Bob

Oh man, I want to thank you for your very generous comments about How Do I, and really much more beyond that, for ‘getting’ what I have always tried to do with my music. Because of your blog, I have been reconnected with many old friends and artists, as well as making quite a few new ones. This is such a valuable gift, I will never be able to repay you in kind.
But if there’s anything I can ever do, let me know!

You have referred, so sweetly, several times over the years about my ‘disappearance’ from your radar–and I always smile when you mention, with some small amazement, my continuing enthusiasm for music and work.  I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot, and wanted to give you my perspective on it. Guess I’m a little long winded but I’ve wanted to say this for some time.

To me, it’s all in how one defines the word ARTIST.

The definition often promoted in biographical commentary about artists from my generation goes something like this: an artist is someone who recorded for a major record label, who toured, competed in the world of radio, concerts, print, advertising, record and radio promotion, charts and record sales, backed by the mighty dollars of the company. Some of these artists became major or even moderate public figures, some fell by the wayside. However, all but the most public of these folks are considered ‘among the disappeared,’ if they failed to continue to swim in the waters of the major record company world or made enough impact to be played as an oldie. If you look at these standards as your measuring stick, indeed many artists (including me) from that era have disappeared.

HOWEVER if you recognize the major label experience as an interesting chapter in the history of popular music starting probably in the 40s, and petering out around the late 90s, and compare this particular chapter to the ongoing histories of far more working musicians than the labels ever signed, you find a very different story indeed. We only need to look at the profoundly brilliant jazz musicians like McCoy Tyner (the absolute greatest living jazz musician IM not so humble O) or the fine contemporary (and traditional) classical, Americana, world, jazz and studio musicians who have worked their entire lives without having that level of acclaim. They don’t consider themselves disappeared, nor do their fans, nor will history.

Removing that yard stick, in my case, was one of the best things I ever did in my life. I have been an independent artist for far more years than I ever spent as a major label artist. My last ‘major’ deal was in 87, Cypress/Polygram, which album I toured extensively and expensively opening with my own band for Dan Fogelberg in all the sheds–great fun, a total blast, a great experience. After that, when Cypress folded, I couldn’t find another label deal, and at the same time, I got into the old Jerry Brown-ism ‘lower your expectations and broaden your horizons.’

I’ve had, and continue to have, a roller coaster journey as a working musician, songwriter (with the occasional ‘hit’ and a huge uncut catalog) performing artist, collaborator, band member, teacher, singer, musical traveler, student, film composer, who helped found one of the early and best writers’ nights in LA when I came back from Nashville–and lots of other weird and wonderful things I can’t even remember. I’ve been so lucky to work with many of the greatest studio musicians of my time from LA, Nashville, New York, and even in Europe–these guys taught me so much. I wrote hit songs for other folks, I broke barriers as a chick record producer :):):), I got the blessed opportunity to work with my 2 dream bands: Bryndle, (RIP) 3 albums and extensive touriing) and the Refugees, (2 albums and a new one ready to mix) with a shitload of touring. I worked in gospel music, rock, folk, film, Jewish music, Christian music (!) jazz, alternative–you name it. And have done a hell of a lot of performing as well, surprise! Along the way, there was good money and there have also been some truly horrible financial years.

I released, beside the 25+ albums I produced for various other folks in the last 30 years, my own archival collections starting with Seeds and Orphans 1 and 2, where you and I met (!) and then the Back By Fall compilation which covered material that was not included on the Warner Brothers repackage. Plus I released my first studio cd in decades in 2007, with another one on the way this year. I’ve hosted filming at my studio, edited video, and played a buttload of house concerts. I learned in the years after Cypress, first Studio Vision as a recording platform, then Digital Performer, and finally Protools, with the incredibly generous help of several marvelous producer/engineers, notably Rob Hoffman, Mark Nubar, Mike Sawitzke, Andrzej Wazocha and others–these patient dudes have guided me and put up with my dumb questions, silly mistakes and madness for years now, to my great joy.

The other thing is that I’ve worked far more for free than I have for money, to the point that I’ve taken a lot of shit from friends and family. If I could tell you how many amazing contacts and friends I’ve made, wonderful musicians I’ve met because of my propensity to work free or offer my studio–it’s too much to describe but it’s quite an eye opener.

So, yeah, my life as a recording artist for major labels was extremely fortunate and wonderful – the fact that critics liked my work on balance a bit more than they hated it–this stood me in such stead that I’ve been able to work my ass off for the last 30 years literally around the world, and take on some really scary new challenges a few times. It’s been a busy 30 years and I sure hope for more because I’m just getting the hang of some things.

The thing is that this is the most FUN SHIT I could ever imagine doing with my life. Part of that musical journey was being on a major, but it was by NO means the highlight of my life as an artist. I’m doing the best work of my life now, and have made a handful of albums that I would be proud to have on my epitaph–among them, New Grass Revival, Bryndle, Mietek Szczesniak, the Refugees,  –and who knows what’s coming. I’m in school to learn some skills I overlooked while I was busy being a musician (my father is having the last laugh in heaven for sure) and it’s kicking my ass, by the way……and I write/record most days of the week. There are some interesting projects coming out of here in the next year and in fact, I’m about to embark on creating a bigger studio with space for filming.

I am by birth and by trade a working musician, and therefore, I define myself not by the first definition, but the second–an artist is someone who can’t help but commit his or her life to making art, enduring whatever the hell is going to come, because that person knows there is no choice and no greater joy. In this life, many many failures and disappointments are bound to happen, especially to those of us upon whom the narrow crown of record company/radio stardom was not bestowed. What did the Eagles say–I don’t know why fortune smiles on some and lets the rest go free –or was it Henley… Anyhow, an artist is totally separate from the major label experience that we have had briefly in this period of time. Most of my heroes are still remembered and their music played, and they worked long before there was a major label with a record promoter and a guy deciding who got the button and who didn’t

The possibility to keep learning new skills, and to find new ways to apply one’s art, and the lifelong marvelous friends and fans one encounters just doing one’s everyday  job–this is gold, man. Hey, had I not done the little independent archival cd you stumbled across, we wouldn’t be friends today!

thanks for listening. really wanted to say this stuff. Also very glad you took the chance to listen to one of the new songs, and I totally get why that would not be a lightly taken decision, having been there myself.

my love, best wishes to your family, Felice and you. and take care of yourself!!!!!!!!!!!!!  did I say take care of yourself?

much love and thanks again.

XXWW

Stop making fun of him!

If that worked, somebody else would be the nominee, he wouldn’t have increased his share of the electorate after the debacle in Wisconsin. The more the holier-than-thou say they know better, the more the downtrodden and alienated double-down.

And if you think continuing to label him a racist iconoclast works, you don’t realize that most of those voting for him don’t care what the man says, they just want to shake up the system, they believe in the man, not his outbursts.

Truly. There are only so many redneck yahoos out there. Trump wouldn’t have won the nomination if they were the only ones who cared.

Hillary lost the nomination to Obama in 2008 and she’s doing a good job of losing here. Because she’s not playing to win, she’s playing it safe. Utilizing the Clinton handbook of the nineties, where you triangulate, comb the research and tell people what they want to hear.

That don’t work no more, in the twenty first century people don’t want artifice, they want AUTHENTICITY!

Hillary is making the number one mistake of the popularity wars, she’s letting her haters define her. It’s hard to come out from under that. Furthermore, she’s playing nice and being all milk and cookies when we know she’s more cutthroat than the Donald and more experienced. It’s time not only for Hillary to take off the gloves, but to be mean. To zing. This is a heavyweight fight and you cannot win if you’re on the ropes and you don’t punch back.

Furthermore, this is the tech election. And in tech there’s a huge first mover advantage. He who gains traction first, even with a substandard product, oftentimes wins, especially if he improves the product along the way. And believe me, the soft, sensitive, reasonable side of Donald Trump is being groomed for the public as I write this. What’s Hillary gonna do then, when Trump is alternately sensible and nice?

Talk about jujitsu.

Clinton plays by the old rules, the ground game. But today it’s all about the online game. The right wing owned talk radio and the left wing owned the internet. But now Trump has leapfrogged the left to own social media. The days of blogs are through, now it’s all about Twitter and Facebook and Snapchat…and Hillary better start now, because it’s gonna be hard to garner a following in the fall.

What do we know about Hillary?

What the right wing wants us to know about her. The email server, Benghazi. Most people are clueless as to who she really is, and the truth is when you get her on stage, in front of people, she’s quite remarkable. But Debbie Wasserman Schultz put the debates on Saturday night so no one would see them, so the frontrunner wouldn’t be challenged, and today the media is all Trump all the time. The Donald eats a taco bowl and it’s front page news. As if those voting for him can’t see it’s calculated and ultimately don’t care. Will you stop making fun of those leaning to him, that’s how the Republicans got into this pickle to begin with.

And all this b.s. about immigration and trade and…

It’s not about the specifics, it’s just that Trump’s adherents believe someone’s finally listening to them, that he’s on their side. So far, Hillary has been defined by the LEFT as being on the fat cat Wall Street side. And that’s just nuts, it’s Trump who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, it’s Trump who’s inured to the private jet lifestyle. We haven’t seen such a topsy-turvy delineation since Kerry was the traitor and Bush was the war hero… Huh?

So please Democrats, stop going negative and start going positive. Give people a reason to vote for Hillary as opposed to trying to scare them away from Trump. I mean how scary can the man be, he was in business with NBC, he was on television ad infinitum. No one thinks that prime time is peopled with criminals.

But there are legions of people who believe Hillary belongs behind bars.

Come out swinging Hillary. Make news every day. Don’t play it safe. Don’t worry about the dyed-in-the-wool Democrats, they’re already on your team. Cater to those in between, who’ve lost their jobs and feel they’re unheard. And the irony here is that it will bond the disaffected Bernieites to you along the way.

Stop playing to the moneyed interests. You think you need them but you don’t. Bernie didn’t and he raised a ton of cash. You can too, if you’re just honest and forthright, if you’re three-dimensional, if you let people know who you really are and convince them that you care about them.

And I know you do.

But no one else seems to think so.

You don’t go to Coachella for the bands, but the experience.

Which is why festivals take a while to get traction, it takes time for the audience to spread the word about…the layout, the food, the camping, the toilets… Sometimes the talent gets better over time, but today the lineup’s pretty damn good on the first iteration.

And that’s what Oldchella is, the first iteration.

Location doesn’t seem to be important. It could be anywhere you could fit up to a hundred thousand people, with enough first class lodging surrounding it. Will people go?

I’m not sure I care.

I doubt the younger generation is interested. First and foremost, they’re in school, even though it is a holiday weekend. There’s just not enough experience there, just music. Played by legendary bands that might not ever play again.

That’s the hook. Definitively. See them before they die.

And then brag about it to all your buddies.

That’s a baby boomer, it’s all about one-upmanship. Driving a better car, vacationing at a better resort and being at the exclusive event. That’s what’s driving ticket sales.

Unless you’ve never seen these bands before.

And are there really boomers who have not? It’s not like these acts have been off the road, rather they’ve been on it constantly, raking in dough on their reps.

Certainly that’s the case with Bob Dylan, arguably the most legendary act on the bill, assuming you see McCartney as a solo as opposed to the Beatles incarnate. Dylan was a cipher who changed the culture. And although his latest music has been lauded by aficionados, those who still believe their words and opinions define the culture, these records have had little impact, have sold few copies and have had little lasting power. Of course there are those who will argue with me. But are they willing to pay these prices to see the Bobster one more time? I for one will not go anymore. His voice is shot and he changes the arrangements and the songs are unrecognizable. I applaud his continued journey into the artistic wilderness, it’s just that I don’t want to go along for the ride.

So if you’re going to see Bob Dylan, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Because he sucks. Good band, but you’ve got no idea what they’re playing.

Which brings us to the Stones, the first night’s headliner. Stunningly, the last time I saw them they were extraordinarily good. Not processed, but still rough, and that was their appeal. Keith was back on track but it’s Mick who carries the show. But am I the only one who feels it’s a bit creepy that they’re part of this? Didn’t the Stones always stand alone? Didn’t they bill themselves as the World’s Greatest Rock And Roll Band, making us wait forever for their appearances and then ultimately delivering a few classics that got our energy going as well as stirring up our memories? Now they’re just one of six?

That’s what bugs me about Paul McCartney. I’ll argue he’s bigger than any of these acts. Because he was a Beatle, and they started it all, the modern music business. If Dylan could still sing and still did his songs faithfully it’d be a toss-up, but the true star of the weekend is Paul. Only his voice is teetering. The band is incredible, the best of the lot. I hear he’s singing better since his illness, but Paul’s in his midseventies and skills fade. I’ve seen him multiple times. It’s thrilling. Or at least it was until his voice started faltering.

But McCartney has not been hidden, he’s been barnstorming for years, even playing Dodger Stadium. Is there any SoCal denizen who wants to see McCartney and the Stones who hasn’t?

I don’t think so.

Which brings us to Roger Waters. Who puts on quite a show, but performs without his nemesis, David Gilmour, who not only played the stellar guitar parts, but sang so much of the material. Sure, Roger wrote a lot of it, but…

That’s intellectualizing it all. The show is quite fine, but it’s also played enough for everybody to see it, both in its greatest hits iteration and its complete “Wall” rendition. I’m not saying you won’t enjoy it, but I’m not sure you have to see it, certainly if you’ve seen it before.

Which brings us to Neil Young. Who’s had multiple renaissances over the decades, he’s refused to trade on the past, he’s killed his career to reinvent it and has done this successfully. Hitting peaks along the way. As well as valleys… Can you name one track since “Greendale”? Do you own a Pono? Neil gets a pass in the press, boomers remember his music from college, but he’s a wild card in concert. Business faltered and he started saying he would play acoustically, or deliver the hits, but there’s no advance word here. Neil could Crazy Horse it to the point where everybody in attendance hits the bars. He’s capable of that. Wailing extendedly on deep cuts. And if you think this audience wants hard-edged stuff, this would be a punk revival, not classic rock. Neil could deliver, but will he? There’s a good chance he’ll be the hit of the festival. But he could just as well be the downer.

Which leaves us with the Who. Who specialize in delivering. Remember that 9/11 concert at Madison Square Garden? They blew everybody else off the stage. Townshend complains endlessly, but he always brings it in the end. Roger’s voice comes and goes, but it’s supposedly in a good place. And who doesn’t want to sing along with “Behind Blue Eyes”?

But do we want to get fooled again?

That’s what this whole extravaganza is all about, fooling us into believing that our music still counts and so do we.

But we don’t.

Make it a one act weekend, do it like Phish, but make it Led Zeppelin and Led Zeppelin only and that’s an event. They’ve been gone and most people never saw them. Six shows, six different albums. Sign me up for that!

Or maybe next year, after I hear it was a good experience I’ll go to see the bands I’ve never seen. But will people pay this much to see the Moody Blues? Certainly not Loggins & Messina, who I can’t get enough of. And Leslie West can still shred but he could not fill the Sahara Tent, no way.

Boomers don’t like to stand, but I tell you, I’d have been more interested if it was a cornucopia of old acts, a veritable plethora. Where I could sample and compare notes, tell my compatriots I’d seen them when and now…

But this isn’t really a festival but a concert, with seats and…

I don’t need to go.

Don’t get me wrong, if I did go, I’m sure I’d have a good time. I think everybody who goes will have a good time.

But it’s creepy. Everybody’s doing it for the paycheck, there’s no other reason, there is no gravitas. Sure, Woodstock was about money too, but it was also a lark, an innovation, who knew what would happen?

And what did happen was a generation was built. On music. And love. And freedom. Woodstock not only united the boomers, it served notice to the oldsters, that their power had been stolen, and this was the culture that now ruled.

So, to quote one of the latter-day Stones song I love, I’ve got mixed emotions about Oldchella. I’m not gonna predict its box office. Chances are it’ll do quite well, Goldenvoice has a great rep and there’s a history of concerts on the polo fields.

It’s just that it’s completely meaningless. Only a must-go if you do go.

The rest of us will sit at home and not care a whit.

Unless they stream it. Then we’ll tune in.

Because we know this could be our last chance, this could be the last time, and we want to get a glimpse before it’s gone.

Because, as the female with equal stature to these testosterone-fueled titans so eloquently put it…

You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

And I’ll argue they paved paradise, they put up a parking lot. It may be filled with people as opposed to cars, but they’re both soulless endeavors only about the money. Remember when the Beatles played for free on the rooftop? And the Stones and their brethren performed sans cash at Altamont?

Oh, what a long strange trip it’s been.

Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life

I feel like life passed me by. That I squandered my chance and I’m a loser in the new economy. You know, the STEM world, run by entrepreneurs. Money is everything and I ain’t got none. What did I do, where did I go wrong? Did I break the cardinal rule of the future by not having the five right friends who could help me through, did I not have enough confidence, or did I just waste too much time period…what exactly did I do in my twenties and early thirties?

I’m doing my best to read only fiction. Because it illuminates life better than truth. And I’m sick of people telling me how to live, what makes them such experts. But when I finished “The Story Of Ove,” which is a juggernaut overseas, I dream of having such impact, I researched online for greatness, that’s how I decide what to read, on the reviews, of both the cognoscenti and the hoi polloi. And I saw that William Finnegan’s “Barbarian Days: A Surfing Life,” had won the Pulitzer Prize.

Hmm… I knew of this book. But was there too much surfing? Some of the user reviews said so. But I was gonna be wasting a lot of time waiting for doctors so after I found the free sample chapter intriguing, I purchased the whole book.

And I saw myself in it.

It was not like today. In the fifties and sixties no one had famous parents, we didn’t have a leg up, we weren’t worldly. My father owned a liquor store, as did one of the surfers from the Inland Empire who went to Yale. Our mothers and fathers didn’t want us to be equal to them, they weren’t buying insurance, making sure we could survive financially, rather they wanted us to be BETTER than they were, they wanted to provide opportunities, and they neither coddled nor hovered over us. We went unsupervised. We got hurt. We made it up as we went along. And one thing’s for damn sure, our parents were not our best friends.

Finnegan, presently a staff writer for “The New Yorker,” dropped out of college. As soon as they got a high draft number that’s what so many baby boomers did. They were less worried about finances, state schools were relatively cheap, and certainly not worried about their financial futures, rather they were interested in themselves, finding out who they were as opposed to accumulating notches in their belts.

Don’t confuse this with the tech dropouts. Zuckerberg and the rest were driven, we were lackadaisical. We might know the credits on every LP but we had no idea who we wanted to be. The pinnacle was an MD, and even if you could tolerate the sight of blood did you really want to see sick people all day? Sure, organic chemistry weeded out the wannabes, but the truth is most of us wanted nothing to do with science and math, art and literature, anthropology and sociology, people-focused subjects were king.

Assuming, once again, you stayed in school.

Finnegan dropped out to go surfing. He brought his girlfriend along with him to Hawaii. Even though in so many ways we’re going backwards, with cuts to abortion, never mind welfare, much of what we accept as commonplace today was anything but in the sixties and seventies. Free love was permitted by the pill. And living together turned our parents’ insides. They wouldn’t let us stay in the same bed under their roof unless we were married, today I know kids who LIVE in their parents houses, together!

Finnegan eventually goes back to school, but it’s not Harvard, it’s UC Santa Cruz. Everybody wanted to go to the best school they could get into, but if you didn’t go to an Ivy you didn’t see your life as immediately ending, you didn’t see your future chopped right off.

And then he worked for the railroad. That’s right, after finishing his education Finnegan did blue collar work to accumulate enough cash to fuel his dreams. Does anybody even do that anymore? As far as starting a career out of school, not a single one of my compatriots, including myself, of course, met with a recruiter on campus, and I went to a highfalutin’ college filled with strivers.

So why did I go to Middlebury?

THE SKIING!

That’s true, absolutely. And looking back over the decades I can see that’s the one thing I studied that I still do, assiduously, it appears I made the right choice. However, I could never relate to most of the people there, they thought life was all about what you learned in books, I wanted something more, which was not so easily accessible in the hinterlands of Vermont.

So with that railroad cash Finnegan went on an endless surf trip, around the world. Even Howard Stern believes you can’t sacrifice that career time, but Finnegan did. He was in search of not only the perfect wave, but new experiences, in an era where when you were far from home you truly were, hopefully letters caught up with you weeks later. There were no cell phones, no safety net, you lived by your wits.

In this case at the bottom. Finnegan reported his travelers checks stolen and after getting reimbursement the originals were sold on the black market. Desperate people do desperate things. But today’s upper classes don’t know desperation, they know flying private, the world is their oyster!

As for the surfing… What is the most important thing in life? Everybody goes around just once, we all get the same amount of time, give or take. You can work at the bank, do 24/7 at the tech firm, make a lot of cash, but when you look back did you follow your dream, did you have great experiences, or did you just do what was expedient, afraid to break the mold and be poor.

And free.

You die and then you’re forgotten. Just look at the deceased heroes of the year, no one was even mentioning David Bowie until Prince died, and the purple one is getting tons of adulation but then…time marches on.

So I feel better about myself. Especially the 54 days I spent on the hill this year. I hit some amazing powder in Telluride, especially on Electra off of Gold Hill. It was blowin’ and snowin’ and near closing time and there was an EX sign on top of the slope that designated extreme terrain and I’d never been there before but something inside said this was my chance. I was on ’em, I could do this.

So I pushed off.

Stuart said no mas, he went down. Joel and Schmitty decided to follow me, they went into the trees.

And when I reached a point where I could see no more, I stopped. And asked a local. Which way to go.

NOT THIS WAY!

The obvious way, over the ridge, was full of rocks and cliffs, we should go ’round the bend.

Where there was a railing. A series of poles and wire rope installed so you didn’t fall off the cliff. There were a couple of feet to maneuver in. But you could only go straight.

I’m here telling you the story. Obviously nothing untoward happened. And sure, I might have survived just fine on the road not taken.

But the fact is I took a risk. Not a business one that would yield me money, but a personal one that meant something only to me.

And it won’t pay dividends.

But it made me and still makes me feel fully alive.

I don’t think youngsters fully understand their baby boomer progenitors. It’s hard to imagine being so unencumbered and free.

But we were.

In an era when life was different. When musicians were kings, speaking their truth, beholden to no one, corporations were the enemy.

And the audience was all on a personal hejira. Groupthink was anathema. We wanted to be all we could be.

Sure, the Army ripped off our slogan but we were there first.

We were always there first.