Peter Benedek was beaming at dinner Wednesday night and I had no idea what he was so happy and proud about.

Turned out UTA had canceled its Oscar party and was donating the 250k to the ACLU and was holding a rally, all in support of its client Asghar Farhadi, the Iranian director of “The Salesman.”

I saw it. At the Royal in West L.A. A four o’clock screening on a weekday that was nearly sold out. I was the youngest person in the theatre, it’s the oldsters and the youngsters who are keeping the cinemas alive, but I couldn’t miss it, because of “A Separation.”

One of the best films of the twenty first century, I highly recommend it. What did Depeche Mode say, people are people? Doesn’t matter if they live in Iran, they’ve got families and aged relatives who need care and “A Separation” won the Best Foreign Film Oscar in 2012, deservedly so, and “The Salesman” is nominated in that category this year, but Asghar Farhadi couldn’t come, because of the Trump travel ban.

That’s when Jeremy Zimmer decided to take action.

What kind of bizarre world do we live in where the execs take more risk than the talent? I’m still waiting for the musicians to stand up. To get down in the dirt and try to hold back the momentum of the D.C. juggernaut. Because, after all, musicians represent everything they hate. Their free-flowing lifestyles with the drugs and the alcohol and the sex before marriage. You’d think they’d want to protect their interests, but they’re afraid. They don’t want to potentially alienate some customer who doesn’t care anyway.

And I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, that anybody on the front lines is familiar with, and that’s that the right wing works the refs. Say anything against them, anything in support of left wing positions, and they come out of the woodwork saying “There you go again,” along with a bunch of false facts. The left wing doesn’t do this, because the left wing is lazy and disorganized. But what ends up happening is the refs cave, the media and the newsmakers, and we’re led to believe that the right wing position prevails. It doesn’t, certainly not on abortion and immigration and so much more. So when are you gonna stand up for your rights?

Now I’m online all day. Checking the news apps and sites. How did I miss this UTA announcement?

So while Peter is talking at dinner I decide to Google. And it turns out the only mainstream publications who went with the story that day were the New York “Daily News” and the UK “Daily Mail.” It was all over the trades, Deadline, “Variety” and the “Hollywood Reporter,” but in the straight press, nada.

This is the world we live in. When you don’t realize you’re in a bubble. You think everybody knows what you’re doing and they don’t. Getting the word out is a long, sustained process. And it’s less about spreading the word on one story than continuing to create stories.

So self-sacrifice is in. Turns out so many of us are willing to pay more taxes, willing to live without for the greater good. We are all in this together, right? Our only hope is for left and right to unite for economic security for all. That’s what this is all about, jobs. No one really cares about foreigners, they just want food on the table and the foreigners are scapegoats belittled by an entitled class that has left the disadvantaged behind. I mean how the hell am I supposed to pull myself up by my bootstraps if I’ve got none and know nobody in power?

I believe in globalization, I believe manufacturing can’t come back to America, or if it does, most of the work will be done by robots, but I do believe in the right of every person to have a roof over their head, food on the table and economic opportunity. Those are the problems we must solve, which does not involve giving the rich more money and supporting faded industries like coal which has been eclipsed by natural gas and fracking.

The world changes, the cheese gets moved. Ever since digitization we’ve had groups lamenting this, wanting to jet back to the past. But coal miners are like workers in CD plants, their heyday is in the rearview mirror.

Now after UTA announced their cancellation, WME said it was gonna start a PAC. And that’s how it works, it’s a domino effect, one person stands up and then the rest do. Imagine if Gaga said she would not perform at the Grammys, and if the show had to ultimately go dark or feature C-level talent. The word would get across. That’s the power of a musician. Not that I think the Grammys need to go, not for this reason, but the point is you leverage your advantages and stand up for something.

And UTA just did this.

What are you gonna do?

1. The Promoter

The most powerful entity in the music business. Because they write the checks. And on the road is where you make the most money. Unheralded and unknown, especially by the press, the labels get all the glory, but it’s the promoters that keep the business healthy. Anybody can get their music on streaming services, not anybody can get a gig and get paid for it. Sure, there are open buildings, but have you got the money to guarantee rent, the ability to advertise and get people to come to the show? The promoter does all this for little upside. The promoter takes all the risk and you reap the glory. Of course the more unknown you are the worse deal you get. But if you can deliver, your splits improve.

2. The Agent

Of course you need a manager, but even more you need an agent, otherwise you’re just sitting on the couch fantasizing. There’s a lot of talk and little action with developing acts. How can you get an agent interested? Not so much by demonstrating that you’re good, but by showing that you can draw an audience. You can sit at home concocting songs but if you want to get ahead you’re better off honing your live show. Take every opportunity available, even for free at first. Not only do you want to expose people, you want to get better. No one gets good at a job until they actually do it. Not only do you have to perform the songs on stage, you have to engage the audience, which is harder than it looks. Now the funny thing about today’s music business is agents find you, as do record labels. Nothing’s hidden, everything’s available, and if you can garner a live audience, if you can sell tickets, an agent will probably show up. Not that you cannot pitch yourself, but dragging an agent to a gig is only part of the problem, then you’ve got to deliver on stage and demonstrate you can build an audience. Sure, agents are interested in socials, but they’re more interested in ticket sales. This is where the rubber meets the road, where it can’t be faked. Big agents will probably not be interested at first. Sign with a small one if necessary. But know that agency relationships, unlike record deals, are fluid. You can move on with little obligation. The law varies from state to state, but this is the essence. The irony is if you become a superstar in most cases you no longer need an agent, you can negotiate directly with the promoter, but agents don’t want to tell you this, they want to prove their necessity, as the agency they work for gets into other businesses and their importance wanes.

3. Record label

You don’t need one unless you plan to get on the radio. And I’m talking Top 50 or Urban radio. Otherwise, the label can’t do much for you and will take all the action in the process. The goal used to be to get a record deal, today you want to play live, where all the money is anyway. If you play music that can get in the Spotify Top 50, a major will be helpful. As for indies, you can tell  your mother you got a deal but there will be little cash and no radio and they probably won’t do much other than send out press kits and they’ll take all the money if there is any. You want to do it yourself until you get traction. It’s a funny business, everybody’s trumpeting their relationships, when the statistic insiders care about is money. How much money is involved, how much are you making. Labels can delay your career and hold you up when things are not going well and it’s more akin to the movie business than the music business of yore. The labels make big investments, they roll the dice on that which they believe will go nuclear. And, as you know, almost none does. Do you want to be tied up and play these odds?

So it comes down to you. Used to be it was about aligning yourself with the players because the barrier to entry was so high. Now the barrier to entry is nonexistent. You can make the music at home on your computer for bupkes, you can distribute it on streaming services for nearly nothing, but the hardest part is getting people to pay attention. And that’s your job. Don’t put the cart before the horse, don’t try to gain attention before you deserve it. Because that just makes it harder to get people to give a look when you deserve it down the line. Your only hope is to empower the public. Press reaches fewer people than ever before. The papers review albums that go straight to the dumper. You’re on your own, and that’s a good thing. Because you can experiment, you can pivot, you can be in the game all the time. Used to be when recording was expensive and labels paid for it they dribbled out albums that they micro-managed, because of the risk involved. Now you can write a new song and put it on streaming services immediately, put a cover on YouTube, build a following with a Snapchat Story… The only problem is now the competition is everybody. Used to be if you jumped the hurdle and got a deal, that eliminated most of the competition, you were a member of the club, chances are word could be spread about you and you might be able to trade on it for the rest of your life. No longer. This mimics the world at large. Where the rich get richer and the poor get flat screens and the underclass believes it can make it on hopes and dreams but ultimately becomes disillusioned. Music is the land of wannabe hype. Everybody’s spamming ad infinitum. How do you break through the clutter? With tunes and performance, and those are the hardest things. And even if you’re great, it takes longer to make it today. So look for a spark, look for an increase in metrics, and if you don’t get it, change what you’re doing or give up. And there’s no dishonor in giving up. It’s fun to play music but not everyone can do it for a living. And if you want to become famous, there are much better ways than playing music, especially in this internet era. And if you want to become rich, being a musician is kind of like…being a lawyer. A profession that once put you ahead of the pack with a guaranteed income but no longer does. Sure, there are some lawyers making bank, but many graduates can’t even get a legal job. Find your niche in life. If it’s gonna be music, focus on your skills and try to do something different and know it’s a long hard slog. Furthermore, you can be uber-talented and not make it. And sour grapes dooms you. Overnight success is rare, and rarely lasts. Think building blocks. And the best way to have a sustained career is to play live, garner an audience and move up the performance food chain.

Can I get a hallelujah
Can I get an amen

Now that was refreshing.

In a world of beats, where there are no bands and every record lives in a computer, to see someone sing a song with no special effects accompanied by a group of skilled players is a revelation.

I’ve been overhyped. That’s the problem with the modern paradigm, everybody’s so wary of being ignored, of no one being aware of them, that they ramp up the hype machine to the point where it turns people off. I enjoyed “80s Mercedes” but didn’t love it, but everyone from Nashville, every country music fan couldn’t stop talking about the great hope who was going to eviscerate bro country.

But I didn’t get her until I saw her.

Live shows have become like movies, with production and dancing, it’s background, fodder for your social media feed, when you go to the show it’s about you and the act might as well be a hologram, a vapid repository for your hopes and dreams who is positively empty.

But it didn’t used to be this way.

Back before Netflix, back before staying home was hipper and more enjoyable than staying in, you went out to hear bands. Your local cover group, the new act coming through town you’d read about, it was a regular activity. But that’s now gone. People will overpay to see stars, but clubs have gone by the wayside and deejays rule anyway, so to see Maren Morris do it the way it used to be…got my heart beating and my legs moving in a way they used to and stunningly still know how to.

She came out with her white guitar, with the high heels, tight pants and tube top, because let’s be clear, she’s young and she can make it work, but what closed the audience was not her appearance but her delivery, the way she sold it, with the music in her.

This was not a song written by committee, but something Maren definitely had a hand in, it felt like her… Remember when we believed the music because the people singing wrote it? I do, and this hearkened back to what once was and still survives to a degree in Nashville, the only place where the ability to pick a Gibson still matters, where rock and melody and harmony still live, even if they call it country.

So there’s no light show, no slides, nothing to distract the audience from the performance. And performance is different from recording. Live is where you close people, where you make fans that’ll carry you through, give you a career.

And when you’re new and unknown, when you’re not a household name, you’ve got to hit the stage and close the reluctant looky-loos right away.

I was relaxed on the couch with Daniel Glass, discussing the inane “Billboard Power 100,” where they just shuffled the deck from the year before, talk about irrelevant, and then Maren hit the stage and started to play and I could sit no more, I had to get up and stand by the railing, and that’s when my body started to move, the music infected me.

Now in the seventies I’d have been sipping a beer. Scanning the audience for potential. Because back then that’s the only way you could connect with people, by going out. And it was tons more difficult but the grease was not only the alcohol, but the music. That’s what got us out there. It was an integral part of our existence. Music was not evanescent, it was everything.

But I find holy redemption
When I put this car in drive
Roll the windows down and turn up the dial

Millennials have abandoned cars. Soon no one will drive. But the American pastime didn’t used to be baseball, but getting behind the wheel, families used to take Sunday drives, but once you got your license you were itching to hit the highway, roll the windows down, put the pedal to the metal and turn it up!

Maren’s singing about a universal experience we old people know by heart.

And when she sang tonight it brought me back to what once was.

AND IT FELT SO GOOD!

Hero – Spotify

Maren Morris – My Church – YouTube

Chicago II – Spotify

We wanted to get closer to the music.

We grew up in an era where music came out of a small speaker in the dashboard, a tiny speaker on the side of the all-in-one record player in our bedroom, the muffled speaker on the front of the console in the living room. Meanwhile, recording went from mono to twenty four tracks and there were things to hear, things you could hear, if you just got a better system and a pair of headphones, stereo was the computer of its era. You saved your pennies to afford a separates system with big speakers that allowed you to blast your tunes purely, without distortion, to allow the sound to envelop you.

And the people making this music knew this. It was a mutual acceleration into a technical future where sound was everything, which required the players knew how to play and the engineers knew how to record and you knew how to listen.

And listen we did. We didn’t want no Pandora, background music, our tunes were positively foreground. We bought our albums, broke the shrinkwrap, dropped the needle and luxuriated in the sound over and over and over again, we had a limited number of albums and we played them.

And one of the albums I played was by Chicago Transit Authority. A double LP package for only a dollar more, this is the one with “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?”, the one with the protesters in the Windy City chanting “The whole world is watching…”, there were no hits but there didn’t need to be, music lived in our lairs, with FM radio as our best friend.

And that initial double LP made inroads over time, and what a concept it was, an expansion of Al Kooper’s paradigm for Blood, Sweat & Tears, a big band with even more horns, Chicago was made up of PLAYERS! And suddenly they had hits and none of the albums were singles, as in they were doubles or more, and then they went for radio play and their credibility evaporated. But before that…

The linchpin was guitarist Terry Kath, who died via misadventure, putting a dent in a band that ultimately never recovered. How much of a rock and roll fan am I that I know his replacement was Donnie Dacus, only Kath could never be replaced, he might have been a player, but he was nearly as integral to his band as Jim Morrison was to the Doors. And you can hear that, on Steven Wilson’s remix of “Make Me Smile,” listen at 2:45, it’s like you’re six inches away and Terry is picking and you instantly see the difference between then and now, then you spoke with your instrument and today you vocalize on social media. You realize how damn good he was.

Not that the rest of the band is not stellar.

I’d be lying if I told you I liked “Chicago II” as much as the debut, but I bought it and know it but haven’t played it in forever although I do hear the hits on the radio every once in a while, the aforementioned “Make Me Smile” and “25 Or 6 To 4,” but listening now I’m reminded of that pre-distraction era, when you’d sit alone in your bedroom and play all four sides of the album, be taken away to another place, put in a mood, and when you listen to Steven Wilson’s remix you’ll be reminded too.

Yes, kind of a strange pick in theory, after King Crimson and Jethro Tull, but like the members of those bands, the ones in Chicago could play, and when you strip away the detritus you’re positively wowed at what is revealed.

It’s a one percent difference. But oh what a difference it makes!

Listen to the remix and then listen to the original. There’s just a bit more separation, a bit more clarity, but it’s like getting glasses after years of not knowing you’re nearsighted, you’re stunned at what you can see, what you can hear.

And on one hand I think nobody cares. These are ancient records that have been remastered and oversold since the CD era, but what seems like a rip-off ends up being a revelation, Steven Wilson has made these tracks new again. And what is revealed is MUSIC!

You remember music, don’t you?

When bands like Led Zeppelin wouldn’t deign to play the Grammys, never mind beg wankers like Ken Ehrlich for permission to do so. When bands said no instead of yes, why duet when the original needed nothing in addition. Want to impress me? Resurrect Sandy Denny to sing along with Robert Plant on “Battle Of Evermore,” bring back Maggie Bell to sing vocal abrasives with Rod Stewart on “Every Picture Tells A Story,” how about a little respect for the music that was  the foundation of our lives before everybody got lost in the chatter that this connected world affords us, when the musicians were Gods and we consumed their work like manna from heaven.

Hearing this remix makes me want to lock the door with my iPhone outside, go on a drive with the music pouring out of the speakers, just immerse myself in the sound and reconnect with what once was and now that Steven Wilson has performed his magic forevermore will be.

That’s right, play this stuff for young ‘uns, they’ll get it. Because it’s crystal clear, it shows the power of players as opposed to performers, it’s a religious experience.

It’s the one minute and eleven second “So Much To Say, So Much To Give” that’s my personal favorite, with its sing-songy middle, like being on an amusement park ride, I remember getting up off the couch and dropping the needle again and again, before one could isolate and replay with digital.

Night after night.

Day after day.

We used to listen to our music.

There were no mobile phones, never mind iPods or Walkmen, listening was a spiritual experience, a ritual. So what you need to do is pull up this music and plug in your headphones and marvel in the sound as it washes over you.

You’ll be reminded of what once was and still is.