pulled over twice for driving a stolen vehicle...I was 25..long hair and certainly didn't look like I belonged in a car of that caliber...I was so shaken by the time I got back..I told Sue..next time you want me to take a business trip..you take it...
I was a horrible assistant..didn't take short hand..so she would dictate..and.I.would rewrite every word...When I finally became an agent..the 1st client I signed was at the time a very hot Shirley Jones...Those were the days before computers and emails..so all the agents would get interoffice memos...She wrote to me..which I still have..cc'd all the other agents and said..."Thank God You Sign Better Then You Type"...Love,Sue...
Bob..My Wife, Emily (who I met at Syracuse and been married for 36 years) and I saw the play last night..Midler was perfect...and...every story and line in the play was spot on...and...the...memories came flooding back into my soul...Sue was right..It was fun..so much fun..Sorry to be so lengthy...but..I wanted to write to you after I saw it...By the way..Talent skips a generation in my family...Both my kids are doing great...and..my Daughter,Amanda is in the music business...with no help from Dad..Read you all the time..and...always enjoy your insights..Peace..Bruce Tufeld
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Wednesday, 5 February 2014
London Grammar "Hey Now"
Spotify: http://spoti.fi/1e4GSUQ
YouTube: http://bit.ly/1aSRrsK
The antidote to everything that's been shoved down your throat this week, a three and a half minute reminder that music isn't about girl power and a constant refrain of superiority but something that penetrates our souls, that sticks to us like velcro and makes us feel just a bit less alone in a universe of winners where they keep moving the goalposts and we're not sure what the rules are.
Do you want to be rich, famous, happy?
Do you just want to put food on the table?
I'm not even sure what America's values are anymore, and I'm flummoxed as to my goals. Everything's broken down into dollars and cents and the winners keep telling us they're the job creators and without them we'd be nothing and we've got an underclass of people who believe without any training they deserve our attention and I end up feeling a party of one, thrilled to watch the Super Bowl just so I can get in on the national conversation.
And what is that conversation?
Flea didn't play his bass?
A friend of mine is one of the biggest production managers in the touring business. He lives for rock and roll. But he'd never let his acts play live at the Super Bowl, because there's just too much that can go wrong. It's the NFL's venue, not yours, and you could hit the stage to a hundred million people and blow your career overnight.
And then we've got the inane trumpeting of a 164% increase in sales of Bruno Mars's "Unorthodox Jukebox," when the details reveal that sales only increased by 25k and that's positively pitiful considering the audience that was watching.
But it's still too early.
But it's not too early to put a fork in the sales model, to admit that streaming has already triumphed.
But streaming promulgates a completely new model, one wherein what is listened to wins as opposed to what is sold. SoundScan is all about what's new, they force the oldies on to the catalog chart when some people are still discovering them. Whereas Spotify's chart is not manipulated, and the truth is Mr. Mars is winning there too, his album is number 3, right behind Lorde's and "Frozen," and that's how it should be, right? Mr. Mars is an entertainer, Lorde is the voice of a generation, today anyway. And "Frozen" is a phenomenon.
And Bruno's not doing badly on the Spotify singles chart either.
And that's just the point. No one everybody knows the name of is doing poorly today. Whether it be the Eagles making triple digit millions on the road or Rihanna, Katy Perry, Bruno Mars or Lorde. The truth is there's more money to be made in music than ever before. Sure, right now recorded music revenue is down, but there's a plethora of sponsorship dollars and sync fees that never previously existed, never mind inflated touring revenue. We live in a winner take all world, and the household names are triumphing.
And where does this leave us?
Lonely.
And frustrated.
Yes, some of you practicing and recording at home will become tomorrow's superstars. Just fewer than ever before. Or should I say, we'll have stars and troubadours, literally, people who put their guitars in the trunk and drive from town to town to play clubs. The middle class of artists is being eviscerated as I write this, it's a scary world, don't shoot the messenger.
But I have hope. Because Al Kooper turned me on to London Grammar.
Now let's be clear. They're not completely unknown. They've got a label in the U.K., they're signed to Columbia in the States, they've had significant success Down Under.
But I'd never heard of them.
And they're good.
But Mr. Kooper is one of my filters. And every week he sends out an e-mail of ten tracks and every other week or so I hear something that tickles my fancy, like "Hey Now," the final track in his latest column: http://bit.ly/1fTn9vA
Once upon a time I had a Sunday night show at a Triple-A station in Santa Fe. Didn't last long, flying in every weekend, but one benefit is an album I discovered via a commercial on said station, Air's "Moon Safari," I only needed to hear "All I Need" once to get it.
And I only had to hear a few seconds of London Grammar's "Hey Now" to get it.
And the point is they've got a similar feel, ethereal.
And isn't it interesting this music never comes from America, where everybody is shooting for the stars and ignoring the earth at their feet. It's when you look inside and reveal your inner truth, your humanity, that we can truly relate, that you gain success.
And what makes "Hey Now" so great is the feel. Like it's two a.m. and you're sitting in the dark trying to decide whether you're dissatisfied or happy.
That's the way you succeed in art. Not by imitation, but by going off in your own personal direction. Not that London Grammar are plowing totally new ground, it's just that they're not employing Max Martin and Dr. Luke to climb the Top Forty chart, the only one that means anything anymore when it comes to radio. If you can envision "Hey Now" on Top Forty, you live on MARS!
And "Hey Now" is not the only good track on London Grammar's album "If You Wait," but a quick sampling will let you know whether you want to dig deeper, whether you need more.
And I expect to be drawn and quartered by the punks, shrugged off by the hitmakers, but once upon a time it was all right to like multiple kinds of music.
So broaden your horizons.
Or don't.
Either you need "Hey Now" or you don't.
I do.
London Grammar "If You Wait": http://spoti.fi/N5toDk
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YouTube: http://bit.ly/1aSRrsK
The antidote to everything that's been shoved down your throat this week, a three and a half minute reminder that music isn't about girl power and a constant refrain of superiority but something that penetrates our souls, that sticks to us like velcro and makes us feel just a bit less alone in a universe of winners where they keep moving the goalposts and we're not sure what the rules are.
Do you want to be rich, famous, happy?
Do you just want to put food on the table?
I'm not even sure what America's values are anymore, and I'm flummoxed as to my goals. Everything's broken down into dollars and cents and the winners keep telling us they're the job creators and without them we'd be nothing and we've got an underclass of people who believe without any training they deserve our attention and I end up feeling a party of one, thrilled to watch the Super Bowl just so I can get in on the national conversation.
And what is that conversation?
Flea didn't play his bass?
A friend of mine is one of the biggest production managers in the touring business. He lives for rock and roll. But he'd never let his acts play live at the Super Bowl, because there's just too much that can go wrong. It's the NFL's venue, not yours, and you could hit the stage to a hundred million people and blow your career overnight.
And then we've got the inane trumpeting of a 164% increase in sales of Bruno Mars's "Unorthodox Jukebox," when the details reveal that sales only increased by 25k and that's positively pitiful considering the audience that was watching.
But it's still too early.
But it's not too early to put a fork in the sales model, to admit that streaming has already triumphed.
But streaming promulgates a completely new model, one wherein what is listened to wins as opposed to what is sold. SoundScan is all about what's new, they force the oldies on to the catalog chart when some people are still discovering them. Whereas Spotify's chart is not manipulated, and the truth is Mr. Mars is winning there too, his album is number 3, right behind Lorde's and "Frozen," and that's how it should be, right? Mr. Mars is an entertainer, Lorde is the voice of a generation, today anyway. And "Frozen" is a phenomenon.
And Bruno's not doing badly on the Spotify singles chart either.
And that's just the point. No one everybody knows the name of is doing poorly today. Whether it be the Eagles making triple digit millions on the road or Rihanna, Katy Perry, Bruno Mars or Lorde. The truth is there's more money to be made in music than ever before. Sure, right now recorded music revenue is down, but there's a plethora of sponsorship dollars and sync fees that never previously existed, never mind inflated touring revenue. We live in a winner take all world, and the household names are triumphing.
And where does this leave us?
Lonely.
And frustrated.
Yes, some of you practicing and recording at home will become tomorrow's superstars. Just fewer than ever before. Or should I say, we'll have stars and troubadours, literally, people who put their guitars in the trunk and drive from town to town to play clubs. The middle class of artists is being eviscerated as I write this, it's a scary world, don't shoot the messenger.
But I have hope. Because Al Kooper turned me on to London Grammar.
Now let's be clear. They're not completely unknown. They've got a label in the U.K., they're signed to Columbia in the States, they've had significant success Down Under.
But I'd never heard of them.
And they're good.
But Mr. Kooper is one of my filters. And every week he sends out an e-mail of ten tracks and every other week or so I hear something that tickles my fancy, like "Hey Now," the final track in his latest column: http://bit.ly/1fTn9vA
Once upon a time I had a Sunday night show at a Triple-A station in Santa Fe. Didn't last long, flying in every weekend, but one benefit is an album I discovered via a commercial on said station, Air's "Moon Safari," I only needed to hear "All I Need" once to get it.
And I only had to hear a few seconds of London Grammar's "Hey Now" to get it.
And the point is they've got a similar feel, ethereal.
And isn't it interesting this music never comes from America, where everybody is shooting for the stars and ignoring the earth at their feet. It's when you look inside and reveal your inner truth, your humanity, that we can truly relate, that you gain success.
And what makes "Hey Now" so great is the feel. Like it's two a.m. and you're sitting in the dark trying to decide whether you're dissatisfied or happy.
That's the way you succeed in art. Not by imitation, but by going off in your own personal direction. Not that London Grammar are plowing totally new ground, it's just that they're not employing Max Martin and Dr. Luke to climb the Top Forty chart, the only one that means anything anymore when it comes to radio. If you can envision "Hey Now" on Top Forty, you live on MARS!
And "Hey Now" is not the only good track on London Grammar's album "If You Wait," but a quick sampling will let you know whether you want to dig deeper, whether you need more.
And I expect to be drawn and quartered by the punks, shrugged off by the hitmakers, but once upon a time it was all right to like multiple kinds of music.
So broaden your horizons.
Or don't.
Either you need "Hey Now" or you don't.
I do.
London Grammar "If You Wait": http://spoti.fi/N5toDk
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Sunday, 2 February 2014
The Super Bowl
And the winner is...
SARAH McLACHLAN!
Who proved Canadians have a sense of humor about themselves, while Americans are famously pompous, kind of like Bob Dylan, who had one of the best commercials, but didn't get the message that Chrysler is owned by Fiat, an Italian automobile maker.
The ads got better as the game got worse. I even appreciated the little girl lassoing the Doritos. But the first half was littered with the work of alcohol and car companies, who believe being bombastic is better than being innovative, or sensitive.
Even Bruce Willis was sensitive.
And what kind of crazy world do we live in where Microsoft has a good commercial?
It wasn't about the game. It was about the gathering of the tribes.
Super Bowl Sunday is the one day of the year when blue and red, old and young, everybody in America tunes in to the same damn program.
That's the story of the last ten years, our descent into a Tower of Babel society, wherein what's important to me is unknown by you.
But it turns out that despite tomes like "The Long Tail" it doesn't feel good to be in the niche, we all want to be in the mainstream.
Then again, watching this production I didn't find anything for myself, with my sixties values wherein I question authority and am suspicious of the establishment. Now musicians are dying to become part of the establishment. Look at all of them who prostituted themselves for cash, appearing at one Super Bowl bash after another, as if how much money you make is more important than what you believe in.
And I've got no idea what Bruno Mars believes in. He's pure entertainment.
But he performed quite well. Got to give him props for starting off with a drum solo. He single-handedly stripped the ball from the classic rockers who've dominated halftime ever since Nipplegate. Mars could play, sing and dance. And I'm sure it was exquisite at MetLife Stadium...at home, not so much. It's a rare musician who can make music work on television. Prince did it. U2 did a good job. But the truth is music is something you feel, and television is two-dimensional, after all, they do call it the FLAT SCREEN! And yes, back in the sixties, when the Super Bowl was invented, the au courant rock stars were not invited, but they probably wouldn't have appeared. Football??
But now we live in a homogeneous society where it's every man for himself. Like rats in a cage we try to climb the greased pole. And even though the aforementioned Mr. Dylan sang that we've all got to serve somebody, it turns out most of us are serving those with the bread. We're a country of Olivers, can we just have a little bit more?
And the right team won. The bastards known as the Seattle Seahawks. Who brought their posse, the so-called "12th Man," and played so hard that all Broncos were issued switchblades and Uzis on their way out of the dressing room.
Just kidding, of course. But we live in a brutal society. And the Seahawks are a brutal team. Who never entertained the concept of defeat. They beat the Broncos so bad, it's a metaphor for our nation's income inequality, the haves and the have-nots. Because the Broncos beat their AFC foes the Patriots, we thought they were up to the task. But it turns out the 49ers would have kicked their asses too. Because anybody could see the Broncos had an inferior defense. And no matter how well Peyton Manning may throw...an offense without a defense is like a singer without a tune...i.e. nowhere.
So what else did we learn?
That Bruno Mars did not need the Chili Peppers. That if you've got the goods, scuttlebutt is irrelevant. In other words, an outsider or unknown can triumph, but only if he's spectacular, a ten on a ten scale. Then again, no one told the sports and the business press that Mr. Mars was already a star in the music world.
That New York is the epicenter of the nation and every Super Bowl should be played in the city, that is New Jersey, hereafter. There's never been as much press, as much attention to the game as this year. Because it was in media central, amongst the most cutthroat of our citizens. I don't want to go, but it's fun to observe the spectacle.
That Jerry Seinfeld is nothing without Larry David. Sure, his spot was better than most, but it didn't have that twisted I'm an outsider feeling that "Seinfeld" with David possessed. Jerry's just too self-satisfied for me to cotton to him anymore. The man without problems who knows everything about parenting...eek. However Jason Alexander was excellent!
That the best band on the telecast was the Muppets. Turns out truth on TV is radiated by puppets and cartoons, everybody else pulls their punches.
And the big loser was Philip Seymour Hoffman. Who had the bad luck to O.D. on the day of the biggest sporting event of the year, and was therefore bumped from the front page.
But one thing you've got to say about Hoffman is he always swung for the fences, even in semi-incoherent films like "The Master." He was our Lester Bangs. And although he won an Oscar for "Capote," it was his work in small films like "The Savages" that endeared him to audiences. Because underneath it all, Philip Seymour Hoffman was a regular schlub, like the rest of us. He was real, unlike Kim Kardashian and the rest of the plastic surgery patrol.
That's right, as young men shorten their lives on the gridiron, a press scared of extinction keeps trumpeting the efforts of no-talents and we all sit at home flummoxed, wondering whether to protest, join in or give up. We're angry, but we're not sure we can win, so too often we turn to drugs. Which have been glamorized for no reason.
Is that how bad your life is, that you want to escape?
That's the essence of intoxicants. And we all live so close to that line, and so far from satisfaction.
So, so long Peyton Manning! You're not really gonna come back next year are you, there's no way you can win.
So long New York City, where the squeegee men have returned and the artists have been squeezed out. The Super Bowl is emblematic of the metropolis, all shiny, but with a dangerous underbelly, where cash rules and if you ain't got it, we're not interested.
And so long Philip Seymour Hoffman. You didn't even get to see the game!
P.S. Featuring Ellen DeGeneres in an ad for Beats Music is like featuring Harvey Fierstein in an ad for the NFL. Not everybody can sing and not everybody can play football. Let's stop lionizing the wannabes and focus on the true talents. To employ Ms. DeGeneres to hawk Beats is to eviscerate all the cool from music, and without cool, we've got nothing... Wasn't that the essence of Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Johnny Rotten, Kurt Cobain... We want stars who march to the beat of their own drummer, like Joni Mitchell and Amy Winehouse, not corporate tools working on Jimmy's farm.
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SARAH McLACHLAN!
Who proved Canadians have a sense of humor about themselves, while Americans are famously pompous, kind of like Bob Dylan, who had one of the best commercials, but didn't get the message that Chrysler is owned by Fiat, an Italian automobile maker.
The ads got better as the game got worse. I even appreciated the little girl lassoing the Doritos. But the first half was littered with the work of alcohol and car companies, who believe being bombastic is better than being innovative, or sensitive.
Even Bruce Willis was sensitive.
And what kind of crazy world do we live in where Microsoft has a good commercial?
It wasn't about the game. It was about the gathering of the tribes.
Super Bowl Sunday is the one day of the year when blue and red, old and young, everybody in America tunes in to the same damn program.
That's the story of the last ten years, our descent into a Tower of Babel society, wherein what's important to me is unknown by you.
But it turns out that despite tomes like "The Long Tail" it doesn't feel good to be in the niche, we all want to be in the mainstream.
Then again, watching this production I didn't find anything for myself, with my sixties values wherein I question authority and am suspicious of the establishment. Now musicians are dying to become part of the establishment. Look at all of them who prostituted themselves for cash, appearing at one Super Bowl bash after another, as if how much money you make is more important than what you believe in.
And I've got no idea what Bruno Mars believes in. He's pure entertainment.
But he performed quite well. Got to give him props for starting off with a drum solo. He single-handedly stripped the ball from the classic rockers who've dominated halftime ever since Nipplegate. Mars could play, sing and dance. And I'm sure it was exquisite at MetLife Stadium...at home, not so much. It's a rare musician who can make music work on television. Prince did it. U2 did a good job. But the truth is music is something you feel, and television is two-dimensional, after all, they do call it the FLAT SCREEN! And yes, back in the sixties, when the Super Bowl was invented, the au courant rock stars were not invited, but they probably wouldn't have appeared. Football??
But now we live in a homogeneous society where it's every man for himself. Like rats in a cage we try to climb the greased pole. And even though the aforementioned Mr. Dylan sang that we've all got to serve somebody, it turns out most of us are serving those with the bread. We're a country of Olivers, can we just have a little bit more?
And the right team won. The bastards known as the Seattle Seahawks. Who brought their posse, the so-called "12th Man," and played so hard that all Broncos were issued switchblades and Uzis on their way out of the dressing room.
Just kidding, of course. But we live in a brutal society. And the Seahawks are a brutal team. Who never entertained the concept of defeat. They beat the Broncos so bad, it's a metaphor for our nation's income inequality, the haves and the have-nots. Because the Broncos beat their AFC foes the Patriots, we thought they were up to the task. But it turns out the 49ers would have kicked their asses too. Because anybody could see the Broncos had an inferior defense. And no matter how well Peyton Manning may throw...an offense without a defense is like a singer without a tune...i.e. nowhere.
So what else did we learn?
That Bruno Mars did not need the Chili Peppers. That if you've got the goods, scuttlebutt is irrelevant. In other words, an outsider or unknown can triumph, but only if he's spectacular, a ten on a ten scale. Then again, no one told the sports and the business press that Mr. Mars was already a star in the music world.
That New York is the epicenter of the nation and every Super Bowl should be played in the city, that is New Jersey, hereafter. There's never been as much press, as much attention to the game as this year. Because it was in media central, amongst the most cutthroat of our citizens. I don't want to go, but it's fun to observe the spectacle.
That Jerry Seinfeld is nothing without Larry David. Sure, his spot was better than most, but it didn't have that twisted I'm an outsider feeling that "Seinfeld" with David possessed. Jerry's just too self-satisfied for me to cotton to him anymore. The man without problems who knows everything about parenting...eek. However Jason Alexander was excellent!
That the best band on the telecast was the Muppets. Turns out truth on TV is radiated by puppets and cartoons, everybody else pulls their punches.
And the big loser was Philip Seymour Hoffman. Who had the bad luck to O.D. on the day of the biggest sporting event of the year, and was therefore bumped from the front page.
But one thing you've got to say about Hoffman is he always swung for the fences, even in semi-incoherent films like "The Master." He was our Lester Bangs. And although he won an Oscar for "Capote," it was his work in small films like "The Savages" that endeared him to audiences. Because underneath it all, Philip Seymour Hoffman was a regular schlub, like the rest of us. He was real, unlike Kim Kardashian and the rest of the plastic surgery patrol.
That's right, as young men shorten their lives on the gridiron, a press scared of extinction keeps trumpeting the efforts of no-talents and we all sit at home flummoxed, wondering whether to protest, join in or give up. We're angry, but we're not sure we can win, so too often we turn to drugs. Which have been glamorized for no reason.
Is that how bad your life is, that you want to escape?
That's the essence of intoxicants. And we all live so close to that line, and so far from satisfaction.
So, so long Peyton Manning! You're not really gonna come back next year are you, there's no way you can win.
So long New York City, where the squeegee men have returned and the artists have been squeezed out. The Super Bowl is emblematic of the metropolis, all shiny, but with a dangerous underbelly, where cash rules and if you ain't got it, we're not interested.
And so long Philip Seymour Hoffman. You didn't even get to see the game!
P.S. Featuring Ellen DeGeneres in an ad for Beats Music is like featuring Harvey Fierstein in an ad for the NFL. Not everybody can sing and not everybody can play football. Let's stop lionizing the wannabes and focus on the true talents. To employ Ms. DeGeneres to hawk Beats is to eviscerate all the cool from music, and without cool, we've got nothing... Wasn't that the essence of Elvis Presley, John Lennon, Johnny Rotten, Kurt Cobain... We want stars who march to the beat of their own drummer, like Joni Mitchell and Amy Winehouse, not corporate tools working on Jimmy's farm.
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