Loverboy lead guitarist, key songwriter and co-producer.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/paul-dean/id1316200737?i=1000652847981

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/9ff4fb19-54d4-41ae-ae7a-8a6f8d3dafa8/episodes/ca144f9f-a062-4469-8dcb-5d456940dfc7/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast-paul-dean

Yes, quite the contrast to Coachella, then again back in the day the audience was not the show. Did you hear they referred to the desert confab as the “Influencer Olympics”? That’s how much the game has changed. The acts are secondary to the experience. The penumbra trumps the music…i.e. the food and lifestyle events off the concert grounds. But back in the day…

Peter Frampton was just another struggling artist trying to make it until he surprisingly blew up with “Frampton Comes Alive” and then destroyed his career with “I’m In You” and the “Sgt. Pepper” movie and has been slowly clawing his way back to credibility ever since. The screen showed footage of Frampton walking with his school chum Bowie while he and his son belted out “Rebel Rebel” and not only did the song sound better decades removed, Bowie oozed a charisma we rarely see in our artists today. Bowie was the whole package: music, image and myth. Furthermore, Bowie kept on growing while so many of his contemporaries became calcified. But that was back before not only politics became tribal, but music too. I LISTEN TO MY FAVORITE AND YOU SUCK BECAUSE YOU DO NOT SUPPORT THEM! David Bowie would have laughed at blind belief. Then again, the intellectual component of music has left the building, while those outside the building keep complaining about their streaming royalties, or to be explicit, their lack thereof.

So it was raining. Before the show the sound system played Albert Hammond’s classic hit, and the audience sang along, “It never rains in Southern California”…

Now it used to be summer venues were just that, they started around Memorial Day and faded out not long after Labor Day. But money abhors a vacuum, and now in SoCal these open air venues…go from March to November. Meaning…the weather might just be bad.

To tell you the truth, I wasn’t going to go. But Rena convinced me the show would play and it wouldn’t be so bad. So I drove over.

And was stunned how many other people made it. Really, in a city where people stay off the roads when it rains, I figured they’d swallow the ticket price. But no, it seemed like most of the people who bought tickets showed up. And let’s be clear, this was not the young ‘uns, these were people who might get pneumonia and die, but they suited up and went to the gig, the way they have for decades. That’s how much the music means to them.

And sure, “Baby, I Love Your Way” and “Show Me the Way” got big ovations, but they were not the only ones. The standing O for the extended “(I’ll Give You) Money” was the longest.

Now this is the “Never Ever Say Never Tour.” As in Frampton played his final shows, yet here he is again.

But not like his classic rock contemporaries… My favorite is the legendary act that was on its final tour with a new album only a few months away. Needless to say, they’re still on the road, and that was a decade ago!

But if you want to see Peter Frampton, go now, because it won’t be long before you won’t be able to.

At the end of the show Peter spoke to the audience. Saying to be kind, you never know what is going on in people’s lives, but also that he was going to fight his disease. As someone with a disease… Your body doesn’t know you’re fighting it, it’s been proven attitude is an almost irrelevant factor. The story with these serious health problems is you surrender. And you make peace with it. It’s those that surround you that can’t get over it.

So, Peter is helped on to the stage, using a cane to boot. You get it right from the very start, Frampton is not lying, he’s hurting. Well, physically, but not in attitude. One of the great things about a Frampton show is his sense of humor, evidenced throughout the gig. There’s a casualness that was the antithesis of rock shows back in the seventies, then again, many of those acts haven’t survived, or can’t go on the road because no one wants to see them.

So, Frampton sits. As does his entire band. Which shifts the experience. Normally, an act performs. Jumps around the stage, tries to get you in the mood to feel the music and have a good time. There was none of this Saturday night. It was just the music, and that added gravitas.

Yes, just the music. No ringers off stage, no backing tracks, it was the same as it ever was, and that was refreshing. Peter and a band. Another guitarist, a bass player, a keyboard player and a drummer. I’d say it wasn’t that far removed from the garage, but in truth garage bands are never as tight.

So Frampton played a bunch of numbers in rapid succession right off the bat without speaking to the audience, which made you feel like he still had it. It wasn’t an assault, and it wasn’t exactly a freight train, it was just a band firing on all cylinders, not needing acknowledgement to do so.

Now when Peter played “Shine On”…

It’s on the live album, but this was closer to the original Humble Pie version, with the explosive guitar, with a strut underneath. This wasn’t light, but it was catchy, and I guess that’s Frampton’s secret sauce. There are a ton of hot guitar players out there, but very few can write, and that’s what Frampton can do, write songs. Will his compositions be remembered a century from now? Probably not. Then again, other than the Beatles I don’t think anything will be popular by then. This was our music, for our time, and it turns out it was only for us. Then again, that was enough.

But that is what Frampton is selling, his guitar prowess. It’s actually pretty amazing. Since he’s sitting down, that’s what you focus on. And he can nail all that picking from the records. And he can eke out notes and tones… That’s what you’re thinking sitting there, that this is one hot guitarist, who has his own unique style, who might have been sold as a pretty boy but nothing could be further from the truth. Watching Frampton play you could see why he made it, he’s just that good. Better than most people think. Which is why George Harrison used him, which is why his fellow musicians respect him.

Now in truth it was a great night because Peter played my two favorite songs, “All I Wanna Be (is by your side)” and “I Wanna Go to the Sun.”

Now “All I Wanna Be” is on the live album, but in a truncated, acoustic version. But on Saturday night, this was the album track, from the very first album, “Wind of Change,” and it was astounding, because Peter can make all those sounds, he remembers these songs!

As for “I Wanna Go to the Sun”… The way it starts out quiet and slow and builds… Dynamics, those are the mark of talent. Frampton doesn’t need to blast you into submission. It’s a concert, you’re listening.

But the encores…

Well, it was funny, because Peter didn’t leave the stage, it was too much effort, he joked about it, and then played the concluding numbers after a short break.

“Four Day Creep”? Man, when Frampton played that lick it was hard to keep your body from moving. There’s a boogie, hard rock element which has evaporated from today’s scene, but it was so satisfying back then, direct to your body and heart.

And, of course, “I Don’t Need No Doctor.”

The finale was “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” at this point a Frampton standard, like “Black Hole Sun,” which of course he played too.

No Frampton show is complete without “Do You Feel Like We Do,” that was the number before the encore, and no matter how many times I’ve heard it, both on record and live, after the long journey, when Peter and the band kick it full force once again, it’s still so SATISFYING!

So if you didn’t go…

Well, I was surprised that these were Frampton fans, they clapped for the album tracks, they weren’t just there for the hits.

This was not a picnic, a summer trifle, this was about music. From back when music was everything. Frampton and we in the audience were on the same page, we remembered. And like I said, Frampton can still hit all the notes, but this was a live show of yore, where the music itself had so much energy, referenced the recording yet added more, that we were transported in our own capsule into the stratosphere. Nobody else mattered, there was a direct connection between what was on stage and us, and we were liberated, we cast off our troubles and transcended this world which just seems to bring us down.

That’s the power of music.

But not everybody can do it.

This was not a party. This was not a video. It’s kind of like Max Yasgur said, we all got together for the fun and the music and it was nothing but the fun and the music and that was enough.

Now I advise you to go to these rainy shows with a plastic garbage bag. I dried my seat with some paper towels I got from the bathroom, but I realized if I had a giant garbage bag, I could have cut holes for my arms and been good. Or just laid the thing on the seat.

Now it stopped raining after about fifteen minutes of the show. But it was cold, in the forties.

I was actually prepared for the temperature, I even had gloves with me, but I was not prepared for the elation of the experience, especially after the downer of the rain.

I’d tell you to go to the show, but that’s the thing about us baby boomers, we still do! We may look worse for wear, but we still go, we need to connect with the sound, to who we once were, and there’s a direct thread from back then to now, and these musicians provide it.

Frampton connected on Saturday night. I think he’s finally getting the respect he deserves as a guitar player. But even if you were a casual fan, or were burned out on hearing the hits over and over, I guarantee you if you were there you would have been drawn in.

That’s the power of music, when done right.

And Peter Frampton did it right Saturday night.

It’s a professional business.

Why does everybody think music is run by know-nothings and they can do a better job. Even KKR couldn’t make its publishing foray work.

Then again, once you get the banks involved it’s all about money. And contrary to what Merck says, it’s not about the guaranteed returns on publishing, but getting lucky…usage of tunes, new platforms and long term value growth. This is not a business for Wall Street flippers. There’s nothing you can do to juice copyrights in the short term. If you’re buying to gussy up and sell, you’re delusional.

Then again, interest rates were so low, close to zero, that money was looking for a place to go, and therefore some of it went into songs and when interest rates rose everybody got pissed that songs didn’t grow concomitantly.

Furthermore, despite his career in the music business, Merck really had no expertise in publishing, never mind finance. Ditto at Round Hill. So Concord gets bigger and Primary Wave, run by Larry Mestel, a man with long record company experience, continues to grow and we’re seeing contraction in the sphere instead of growth. Concentration is the game in major music assets. And it’s all about history in the music business, catalog, the old songs have value, because they’re better known than the new songs, they hit in an era when everybody was paying attention…to Top Forty radio, to AOR, to MTV. Which is why you can live on a hit of the past. Living on a hit of now, of the future? A very different game.

There’s still a ton of dough in new music publishing, but you have to pick winners, which is best done after the song gains traction and the writers want a payday/out. This is the game at Kilometre. Interesting that its majordomo, Michael McCarty, has decades of publishing experience.

But the old stuff has raw asset value. It’s the backbone of not only these publishing behemoths, but the three major record labels. Sans their catalogs, they’re not moribund, but they’re bad businesses. You spend all that money on new music with no guaranteed return, furthermore there’s no sure-fire way to make a hit, rather than controlled radio you have the open cesspool of social media, most especially TikTok, wherein the only advantage the major has is its checkbook.

This is why the majors invest in so few acts. They’re looking for insurance. They want to sign what is similar to what is already successful. They don’t want to take big risks. They’re in the music BUSINESS, don’t confuse it with art and changing the culture. That is done by independents, however indies don’t have the back catalog to float them, to keep them alive. This has been the story in Hollywood for decades. If the most successful independent movie studio, Carolco, goes out of business, what are the odds you can be successful?

Carolco depended on hits. They lived and died at the box office. Whereas established studios counted the dollars from licensing their libraries, which is what they’re still doing. Studios keep making fewer pictures, hoping for great success, meanwhile Netflix is all about niches.

That’s how you enter a business and win. By coming up with a new paradigm, from the outside. That is ignored by the usual suspects at first, before their lunch is eaten.

Just like Spotify ate Tower Records.

No one with deep pockets is going into record production, because the numbers look too bad. So you’ve got cottage industry, hustlers, rolling the dice, and most of them have street values, meaning their goal is to build it and sell, not build it and hold.

As for the live business… Did you see how much that Florida investor lost in music festivals like KAABOO? Looks easy. Just find a site, book name talent and… Lose money for a few years even if you’re one of the big boys. And if you gain any traction, you sell out, like Insomniac to Live Nation, like seemingly every standalone festival to Live Nation. The only indie festival still ready to be picked off is Outside Lands, and isn’t it interesting that its proprietor, Another Planet, is run by people who started with Bill Graham.

Music looks easy. You don’t need a degree. Actually, a degree usually works against you. Because it’s more about hustle and edge than what’s in a book.

And unlike Procter & Gamble, you can’t plot a record company’s returns in a constant upward line on a chart. You’re a victim of the vagaries of the system. Some great records never made it. And now not only does a great record not guarantee success, successes often take years to happen.

So it’s the end of an era.

Well, Blackstone’s still in business with Merck, but that’s just temporary, they have tons of college graduates running the numbers, they want to run on feel about as much as today’s baseball teams, which are all managed Moneyball style. Good lunch and b.s. is the basis of entertainment, but not of finance. In finance it’s all about the spreadsheet.

So, just like with Sanctuary, Merck fails again, getting rich in the process. Merck’s skill is sales, someone should hire him to do that, this guy can sell ice to Inuits, a necessary skill, but one quite different from vision and management.

So this publishing craze is at about its end. Big money has moved on.

And those who sold…

How does it feel to see your songs sold again? How does it feel to have no relationship with those who own and manage your songs? How does it feel to be on your own, like a complete unknown to those who own your assets.

There is a future in the music business, but it’s for lifers. And to stay in the music business is nearly impossible. If someone has survived and thrived respect their knowledge, it might not be quantifiable, but it’s necessary to run a successful business. The road is littered with wannabes.

And publishing is a great asset if you’re willing to count pennies and wait. Which is why I advise against selling. Sure, Merck paid top buck, might have overpaid in some cases, but in truth there keep being new avenues of compensation created. Isn’t that what Universal’s battle with TikTok is all about, money?

Porn runs the internet, but music comes second. Music is needed all over the web, new sites have to license. Music is all about creating tolls, and it’s doing a good job of it.

The more tolls, the more money. I have yet to meet an artist who feels good about having sold their catalog. Give it a few years and ask them. Hell, almost all of them are bad with money, unlike the bankers, they get a sum and blow it, not knowing how to manage it.

So my advice here is to stay in your own lane. And if something looks easy, ripe for picking… Remember, Guy Hands couldn’t make EMI work either!

We’re here for a hundredth birthday concert for Henry Mancini.

L’Aquila is somewhere between one and two hours from Rome, depending on the traffic. It’s in the Apennine mountains. (You remember them from elementary school, right? Well, I remembered they were in Italy, but I couldn’t have picked them out on a map, nor did I know they were so close to Rome.) It’s a bit over two thousand feet high and feels like it, it’s in the fifties today, and supposed to go down to almost freezing tonight. If it weren’t for the long days, I’d think winter is coming.

Actually, Hank’s birthday was yesterday. We celebrated with dinner in the hotel, in a restaurant with multiple cases of aged beef wherein you can see your dinner before it is cooked. Actually, I was the only one who had steak, from the local cow, as opposed to one from Russia, Ireland or Japan or even America, all of which were in the case. And they served this round bread that was a cross between naan and pizza and it was very good.

But speaking of the food…

I just have to testify about the bread. It’ll crack a tooth, I tell you. Which is the crusty exterior you want, which Americans won’t tolerate. That’s the way bagels used to be, now they’ve got the consistency of Wonder Bread. Furthermore, everywhere you go in America, except for a few restaurants, the bread in the basket they serve with dinner is soft, basically bland, empty calories. But at lunch today, the bread might have looked pedestrian, but the crust reminded me of my youth, back when you bought rye bread at the local bakery, when they sliced it upon order.

So the key is not only making people aware it’s Henry Mancini’s hundredth birthday, but that they consume the music.

Now if you’re my age, everybody knows Henry Mancini. But over the past week I quizzed two twentysomethings and got blank stares in response. Then I started to sing “Pink Panther” and their eyes immediately lit up. But still, it’s such a challenge crossing old acts over to younger generations, attaching the composer to the song. The family switched to Primary Wave to quarterback this centenary celebration, we’ll see how it works out.

Anyway, the conservatory in L’Aquila reached out, they were doing four concerts, would we come?

Well, here we are.

Now the head of the conservatory’s passion is prog rock, I kid you not. Unfortunately, he doesn’t speak English so well, but I did get him to say his favorite prog rock keyboard player was Rick Wakeman.

And the conductor of the program… He’s not that great with English either. But Daniela studied at the University of Chicago, she’s the conservatory’s musicologist. And she’s a fount of information. They say you learn most when you hang with the locals…that is true. Although I still wish I spoke Italian. You know, like Jackie Kennedy, that’s what we heard when JFK was president, before she was married to Onassis, when her image was at its peak, that she spoke six, or was it seven languages. You have no idea of the hope JFK’s election generated. A turning point, a young man to lead us into the sixties. We thought we had something similar with Obama but he punted, for fear of looking like the angry black man. Biden is standing up to the status quo more than Barack, then again, Biden was vice president for eight years and saw firsthand that you can’t negotiate with the unreasonable.

I had to ask Daniela about “Gomorrah.” Of course she’d seen it, and “Suburra” too (although it took a while for her to understand what show I was talking about, I didn’t have the accent right). Streaming television is now the universal language.

So after waking up we went to the Fountain of 99 Spouts. Built in the 1200s. No one knows where the water comes from, supposedly they killed the architect and buried him under the fountain to preserve the secret.

And then we went to the local museum.

Most of the art was religious, but it all made me feel insignificant. That and the Forum back in Rome. You’re born and you feel so important, believing you matter, that you’re going to put a dent in the universe. Meanwhile, almost no one achieves this. And frequently those who are remembered were overlooked during their lifetime. But you see the antiquities and you realize nothing has changed over the years. Oh, of course travel is much speedier, and health care is much better, but everybody thinks they’re important when they’re alive, that the era within which they’re living is the most significant. I don’t know, it’s weird. Museums are sanctuaries, where the trappings of regular society don’t count. How rich you are, what kind of car you drive… You leave those at the door at the museum. It’s just you and your senses. Your thoughts start to percolate. Today money triumphs, but not at the museum. It’s a great correction.

So we’ll be back in Rome, but for less than two days. The whole trip is barely a week.

And L’Aquila is not a tourist town. Although there are ski areas in the mountains, one where Pope John Paul II used to surreptitiously ski. And there is still snow on the peaks. And every car I’ve been in so far has had a stick shift. Nearly extinct in the U.S., from Skodas to Volvos, everybody’s rowing through the gears here.

And oh, on the conservatory stage, I saw this Fazioli concert grand. I figured they couldn’t afford a Steinway. But it turns out Fazioli is usually more expensive, and their concert grand is even bigger, and you learn something every day.

That’s the name of the game.

“Al Conservatorio dell’Aquila parte l’omaggio a Henry Mancini”: https://shorturl.at/houxX