I have no idea whether Kesha was raped by Dr. Luke.

But I do know the singer has a bad lawyer. This is the same guy who represented Winona Ryder, who was accused of shoplifting. Rather than copping a plea and having it go away, he turned it into a cause celebre that resulted in a media circus and ultimately Ms. Ryder’s career was devastated. Is Mark Geragos doing the same thing for Kesha here?

A good lawyer looks at the desired result, what he wants to achieve for his client.

What did Geragos want to achieve for Kesha?

It doesn’t appear to be a conviction of Dr. Luke on charges of rape. Because there is no criminal case. Rather this is a purely civil matter, it appears Kesha just wants to get out of her contract.

But this is nearly an impossible thing to do. At best you can make a deal, have another label pick up the rights and pay back the original owner. But Geragos is playing the long ball, with Kesha’s career at risk. He wants the contract invalidated on a rape that was once denied by his client and will be hard to prove.

This has got nothing to do with whether the rape happened or not. This is about goals, and how to achieve them.

One can argue the result proffered by Sony and Dr. Luke is a pretty good one, the ability to record without Dr. Luke’s involvement. As for Kesha’s allegation that benefits will go to her “rapist”… A good attorney tells his client not to try for everything, but to get as much as she can.

I won’t walk you through the mumbo-jumbo of what the judge said yesterday. There are issues of jurisdiction, but there are also instances wherein the judge says Kesha’s case was not supported by enough evidence, which also indicates shoddy lawyering.

But, once again, good lawyers focus on result.

Marcia Clark, et al, were so busy entering all evidence, boringly, that the O.J. Simpson jury tuned out. Whereas Johnnie Cochran knew a trial was a drama, a play, that had to entice and convince the jury. Who wants to watch a bad show?

But that’s a criminal case. But I bring it up to show just because you believe someone is guilty, and they just might be, a bad lawyer will have a hard time convicting them.

I can’t think of a single instance wherein an artist under contract has been able to walk away with impunity, not one. This is a novel theory, that Kesha should be able to do this because of rape. It could possibly be won, but what are the odds, and at what cost?

The odds are low.

And the cost to Kesha is her career.

Didn’t Kesha’s team allege that musical careers are evanescent?

Did George Michael’s career ever recover from suing Sony?

This is business. I sympathize with those who say rape is hard to prove. But, once again, Kesha is trying to get out of her contract, that’s her main goal. Is her attorney helping her achieve this?

Right now, no.

And the clock keeps ticking and ticking.

TiK ToK.

“New York State Judge Rejects Kesha’s Claims in Dr. Luke Case”

Kesha v. Dr. Luke

A footnote in the history of rock and roll, under his moniker a classic rock track was created that will never die.

But he did. Last week. Years after his bandmates Speedy Keen and Jimmy McCulloch.

McCulloch joined the band when he was fifteen. And it was he who went on to further notoriety, most famously with Paul McCartney’s Wings, wherein he composed the music for “Medicine Jar,” from the band’s 1975 smash “Venus and Mars,” which gets no love today, it’s completely forgotten, but how could one follow up “Band on the Run”? Yet, “Venus and Mars” contains one of my favorite McCartney tracks, “Letting Go,” the whole album was the soundtrack of my summer of 1975, along with “Blood on the Tracks” and “One of These Nights.” McCulloch also composed the music for “Wino Junko” from Wings’ 1976 album “At the Speed of Sound.” More famous than “Venus and Mars” because of the lightweight hits “Silly Love Songs” and “Let ‘Em In,” the album was not as good, it featured too much of Linda, “Cook Of The House” may have been a joke, but it was execrable, however there were some standout tracks on the LP, like “Beware My Love” and “Warm and Beautiful,” and let’s throw in “She’s My Baby” for good measure. And let’s not forget McCulloch’s debut with Paul, et al, was on “Junior’s Farm,” a ripper. But Jimmy couldn’t keep his hand out of the medicine jar and died at 26, what a waste.

John “Speedy” Keen held out much longer, he didn’t pass away until 2002, but despite being the genius behind Thunderclap Newman, writing almost all the material, after this success he slipped into obscurity, I bought his 1975 solo LP, anyone who knew his work had to have it, but it was disappointing.

And the man the band was named after?

Andy Newman was an enigma, a piano player who seemed to vanish into thin air once the band broke up. Who was responsible for the band’s success? Was it Pete Townshend who produced and played bass? McCulloch was a stellar guitarist. But, as stated above, Keen wrote the songs.

But the album had Newman’s piano all over it. Especially the almost ten minute masterpiece “Accidents.”

Okay, now you think I’m overstating. Could be the case. But I listened to “Hollywood Dream,” the band’s one and only LP, ad infinitum back in 1970 and ’71, I purchased it at Sam Goody’s during fall break from college. I met my new best friend Larry at the museum toting all the LPs I’d retrieved, needing them for sustenance, to get me through the first semester of my freshman year.

It did not begin auspiciously.

I’m game. I’ll make the most of a situation. I leave the starting line. I learned all this from my mother.

But it doesn’t always work.

You can give it your best try, the old college try, and still…you may find out you’re in an untenable position.

Kind of like freshman orientation. They bused us all up to Bread Loaf, Middlebury’s summer campus, wherein a band played and we ate unmemorable food and I was as lonely as a boy could be.

Except when the band from Boston played Thunderclap Newman’s “Something in the Air.” The sound man let me listen on headphones. I couldn’t believe they were playing a song I’d only heard a couple of times on FM radio that seemingly no one knew but me. You could buy it as part of the “Strawberry Statement” soundtrack LP, a double, but even though I read the book I wasn’t about to lay down my cash for an album of songs I already owned just for this one cut. And who would even know where to buy a single, a format I’d given up on once the Beatles hit.

So, inspired by the song, that’s the power of music, on the way back to campus I sat next to a woman and did my best job of chatting her up. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. I just looked her up, she’s an MD in the middle of the country. Don’t you love the internet?

Sometimes.

But for a long time the band’s LP “Hollywood Dream” was unavailable.

And it’s still not on streaming services.

But Tom Petty brought “Something In The Air” back from the dead on his “Greatest Hits” LP, it’s a faithful version, I give TP credit.

And the way the song goes…

Call out the instigators
Because there’s something in the air

Funny how 1969 and 2016 are so similar. Even if Hillary wins we know there’s widespread unrest, the populace is no longer happy with the rich and powerful dictating to us.

We’ve got to get together sooner or later
Because the revolution’s here

That’s the difference between yesterday and today. Yesterday the youth were all on the same team, there was no such thing as a twentysomething Republican, we loved our brothers, we wanted change, now we’ve got chaos.

Hand out the arms and ammo
We’re gonna blast our way through here

Not if college students insist on trigger warnings, back then we were afraid of getting our ass shot off in Vietnam, so we were much more willing to put our lives on the line, death’ll do that for you.

Another difference between then and now is music rode shotgun, it greased the skids of change.

And you know it’s right

That’s right, you know you’ve got a gay brother, that your grandparents were immigrants, that really you’re no better than anybody else. So why do we keep trying to keep each other down?

At least we used to have the Hollywood Dream. And the American Dream. The dream that things could get better and would. Our music inspired us.

And now our heroes are dropping like flies. Some that you recognize, some that you’ve hardly even heard of, as Ray Davies would say.

Merle Haggard passed today.

And David Bowie and Glenn Frey and Paul Kantner and Dan Hicks and more bit the bullet already this year.

Joe Cocker passed a year ago.

But we know all them.

Most people don’t know Andy Newman.

Let that be a lesson to you, you can have a worldwide hit and still live in obscurity, never mind poverty. At least Andy Newman went back to being an electrician, as opposed to continuing to court the dream.

So, reach for the brass ring. And if your work resonates you can be an agent for change.

That’s the job of an artist, to link us all together, to show us the way, to illustrate that life is not dreary, to give us hope.

Andy Newman’s act did all that for me.

I salute him and his bandmates, who may be gone but are not forgotten by me.

Maybe you know what I’m talking about…

Or to put it another way, are you better off telling people what they want to hear?

Trump tells his acolytes there’s gonna be a border wall that Mexico will pay for.

Bernie tells his believers that college is gonna be free.

Neither will happen.

But neither will get elected. The true winners don’t hit the long ball, don’t promise the fantastical, they titillate your inner soul with the possible.

And then you fall for it, and then you get screwed.

The truth in this life is that there are leaders and followers, and I’m not sure one can become the other. I’m also not sure if you’re born that way. But I do know the winners are charismatic people who charm you into believing they’ll deliver what you want. So you follow them and support them and even give them the benefit of the doubt until…you’ve been screwed over too many times and cry foul, but the truth is the leader then has a whole new group of followers who believe.

Because they want to. Otherwise life would be too tragic, if you had no hope, if you didn’t think things could get better. That’s what Maria Konnikova posits in her book

“The Confidence Game: Why We Fall For It Every Time.”

Not that everybody leading a corporation is a con man.

Then again, corporations are not the only organizations where this applies. Ever hear the coach or manager of a sports team say they suck, that they cannot win? Not if he wants to keep his job. But eventually, when results falter, that person is bounced and a new one comes in with the same mantra.

Which happens at the company too. But in many companies the CEO controls the board, it’s all groupthink all the time. Only in America can a CEO underperform yet still get his bonus.

But that’s what the underclass is reacting to, and everybody from the middle on down is now part of the underclass, they believe the game is rigged.

And it is. Dishonesty reigns. Lying, cheating, fudging… That’s what the winners do.

They also take the reins, like a basketball player with a hot hand they want the ball, they don’t shy away from risk, they want to be in control, they want to take the shot.

Is there room for honesty?

That’s what Trump and Sanders are depending on. Before he blew himself up honesty was Trump’s calling card, saying the unsayable. And Sanders may not have gone for shock effect, but unlike the Donald Bernie was consistent, he’d been saying the same things decade after decade.

But Bernie can’t win because the game is rigged. First the debates were on Saturdays, when no one was watching, so he couldn’t get traction. Then, he hit the superdelegate wall.

Meanwhile, the press didn’t cover him because common wisdom was that he had no chance. Bernie had not cultivated the media powers-that-be, it hurt him.

But the Donald knew how to use the media to his advantage, that’s what powered his campaign.

And one could be frustrated, or one could lead too.

But the common man does not want to, does not want the scrutiny and the pressure, does not want the risk.

There are those who can accept the spotlight and those who cannot.

And the winners of the game bask in it.

It’s no different from Kanye West telling us he’s a winner ad infinitum. We start to believe it. With the endless coverage of his antics West appears the most powerful musician on the planet, one who can lie with impunity. Didn’t he say “Pablo” would never be available on Apple?

Oops.

But we give him a pass, because we love the theatre, and most people don’t care anyway.

So if you want to win, you can’t do it without friends. And the way you make friends is to be entertaining and the way you get them to do what you want is by promising them promotions and money, finding their soft spot and playing to it. Meanwhile, you’re constantly foraging for new believers to replace the old ones who fall off. And if you’re all truth all the time, you’re doomed. But give people hope of a better life and you can win.

Don’t blame me, I’m just the messenger.

Justin Bieber – Love Yourself – YouTube

I listened to the Spotify U.S. Top Fifty and this was the best song on it.

Second best was Robin Schulz’s “Sugar,” which stalled on the U.S. chart, but has an amazing hook, sampled from the 2004 Baby Bash smash “Suga Suga.” Huh?

That was over a decade ago, I’d never heard of Baby Bash, but when I went back and listened to the original, goddamn, it was a hit. How is anybody supposed to keep up with this stuff?

The two “Sugas” are the same record but they’re not, both have this guitar part that might not be “Sunshine Of Your Love” or “Layla” but Eric Clapton hasn’t whipped off something so captivating in decades.

Not that the rest of the chart was as compelling. Too much canned percussion, too much stuff that sounded like everything else, and then there was “Love Yourself.” It was quiet where the other tracks were loud, intimate were the others were playing to the bleachers, and featured instrumentation completely different from everything else too.

It’s everything Justin Timberlake built his reputation upon, but purveyed by someone with a much worse image, that is Justin Bieber.

For all the times that you rain on my parade
And all the clubs you get in using my name

And there’s the cultural difference right there. Boomers and Gen-X’ers went to bars, where they drank, swayed to the jukebox, maybe danced to a live band, but the Millennials… It’s a completely different experience, the club is upscale, it resembles an amusement park, there’s always a deejay, it’s where you go to jockey for position as well as find love and hang with your friends. That’s right, the kids are all about the group, which may explain why there are so many writers on all their tracks. We think they need help, but maybe collaboration is inbred.

You think you broke my heart, oh, girl, for goodness’ sake
You think I’m crying on my own, well I ain’t

The boy doth protesteth too much. It’d be one thing if the track was a bombastic number full of over the top anger, but it’s not, it’s quiet, and therefore you can tell…he still cares. Whew! It’s all over the track, he’s kissing her off but only because he needs to separate himself, pull himself up to higher ground, survive.

And I didn’t wanna write a song
‘Cause I didn’t want anyone thinking I still care, I don’t

The anti-Taylor Swift. He’s reluctant, at least that’s the posture, he’s not loading ammo, pulling back the string of the bow, but he’s got to say his piece. He doesn’t want to draw attention, but she’s gone too far.

But you still hit my phone up

This sticks out, locates the song in the present, but it works, because this is how the younger generation behaves, the phone is the center of communication, only unlike in the past everybody’s got their own and they never talk on it, unless it’s to their parents. The communication is endless, all day, as opposed to waiting to get home to your parents’ house to dial your crush to ask her about the homework.

My mama don’t like you and she likes everyone

This is the true hook, this is what puts “Love Yourself” over the top. Sure, it hearkens back to a previous era, when you asked permission to go on a date, never mind get married, when everybody lived in the same neighborhood, but we all know mothers like this, who are invested in their children, who want to know their friends and give them the benefit of the doubt. The mamas we like to hang with, go to their houses to talk to them. And when they give everybody thumbs up but not her, you know she’s bad news.

‘Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh, baby, you should go and love yourself

He’d really rather use the f-word, but he didn’t. And has added a whole new meaning to boot. We know the type, who is so busy putting on her look, being perfect, being stuck up, that no one can really penetrate them, they really don’t want to be known, only exalted, and it’s our flaws that make us lovable anyway.

And when you told me that you hated my friends
The only problem was with you and not them
And every time you told me my opinion was wrong
And tried to make me forget where I came from

It’s men who switch teams, not in the “Seinfeld” way, but as in giving up their old life to switch to a new one, that of their beloved. For all men’s swagger, women are the social directors. Men can be manipulated, they want to make you happy, you’ve just got to own your power.

Justin is trying to extract himself from her web.

But this track is really not about the words, well, other than that bit about his mama, but the sound. In an era where we’re constantly beat over the head there’s almost nothing on it. Just a guitar that could have come out of a jazz club and ultimately an otherworldly sax solo that seals the deal.

Credit Ed Sheeran, the song’s cowriter. Once you know Sheeran was involved you can hear him in the song, the way the verses descend.

And it’s easy to criticize Bieber, say he’s just a frontman, not responsible.

And who knows, that may be true.

But what is also true is “Love Yourself” is a stone cold smash, far superior to the vaunted tracks in other genres played by those inured to the old system, before Napster, when the internet blew up everything we knew.

I know, I know, an album should be a statement straight from the heart written only by those involved, in the band, preferably one or two people. And the perpetrators should have dignity, should not say they’re the greatest and overhype themselves.

It’s hard to separate the image from the music. Bieber not only grew up in public, he demonstrated his ignorance and bad judgment. He pinballed from one mistake to another, the stories were everywhere. Funny I know he got stopped in a Lamborghini and egged a house but hadn’t heard “Love Yourself.”

Of course I’d heard “Where Are U Now,” but I gave credit to Diplo and Skrillex, the former the king of Spotify, admirable for testing limits and coming up with a sound that is instantly ear-pleasing but one step beyond, and the latter notorious for the sounds that permeate this hit track.

And Howard Stern’s posse cannot stop making fun of “What Do You Mean?” and its infectious bounciness, but that’s just the point, it’s contagious.

And I knew “Sorry” too. Its breeziness allowed me to dismiss it as pure pop in a long tradition thereof, sure, it was a hit, and I liked it, but was it really that great?

It is. With much more on the track than is on “Love Yourself,” it’s got that incredible hook and great chorus. It’s one of those cuts you like more the more you hear it. I dismissed it as an apology, which Bieber has done too much of, but the song transcends that element.

And then comes “Love Yourself.”

And now I’m reevaluating. I’m wishing I’d seen the Biebs at Staples Center. Because he’s equaling Madonna, coming up with indelible cuts on a regular basis even though both are inches from the precipice.

This is not the Beatles, this is not Joni Mitchell, this is not Stevie Wonder.

But like the Beatles, the tracks have twists and turns that are immediately endearing.

And like Joni, Bieber is testifying, speaking from the heart.

And like Stevie, innovative sounds are all over the records.

The cuts aren’t even derivative, which is more than you can say about the work of the aforementioned Mr. Timberlake.

It’s confounding, everybody aged rejects him but the youngsters consider him part of the firmament, they’ve grown up with him, and unlike most teen popsters he didn’t have an instant expiration date.

And one can wonder how responsible he truly is.

But one cannot argue with the result.

So maybe things are not as bleak as they seem. Maybe rock is dying for a reason, a dearth of memorable cuts that are so repetitive they don’t endear a younger audience which has Led Zeppelin at its fingertips anyway. And the rest of the aged wannabes and barely-theres, you’ve got to be a diehard fan, listen ad infinitum to get hooked by their music, whereas this Bieber stuff reaches you right away.

But the media assault has been overwhelming and overbearing. We don’t want to hear anything more about him, but we do want to hear more of his music, if it can fight through the scrim of his public persona and the unending story.

He’s got a better voice than Twizzle Stick and he’s less vindictive and even though he’s growing up in public too, he’s not ping-ponging from obsessed to lovable, begging us to care. Hell, Biebs just canceled his meets and greets.

Maybe we’re going to go deeper in this direction, even more collaboration, even more social media onslaught, as long as the music is this hooky and the lyrics have insight and meaning…it’s hard to argue we’re going the wrong way.

If you listen to these tracks and reject them, don’t understand why they’re successful even though not in your chosen genre…

You’re full of sour grapes.

And you’re probably tapping your foot as you’re tapping your online screed saying Justin sucks.

We need more stuff like “Love Yourself.”

The men don’t know…

BUT THE LITTLE GIRLS UNDERSTAND!

Love Yourself – Spotify playlist