ROLLING STONE

"You’re not on the list."

You can’t get into a building in New York.  Well, at least it appears I can’t.  I know they take your picture, I know since 9/11 security is tight, but if I’m not sweating and agitated, if I’m not darting my eyes from side to side, do you really think I’m carrying a bomb and am gonna blow the edifice up?

The clerk said he’d call up.  He handed the phone to me.  A dead line.  Oh, it rang for a while, then there was some message about disconnection…

So I had him dial again.  You should have seen the look he gave me.

This time I got through…  OF COURSE I WAS ON THE LIST!

So I handed the phone to the clerk.  He wouldn’t take it.  I mean I was calm, isn’t this how you’re supposed to do it?  And now I’m getting worried, but I realize I’ve still got Will’s e-mail on my BlackBerry and I shoot up a message and after speaking with the upstairs gatekeeper once again, confirming that I truly was on the list, the clerk looked for a third time, uttered some mumbo-jumbo about time and found me, shot my picture and I went upstairs.

Where, by this time, I needed to go to the bathroom.

The very nice man running interference at the desk couldn’t find the key, so he allowed me to go into the inner sanctum, to where the employees peed.  And as I follow his instructions, I turn a corner and am confronted with…

Every "Rolling Stone" cover ever.

It was utterly fascinating, to see the transition, in size and photographic technique.  I went way back to the beginning and found the very first issue I ever bought, from the fall of ’69, with Mick Jagger on the cover, purchased when I took the train in for my interview at Columbia.  I’d never read the issues before.  I wanted to peel them from the wall.  Alas, they were just covers.

But I didn’t go to Columbia.  After getting in, some guy I knew from a summer program wanted to room with me and that was enough to push me into going to Middlebury, where Will Dana got his college education also.  Will tracked me down.  Said he was a fan.  To come by and have lunch if I was ever in NYC.

My dream when I went to college was to write for "Rolling Stone".

And now this Middlebury alumnus almost ten years my junior was the majordomo, the Managing Editor, the only person he answered to was Jann, who called quite a bit, but Will puts together the magazine.

We went out to lunch and after catching up on history, all the magazines Will worked at before he got this job, you see in most industries you have to pay your dues, why should we believe Will Smith’s kid is entitled to be a viable star, I asked him about the McChrystal affair.

He had no idea what he was getting into!  Will wasn’t even sure the guy was gonna deliver an article!  There are no guarantees, you’ve got to take a chance, a risk.  Between this article and the musings of Matt Taibbi, "Rolling Stone" maintains its relevance.  The usual suspects wouldn’t take a risk.  "Rolling Stone" changed history.  Political history.  Musical history?

Q PRIME

I wanted to stop by and see my buddy Marc Reiter.  And just after I sat down in his office, Gayle Fine came by and asked if I was hanging, because Josh Groban saw me walk by and wanted to meet me.

Crack me up.

I was driving in the middle of nowhere Colorado on my way to Telluride and I tweeted the following message:

"Sign by the highway in the middle of nowhere Colorado: Correctional Facility Do Not Stop For Hitchhikers"

And Josh Groban retweeted it and the message continued to bounce around the Internet and Josh remembered.

Wasn’t your usual rock star.

Actually, I’m not exactly sure what musical category Josh inhabits.  And now he’s done an album with Rick Rubin upon which he wrote all but two songs, and Rick’s a stickler for songs and…

Josh has moved to NYC.  He comes up to Q Prime every day.  It looks easy and effortless from the outside, but you have to work for success.  Josh knows it’s his career, he wants to ride it.

We spoke for about an hour and then Josh said he had to go out and buy a couch.  I asked him if he was recognized.  Sure, most days, but it was fine.  Was always fascinated when they knew him but not who he was.

This guy was so normal, you wanted him to be continue to be successful, to counteract all the prima donnas competing for mindshare.

And after catching up with the Q Prime minions, Tony DiCioccio and I took the train down to the Garden.

THE GARDEN

It’s shrimpy.

I haven’t been to the Garden in decades.  I remembered it as gigantic, voluminous!  But compared to Staples Center, it’s a nightclub.  That’s what Jay said, it’s a big nightclub.

I thought of all the shows I’d missed there.  Those Rock & Roll Hall of Fame shows were great on TV, but in this intimate venue I’m sure they were incandescent.

The roof is low.  The sound is contained.  Staples is an airplane hangar, extremely wide with thousands of seats ABOVE the three levels of skyboxes.  You’re at the gig, but you’re not involved, how can you be?  It’s like having sex from a distance, from one twin bed to another, impossible!

Backstage was hysterical.  A final run-through, a final triumph before the old folks home.  Roger’s in his late sixties, not that you’d know it, and he’s still using the legends, the classic rock road guys who’ve been out forever.

And the rooms are tiny.  And you feel like you’re closer to "Spinal Tap" than Jonas Brothers in 3-D.

I finally meet Ron Delsener.  What a character.  If they put him in a movie playing himself, no one would believe it.

And there was a guy not good-looking enough, not well-dressed enough to have this model girlfriend.  Of course, he turned out to be a Ranger.

And then there was the guy who looked like he came straight from the golf course.  Literally, the pants, the thin v-neck sweater…  Billy Beane, you know, the "Moneyball" guy.

And I’m gonna tell you, I thought this tour was sacrilegious, I wasn’t gonna go.  No Gilmour, no "Comfortably Numb", no "Wall".  Sure, Roger wrote most of the material, but Dave’s an integral part.

Actually, Bob Ezrin once told me the whole story of making "The Wall".  They had a table reading of the story/songs, to make sure it all made sense.  He finally got Roger to write the lyrics for "Comfortably Numb"…

But Jay had been to the rehearsal, he said I had to go.

And so do you.  Because I’ve never seen a production quite like this.

Sure, I’ve seen fireworks.  But I’ve never seen an almost full-sized airplane fly across the arena and explode into flames.

And the remote-controlled pig was flying so close to the audience, I thought it would start being batted around like a beach ball.

And the projection was so good that they could light each and every brick individually.  Yup, they’d put ’em up and they’d be dark, they’d be in place and they’d finally light up.

Yes, that’s the construct, the building of the wall.  And it’s not hokey in the least.  It’s about a third constructed when you enter the arena, at full height at either end.  And as the show goes on, they build it higher and higher, to the point where you can barely see the band while it’s still playing.

And after intermission, the music is played behind, in front of and atop the wall.  Which ultimately comes down.

But that’s not the half of it.  The images projected on the wall and the screen behind are not just squiggles, but have meaning.  Details of those sacrificed in battle.  But even better, a poke at Apple, with "iHate" and "iKill" and "iPay" spelled out on the wall.  Everyone else is trying to suck Steve Jobs’s dick, Roger Waters is poking him in the eye.  And let me tell you, the road to respect is paved with the latter behavior, an individual stance beholden to no one.

Then again, Roger did change the juxtaposition of the Star of David with the dollar sign after the ADL complained.

But going to this show I was reminded of all those gigs I’d attended in the then new Garden way back when.  When artists had something to say.

Roger said he used to be miserable.

He looked happy now.

But what’s it like to never know your father?

And listening I couldn’t forget that Pink Floyd had started off with "See Emily Play".  The road to "Dark Side Of The Moon" and "The Wall" could not be predicted, hell, I’m sure even Roger and David had no idea they were going to get there.

And when Gilmour finally takes the stage with this show, as he’s promised to do, that will be a triumphant moment.  For as well-played as the licks were…it’s not that David was missed, it’s just that adding his special sauce, his restraint to Roger’s exuberance, yes, Roger was beaming and bouncing, would lead to a positively transcendent moment.

Once upon a time rock and roll was the circus.  Do you see the Fortune 500 getting in bed with the circus?  NOOOO!  Guys in suits want to stay away from the carneys, want to avoid the seamy underside.  But the circus performers don’t care, they’ve got their own culture, people come to them to see their show.

All the backstage personnel, the people driving the twenty trucks, Roger and the band…  They don’t need Procter & Gamble to make it, to be successful.  They don’t need an iPod commercial.  The music is enough.

Then again, that music triumphed when we were all still listening to the radio, when music drove the culture.

But never forget that "Dark Side Of The Moon" sounded like nothing before it.  Sure, there were Pink Floyd fans, but only enough to keep the record on the chart for a few weeks at most.  The music infected the public, it became part of the culture.

And then the band delivered again, with "The Wall".

And we’re still listening to the music today.

If you’re in this business, run like hell to see this show.  For the surround sound, if nothing else.  Yup, just like thirty years ago, the sound is not only coming from the stage.  Planes are flying around the arena, you hear the famous phone call…

You’re immersed in the experience.  It’s like going to Laserium.  Only in this case, the music is live.  It’s like the ensuing thirty years never happened.  Like someone from back then suddenly emerged from a time capsule today, but was fully aware of what had transpired and wanted to COMMENT ON IT!

P.S. We were sitting next to Gerald Scarfe and Jane Asher…  How cool is that?