Toronto
It’s snowing!
I think they should call it INACCUWEATHER! Yup, that’s the weather service that is accessible online, but also feeds the widget on your Mac as well as giving you the weather on your iPhone and iPod Touch. Like the Monkees, I used to be a believer, but I’ve now seen Accuweather be inaccurate a bunch of times. It’s snowing like it does in Utah, big frosty flakes, the kind that makes you want to be a tiger and hit the slopes. Alas, I’m stuck here in the flatlands.
Was checking my BlackBerry at LAX, getting on the plane yesterday, and I see a story by Ethan Smith in the "Wall Street Journal" about acts scalping their own tickets. Let the games begin. No one would give a quote… That’s the mark of a true weasel, when you won’t even confront your accusers. I mean I expect it of Celine Dion, can she even UNDERSTAND scalping? But Mr. Nice Guy, Jon Bon Jovi… You’ve been ripping off your fans for years, all in the name of "sell-out" shows and high grosses. Glad the wool’s been pulled from the public’s eyes. You’re just another money hungry has-been, living on the fruits of a twenty year old album made with a dead genius. Yes, if you think Bon Jovi has done anything great since "Slippery When Wet", you’re probably a fan club member…
Anyway, irrelevant of whether Ticketmaster merges with Live Nation, the smoke has cleared. The real guilty party is the acts. Read the story here:
Flight was uneventful, except for the woman dressed in a religious get-up who stuck her smelly feet right up next to me. I remember my father putting on a shirt and tie to fly, I’m stunned people today even wear shoes on the plane! And when this woman got up, there were enough crumbs on the carpet to provide evidence a three year old had been present. But she was not, the babies were in the row in front.
And rushing to immigration, I wasn’t stopped by the officer after stating I was going to Canadian Music Week. Last year, they took me into a special room and investigated further. But when I was just about to be set free, into the great wide open to be whisked away by my buddy Jake Gold, at the final collection depot, where they stack the immigration cards, I was directed to the Group W bench.
Do you remember the Group W bench? It’s where Arlo Guthrie had to go for littering. My crime? I brought food to Canada. Jerky and trail mix in case I needed sustenance for a day of panels. I even checked online to see if it was legal. Stunningly, it was. But then I made the mistake of noting on the immigration card that I was importing this food. Which the first level of security said was fine. But now I was shuttled to a dark hall, full of human beings that God-fearing people in the U.S.A. could only see as terrorists. Yes, I was the only white person in the bunch. Talk about racial profiling… The gestapo were ripping apart suitcases. Each interview was not perfunctory. I’m stunned I’m still not in line.
And I’m getting nervous, even though I think I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m on their turf now. Is anybody truly innocent? Would they find…soap in my baggage? I must be breaking the law somehow!
And I’m getting more nervous. And I decide to be proactive. Which goes against my father’s policy, wherein you lay down and let yourself get stomped by authority. I told the customs officer I was there for jerky and trail mix. I showed it to her before she could even ask me about it. And I sailed right through. I felt like I’d been sprung from Rikers, I had a newfound sense of freedom as I entered the great hall of human beings looking for their loved ones.
But my plane had been early and Jake was circling. Where to meet him?
He told me to tell him what POLE I was at! Yes, they number the poles outside the terminal, so people know where to pick you up. They say the United States is the greatest country in the world, but if people just left it, they’d realize it isn’t perfect, that the rest of the world isn’t an envious backwater. Genius idea. Cost? A few buckets of paint.
We eventually ended up at the Manager’s Forum dinner honoring Ray Danniels, who guides the career of Rush. They say Rush gets no respect, that the mainstream press doesn’t cover the threesome and it’s not in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. IT DOESN’T MATTER! I get more e-mail about Rush than almost any other act. People telling me about their exploits, how Neil Peart is the best drummer in the world. It’s all about fans, and Rush has them. And Geddy was there, about seven feet away. Do you still get a rush when you’re in the vicinity of rock stars? I do. With his granny glasses, wisp of hair on his chin and that seen it all, but humorous expression, it was unmistakably the guy who knows today’s Tom Sawyer. Cool!
And Ray financed the act’s first album, which got picked up by WMMS in Cleveland. And then the band broke. Randy Lennox joked that the 5,000 copies sold independently was once again a significant figure. Got a laugh. But when it was lamented that the old system was broken, I laughed. Good riddance! To major labels and radio! A great band like Rush can break without them. But there are very few great bands, and the road is longer, a heavier slog than ever before.
