When I first got the e-mail about the "Whole Lotta Love" roller coaster, I figured that money knew no bounds, that Jimmy and his band of robber barons couldn’t say no. Then I found out it was part of a rock and roll THEME PARK!

Here’s the original article: Led Zeppelin–The Heart Attack

Yup, that’s what I think of when I hear "Whole Lotta Love", spinning upside down on some ride. Then again, maybe the feeling’s synonymous with going to a gig in the seventies, so fucked up that the world is spinning ’round!

But click to go to the Hard Rock Park site… As I was wandering around the site, I had to ask myself… Was this an April Fool’s joke?

But a Google search told me it was not.

Is it the end of the world as we know it? Or is it only rock and roll. Probably somewhere in between.

The business has become akin to hedge funds. As long as money is being made, THEY CAN’T BE CRITICIZED! It’s like America’s on some mutated capitalist frenzy. Where not only greed is good, but those on top feel entitled to rip off those on the bottom, and there’s no fluidity to society. I mean the Hard Rock chain started off selling HAMBURGERS! And when it went to Vegas… Well, that whole city is ersatz. But has our business just devolved to one of commerce, where the music is secondary, no more than the oil thrown in the engine?

And you wonder why the music sphere is in such shit shape.

Oh, don’t tell me about commerce through the ages… Don’t tell me I don’t like money. Step the fuck back and contemplate this. Why did you love music to begin with? Was it because you were in love with the promoters? Or were you enamored of Clive Davis? Or, did it have something to do with the acts themselves, that they were renegades, doing it their own way. Neil Young still gets away with it, he’s not singing for Pepsi, not shilling for Bud, BUT EVERYBODY ELSE IS!

Sure, the younger generation likes money. That’s the Silicon Valley credo, making bucks. Getting rich by giving value. But is that the music paradigm?

Now maybe the music scene is just reflective of our country in general. Long past its peak. In an endless downward spiral. It’s not the sixties anymore, not even the seventies. Music is not king. Can it ever be again? Not if it has to fit into this paradigm.

Maybe there shouldn’t have been a Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Not even an Experience Music Project. Maybe we had to leave money on the table. But, that’s anathema to the custodians of the business. Who are doing a shit job. They fucked up the value of music by refusing to license Napster, they’re screwing the fans with high ticket prices without built-in fees, and they’re fucking up the music itself, by whoring it out to anybody with a dollar.

I’m gonna tell you that Hard Rock Park looks like fun. But it’s got nothing to do with the rock and roll that hooked me. Played by denizens of dreary England out to rape and pillage, get drunk and get laid. Sure, the money was appealing to those of us on the street. Not because the acts made so much, but because it was JUST REWARD! It was a middle finger to the man, that these uneducated people who couldn’t hold down a regular job were making MILLIONS!

But now wannabes have read Don Passman’s book. They’re conversant in both contracts and marketing. They’re about the sell. And music is suffering as a result.

But maybe there’s hope. Because if the nitwits who created the Website for Hard Rock Park are in charge, it leaves the field WIDE OPEN for a younger generation conversant with the Web. Who sold the company this ridiculous Flash-inundated contraption? That doesn’t allow you to go where you want instantly. That leaves you so frustrated you want to throw a beer at a security guard.

Go to the gig at this theme park. But you won’t feel the sweat, the pulse of rock and roll. That happens indoors. Usually in a place with no seats and oftentimes no permanent sound system. It’s off the grid. It’s where those who really care go to discover, to be part of something.

Buy your souvenirs at Hard Rock Park, but they won’t compete with my memories. Of hearing music so innovative, so different, so IRRESISTIBLE that I slept with my transistor under my bed and spent all my cash on records. Today, music is an afterthought, much less important than your cell phone. Music was the tribal drum. Now it’s just another cash generator.