The Last Night Of The World – Spotify

Bruce Cockburn – Last Night Of The World

If this were the last night of the world
What would I do
What would I do that was different

Eat waffles.

I’m not supposed to eat carbs. Not the veggie kind, you know, the good-tasting kind.

And I don’t. I find that I feel so much better the following day. My nutritionist says I’m insulin-resistant, which means… The sugar has a hard time getting into the cells and when it does the cells want more and I get high and then I crash and if you’re laughing you’re probably under thirty, maybe fifty, you survive on a diet of burgers and fries and don’t think twice. But then you get old and everything everybody told you starts to come true. You don’t want to die. Instead of a glowing report from your physical your doctor calls you with concerns, assuming you go to the doctor at all, you’d be surprised who doesn’t, especially men. But then they get the really bad news. The heart attack, the stroke… My doctor says if I do what he says I’ll never die of a heart attack, I’m counting on that. Then again, I go to see him every year. You should see yours too.

And untreated, my cholesterol is sky high. Past 350. I was cruising along just fine until my mid-forties and then my genetics kicked in and I denied it but then I started on the statins, I’m on Crestor now, I think it affects my memory, but when I went for this scan two years back the ultrasound tech said one neck artery was completely clear and then she let me listen in on the second one and she said “There goes some plaque!”, it’s funny, you think you’re invulnerable and then you find out you’re not, no one here gets out alive.

And it’s been a particularly gruesome December. A good friend of mine in London had a heart attack, and he’s in his forties. I got e-mail from a friend in L.A. whose wife is struggling with cancer, with little energy after a bone marrow transplant, and he had a stroke. And then not even a month later he was rushed back to the hospital to find out he was lucky to just have a seizure. And another friend had two knees replaced as a result of an old football injury and that begs the question whether we should play football at all, the injuries catch up with you, as does the smoking and so much else you did to rebel way back when only to find out today that no one is paying attention, no one cares.

So yesterday we went for BBQ. That’s my go-to place in Vail. There’s a smokehouse at the top of the mountain. I’ve decided the brisket is the best thing on the menu and it satisfied.

But today Felice wanted to go to the waffle house.

Now they used to serve burgers there too. But no longer. I told myself I’d get chicken and waffles, like at Roscoe’s, and throw away the carbs.

I didn’t do this.

The chicken came with gravy, including sausage. We didn’t have this white sauce growing up in the northeast, nor did we have chicken fried steak, but once you venture from your domicile you find out everybody’s different, yet the same. It’s a conundrum. We’re united, but divided. We share so much, yet diverge.

And I was stunned that the chicken hit the spot.

And then I was confronted with the waffles.

They did not skimp. The waffles themselves were tiny, but there were three or four of them, more than any rational person would partake of. And since they were included, I had them loaded up. With chocolate sauce, maple syrup and peanut butter, and whipped cream, of course.

And I was just tasting when…

Bruce Cockburn’s “Last Night Of The World” started playing in my head.

Funny thing about music. It rides shotgun. Used to be we all had the same tunes in our head, we couldn’t drive up PCH without humming “Boys Of Summer,” but these days despite there being a chart what runs through our brains is oftentimes so different.

I’m sipping Flor De Cana and lime juice, it’s three a.m.

I’ve lived that life. In search of greatness. If it had alcohol in it, I’d consume it, have a few and start to rage.

Blow a fruit fly off the rim of my glass

I prefer the dirty places. The exotic places. A bit askew. Where no one told the bugs they could not cohabitate.

The radio’s playing Superchunk and the Friends of Dean Martinez

Back when those were outsider bands, before just about everything became an outsider band.

I’ve seen the flame of hope among the hopeless

That’s the story of today’s America, that’s why Trump got elected, because there’s no hope, primarily for the youth, burdened by college debt, and if they didn’t go to college at all, good luck. The youth led the sixties rebellion, they led the nineties/twenty first century tech rebellion, and now we’ve stolen their future, what are you gonna do?

When I grew up the rich were bluebloods. People who inherited their wealth yet wore chinos and Topsiders, drove old Fords and didn’t spend. Today the money is made and the people believe they’re entitled to it. After all, they killed themselves to get into Harvard, got good grades to work all night at the bank and if anybody’s gonna question their bona fides they’re gonna get an earful.

That was the straw that broke me open

The election of Donald Trump. I could have handled it if the press hadn’t called it so wrong, for eighteen months straight. Forget fake news, who you gonna believe in anymore? The elites keep trumpeting the power and veritas of the “New York Times” and I read it cover to cover but I no longer respect it the same way, because I feel it’s become unmoored, it’s unconscious of the true America, whether it be reviewing records no one cares about or being oblivious to the plight of the disadvantaged.

And the right wing bugs me, because of the attitude. Which is an in-your-face bullying, with no ground given, Fox News is a scorched-earth operation based on no reporting.

And both the left and right laud Megyn Kelly as if she were Stephen Hawking. You’re pretty and you read the news, SO WHAT?

If this were the last night of the world

Let’s hope it’s not. But it is the last night of a very bad year. Classic rock fell off a cliff, its proponents passed and eighties heroes bit the dust too.

Our nation can no longer agree on the facts, never mind what to do about them.

What would I do that was different

I decided to eat the waffles.

And I’d like to tell you they were bad. But they were strangely satisfying. Sweet and crunchy, I couldn’t stop. And I was pissed-off at myself for breaking my no-carb streak, knowing that once I fall off the wagon I have a hard time getting back on, and knowing that tomorrow when I wake up I’ll feel like crap, but for one moment, for the better part of ten minutes, in a year full of b.s., I felt good.

If this were the last night of the world
What would I do
What would I do that was different
Unless it was champagne with you

We are in this together. Some of you agree with me, some of you don’t. Some say this isn’t what you came for but everybody’s in the same situation, everybody’s got more questions than answers, if someone’s sure know that they’re a bloviating idiot. And we’ve been shocked by a world that lets us connect but leaves us without a job, noticing that our future’s been sold out.

Yet a good conversation, a few waffles, they’re enough to get us through.

So tomorrow it’ll be a brand new year. The slate will be wiped clean. We will start all over.

Educate yourself. Have an opinion. Fight for the outcome of your desire and know…

I’m no better than you, and you’re no better than me.

And the power of the individual cannot be overstated, one person can make a difference.

But it’s the little things that get us through.

 

Me eating waffles: pic.twitter.com/8UPmFQXKo6

— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) January 1, 2017

 

The thing about life is it can always get worse.

We like to believe God doesn’t give us more than we can handle, but do we even believe in God?

We believe there’s a master plan, that it all makes sense…

But it doesn’t.

This is what they don’t tell you growing up, after they say that anyone can become President. That life is an endless series of losses and the key is to keep putting one foot in front of another. Not so much to be optimistic, because bad stuff is gonna happen, but to try and jump from rock to rock, because although you might slip into the river and get wet every once in a while, even float downriver to a wholly different, unforeseen rock, even though some might never find another rock at all, they were right there next to you laughing and now they’re gone, when you do get to the next rock not only do you breathe a sigh of relief, you gain a sense of wonderment, you’ve got a whole new perspective.

And that’s what makes life worth living.

First of all, there’s touch. And sex. After all, we’re animals. Try and hug someone every day, not in a perfunctory way, but in a style more conscious, like life is hard but at least you have each other. My parents never touched me growing up, could be a fifties thing, I don’t know, and I struggle with flesh on flesh, but I do know when done right touch roots me, and you.

Second, there’s art. And let’s put nature in that same category. I was out in a miserable snowstorm the other day and I never felt so alive. Like it was just me, the trees and the sky. It’s when you’re most alone that you feel most at peace, assuming you can forgo the anxiety of being disconnected forever.

And in art there’s books and movies and music and painting and sculpture and when they’re done right, they make us feel so not alone, they reflect our humanity back upon us. And it’s hard to do this. Not only in terms of skill, but to let go of precepts and create via your inner tuning fork, what we feel inside. Too much of what is called “art” today is pandering pabulum. And we know the difference. It’s like “Pulp Fiction” versus the latest “Star Wars.” As in how did Tarantino come up with that? Kinda like “Sgt. Pepper”… What were they smoking, where were they at that the Beatles decided to cut a concept album with no singles. Can you imagine that today? Katy Perry or Taylor Swift? I’m gonna drop an album with no anchors, with no obvious radio tracks, because I believe it will resonate with my audience. Won’t be done. And when you fall down the rabbit hole of your favorite book… Mine this year was “The Nix,” which was heavily hyped but got on no best lists I’ve seen. Yet, from the protagonist playing World of Warcraft to navigating a world of protest and family…I not only went along for the ride, it illuminated part of my own life, woke up memories of the sixties, and proved that alienation is universal, so often I feel so alone but when I reveal what I feel others resonate. And speaking of being alone and resonating, my favorite album of the year was Emitt Rhodes’s “Rainbow Ends.” While all his contemporaries are getting plastic surgery to look younger than their audience, while studio trickery makes them sound like they’re twenty five, Mr. Rhodes appeared warts and all telling his truth, looking every bit his age, overweight with a somewhat ruined voice. If that’s not a beacon for truth…try listening to the lyrics, which reflect adult concepts, is anybody in the arts willing to be an adult? And to hear melodic changes in a world of beats is a revelation.

Third, there’s children. I ain’t got none, but their sense of amazement always tickles me. I don’t envy the youth, I was young once and I hated it, you recover from injuries so much faster but you’ve got no clue as to what is going on, you’re constantly going down blind alleys. But when I see a kid experience something for the first time, it makes me smile more than them.

Fourth… You never know how it’s going to turn out. Kinda like Trump getting elected. Everybody missed it. You want to live to see what happens. And it’s all not bad, but it’s all not good. But experiencing it is a thrill. And, if you can, get involved, because there’s great satisfaction in midwifing an event, being part of a team.

Yes, you see, there’s plenty to live for.

Meanwhile, you’re gonna get cancer. Or be in a car accident. So much bad stuff is gonna happen it might overwhelm you. Do you drive with a football helmet on? Do you refuse to navigate in bad weather? You can try and beat the odds, but chances are you’re gonna slip in the bathroom and break something. And never forget most car accidents happen close to home, where you drive most, so wear your seatbelt. I know, I know, we live in the land of the free. But please make an effort to preserve your health. Please stop smoking. Please eat sugar in moderation. Then again, the corporate industrial complex is doing its best to kill us. Whether it be the corn growers or Purdue Pharma with OxyContin…

The truth is all of us are going to die.

But believe me, you’d rather it be later than sooner.

I don’t know what happened with Princess Leia. She had a long history of drug abuse. Was she high on the plane, mixing too much stuff? Or was her time just up. It happens. But dead is dead, and she’s gone now, and leaves a daughter, siblings and…

Her mother.

She just couldn’t take it.

Of course that might not be true. I’m not a doctor, and the stunning thing is how little medical doctors do know (although more than you scoring at home, believing western medicine is crap, believing every alternative fairytale that comes down the pike, believe me, you’ll want to go to the hospital when you have a heart attack, but I get it, you feel powerless in today’s society and you want to believe you have control over something so… But please don’t be one of those selfish non-vaccinators. Because they put the rest of us at risk. And now I’ve managed to piss at least some of you off. But that’s life, it’s astounding we get along at all. We’re each uniquely different, with our own opinions. Feel free to express yours. But don’t force me to agree. And vice versa. Dismiss anything I have to say, it’s okay with me, I’m thrilled that you’re reading this at all.)

So, her daughter dies before her and…

That’s something you don’t want to have happen. You don’t want to outlive your children.

And Debbie Reynolds has a stroke and dies. Causing more heartache amongst her descendants.

Like I said. Life sucks.

But the comedians have it right. When bad things happen, even death, you’ve got to crack jokes. You’ve got to laugh at the human condition. You’ve got to keep your attitude, your mood, from bottoming out. Because you want to be here when it gets better.

2016 has been a horrible year. Too many of our heroes have died.

And we’re next, sorry to say. It’s coming sooner than you think. So while you’re still here…

Know that despite never getting rich, never marrying a famous actor, never winning the Nobel Prize, chances are you’re just as happy as those who did, maybe even more so. Money eases one’s pathway in life, especially compared to not having enough. But the world runs on people. Conversation. Intimacy. Touch.

So, I’m with you on this. Too much death. The holidays are supposed to be upbeat, but it’s been an endless downer.

And who knows what January 20th will bring.

But you’ve got a front row seat for the greatest movie ever made. It’s called life. And it’s participatory. And when you play, you risk losing. But to be in the game…

It’s kind of like baseball. The best are out two-thirds of the time.

But when you hit it over the fence, when you score the winning run…

It’s the greatest feeling in the world.

1. Play the long game.

If you need to succeed immediately, if you can’t live in flux, if you can’t handle anxiety, you’re not going to achieve your goals. First, of course, you must have a goal. But then you must stick to it. Keep it in your vision. Revisit it at night, while you’re lying in bed. Stay focused. Eyes on the prize.

But that does not mean you can be lax along the way. The Republicans had a decades-long plan to take over the judiciary system, called the Federalist Society, no one even knew what it was for most of its existence, never mind be concerned with it. Peter Thiel was pissed at Gawker and took years to execute his plan of destruction. I’m not saying you can’t forgive, that you can’t forget, but if you want something badly enough, chances are you want it more than your opponent, and when you stay the course, line up your ducks, you can topple your enemy when they least expect it, when their defenses are down, when they’ve got no other options.

2. You’re in control of your own behavior.

You get to decide how much intensity you want to employ. He who just runs on instinct loses in the end. Sometimes it pays to raise your voice, sometimes it pays to be nice and civil. Experiment, learn what works, then you can employ the ammunition in your arsenal to the greatest effect.

3. Intimidation can work.

Some people are wimps. If you stand up to them, they’ll fold. If you’re barking all the time, always mouthing off at 10, you’re gonna be labeled a hothead and be ignored, funny how one’s reputation spreads. But if you’ve got a silver bullet, wherein you get on your high horse and employ a scorched-earth policy, you’ll be stunned how effective it can be. Especially after you’ve played nice.

4. Don’t be afraid to get intense and raise your voice.

People sense weakness. If you’re not willing to hang it all out, you won’t win in the end.

5. Lull your suspect into thinking nothing’s wrong.

This is one of the most effective games to play. Along the lines of keeping your enemies even closer than your friends. When people let their guard down they reveal weaknesses that can be used against them.

6. Or keep him on high alert.

You can push someone over the edge with anxiety, with paranoia, if they think you’re out to get them, oftentimes you don’t have to do anything at all and they’ll blow themselves up, they’ll fold.

7. Vary pressure.

The mark of an amateur is someone who has to win all the time, who only has one note and plays it again and again and again. Most of the greatest business people can be extremely charming. They can have a good time. They can be the straw that stirs the drink. But never forget this is business and you’re not their friend. As you move up the power totem pole the players have fewer and fewer confidantes. They’re playing so many games that the only people they can confide in and trust are their spouse and a trusted lieutenant or two, and like in a crime novel, they know all about attorney/client privilege and how and when to utilize it.

8. Know how to lose.

He who wins all the time is a target. You can’t survive if everybody gangs up on you. So be willing to concede now and again, especially on the small stuff.

9. Don’t ask for too much.

Your goals must be realistic. He who wants the sun and the moon will find they get a reputation and others will try and take them down for sport.

10. Be a student of the game.

We’re all just people. And we’re the most fascinating thing on this planet. People are vain and insecure, they need to tell secrets. Just ask questions, it’s amazing what people will tell you (which you may be able to use against them at a later date). Analyze the weaknesses of your opponents. Sure, this can pertain to their business, but more often it pertains to their personality. Life is high school. We’re all in it together. The cheerleaders get fat and the football captain ends up a grease monkey. No one forgets where you came from and no one forgets who you are. Shine too brightly and you’ll incite contempt, which is why winners are always self-deprecating. Be solid and have allies. You’ll be surprised how many people will aid you in your quest by virtue of their antagonism towards your opponent. Chances are what bugs you in a person bugs someone else too. Unless you’re the defective one, the person who is propping up their image with no self-knowledge whatsoever. Then you’re the mark, then you’re ready to be brought down.

CONCLUSION

You can work for the man or you can be the man. It’s your choice. And in today’s world, it can be a woman or a man. I’ll argue females can play the game even better than males. Their culture is different, it’s about being a member of the group, whereas men are always fighting for their place in the pecking order. A man has a hard time quashing his feelings, a woman can hide her feelings in furtherance of her goal. Men are just putty in women’s hands. Women can be nice and then…

Not that winning is only about business. The key is if you’re pissed, if you’re angry, if you desire a certain conclusion, there’s a good chance you can achieve it, just as long as you don’t go home and lie in bed and cry woe is me and instead get down to strategizing.

This is not about formal education. And sure, business yields experience, as does an MBA, but not as much as living your life every day. You are extremely powerful, if you just play the game, if you stay the course.

And the game never changes. So as you get older, you become wiser, you can achieve more. The young might have their youth, but you’ve got the smarts.

If you’re determined to employ them.

And the winner is…

ELLE KING!

With an honorable mention to Bob Seger, but his performance had so much more gravitas at the Glenn Frey memorial at the Forum, an insider affair that got no publicity but was the highlight of the year, because when it comes to rock and roll, it’s a club, and the public only gets glimpses, that’s part of its magic.

And speaking of magic… If you weren’t touched by the President singing along to “Fire and Rain” or the many imitations/quotations of Al Pacinoisms in the culture, you’re not an American.

But the truth is you are.

How did we get here? Where money means everything and artists are second class citizens, bitching about getting paid and playing to the man?

It didn’t used to be this way, and it won’t be this way for long, because the truth is, America runs on art. All the rest is just trappings. You make bank so…you can go on StubHub and overpay to sit in the front row at the show. You go home after a long day and you fire up Netflix or HBO for soul-fulfilling sustenance. It’s those who hang it out the farthest who we revere, but too many are not hanging it out at all, or if they are, they keep telling us about it when any true artist knows you let the work speak for itself.

Now the problem with this extravaganza is it’s a television show. It’s got to hit all the notes, even showing Les Moonves and his wife on camera, as if they were stars who deserve attention. Didn’t Tommy Mottola kill this paradigm in the nineties? The suits belong in the back row, they should be thrilled to be inside the building, but too often today they think they’re the artist, that they’re responsible, and that’s just plain wrong.

Having Hootie (and yes, I know his name is Darius Rucker) sing James Taylor is like hiring the Backstreet Boys to sing Prince. Huh? Come on, he was the only one available?

But no, they needed someone of color. They needed a woman singing. But sometimes the best person for the job is the one who was there when it all went down. Like Seger. This is a show for old farts, why don’t you let the old farts play, the kids don’t care anyway. But no, the producers have to skew young. Kings Of Leon doing “Take It Easy” was akin to getting Jana Kramer to fete Patsy Cline. Come on, at least the backup band in the JT tribute featured Kootch and Leland Sklar. Let the old folks shine, their time is almost done.

Like watching Pacino in all those movies. Before videotape, when you had to go to the theatre to be in the know and we did. It was a national religion, going to the flicks, and it all wasn’t blockbusters, then again, “Star Wars” and “The Towering Inferno” sounded the death knell for the movie business. Because when big bucks are available, why go for the small ones? Don’t tell the record label you can make them a hundred thousand, they’re not interested, but ten million? They’d rather lose seven figures in pursuit, or die tryin’.

So…

James Taylor has been hiding in plain sight. Funny how they’re here and then they’re gone. You can see him every summer. But at some point he’ll exit this mortal coil and that drive from Stockbridge to Boston will be damn near unbearable, because of the tears in my eyes.

And so many of the song choices on this show were lame. They’re being feted for their talent, at least use the songs they wrote, they’ve got plenty of hits. I mean come on, “How Sweet It Is”? Sing that when you induct Marvin Gaye. Or Holland/Dozier/Holland. Sure, it was a hit, sure, the public knows it, but how about something with gravitas, James Taylor’s specialty. This is your moment to shine, to deliver, can’t you take a risk?

But I was happy to hear Garth Brooks sing “Shower The People”…

The President didn’t know this one, nor did most in attendance, they were not singing along, but to those scoring at home, who know this number, this was a highlight.

You can play the game
And you can act out the part
Though you know it wasn’t written for you

This is the national scourge, people living according to their head, not their heart. All this derision of arts majors. Hell, I majored in art. We need people to soothe our souls, something an engineer can’t do, certainly not a banker.

You can run but you cannot hide
This is widely known
And what you plan to do with your foolish pride
When you’re all by yourself alone

Everybody’s fake, artifice rules. Try being the real you, you’ll be stunned at the results.

Once you tell somebody the way that you feel
You can feel it beginning to ease
I think it’s true what they say about the squeaky wheel
Always getting the grease

The world runs on communication. Which works best with honesty. Speak your truth, be vulnerable, the response will overwhelm you. We’re just people and we’re looking to connect, we’ll accept you, flaws and all, if you just let us know how you truly feel.

As for Mavis Staples…

I saw her open for Bonnie Raitt and she closed me, she’s still got it.

And the video package showing the stadium gig with her singing “Respect Yourself,” and the interactions with Martin Luther King… You don’t do it for the adulation, you don’t do it for the money, you do it because you have something to say, you need to stand for something.

And Elle King stood for taking advantage of her moment.

Most of the performers were going through the motions, just another gig on the endless road. But Elle knew this was her only chance, to triumph on a national stage.

AND SHE DID!

She reached down deep and gave it everything she’s got. And you couldn’t help but watch her. She doesn’t look like a model, but she’s more desirable than any of the stringbeans. Because she’s got the music in her. Kiki Dee had that one right.

People forget that it’s called “show business.” Performance is a key element. If you can’t rise to the occasion, if you can’t win us over, if you can’t get us into the palm of your hand, practice a ton more or get out of the way.

As for Martha Argerich…

I had no idea who she was.

But her passion and dedication impressed me. Not everybody gets to play in the stadium. You think it’s about worldwide domination, but really, it’s about appealing to a tribe. Better to win small than place or show in the arena. Because people know, word spreads, and you get honored, as Ms. Argerich was here.

And then came Eagles.

They called them “The Eagles,” which Henley hates, but he wasn’t in control, it wasn’t his show.

And the truth is the Eagles, pardon me, were Glenn Frey’s show. Henley wouldn’t have made it without him. Glenn had the vision, the drive, he was the coach, and now he’s gone. Oh, he had a very good ride, but it ended too soon.

So, you’ve got three old men sitting there waiting to be impressed and…

Oh, the tales these guys could tell. From back when rock was king, when music ruled the world, when everything in the rock star handbook was codified. Believe me, CEOs don’t want to be Pitbull, they want to be Don Henley or Glenn Frey or Joe Walsh… Going from town to town, getting high, getting laid, as their manager trails with hundred dollar bills to make sure any faux pas is made right. Furthermore, there were no cameras, it was your word versus theirs.

And Henley tells the tale of being deep in the wilderness and having a native point at him and say HOTEL CALIFORNIA! Believe me, that’s more powerful than anything Donald Trump has ever done. Write the right song and you’re immortal.

Like “Take It Easy”…

Kings Of Leon, ugh.

But even worse was Juanes doing “Hotel California. Why don’t you get Timothy B. Schmit to sing at the Latin Grammys? No, that wouldn’t do, Timothy B. has got too good a voice!

Fun to see the interplay between Steuart Smith and Steve Vai, but the producers took all the air out of the number. This was an epoch-defining track. They made it a ditty.

As for the finale of “Life In The Fast Lane”…

It resembled nothing so much as one of those Grammy telecast ending clusterf….. Give me one star, not ten. Give me one Elle King, not a parade of people who’ve got nothing at risk.

And, let’s not forget Vince Gill… Whose curious performance nailed it, but was sans gesticulation. Maybe Gill is on his way to being a national treasure, albeit one who is overexposed, but I’ve got to give him credit here, his performance worked.

But not as much as Bob Seger’s.

Seger was the only genuine star on the stage. Sure, Bonnie Raitt was there, but we see her all the time. But Seger??? His manager even keeps him off the internet! So when he shows up…

Now the song that should have been sung was “Desperado,” but still…

The overhead shot of the assembled multitude clapping in unison showed not only the power of the Eagles, but the power of MUSIC! To reach us, to unite us, to elate us, to make life worth living.

But that song was written in a different era. When rock stars were kings, as rich as anybody in America, and lived without limits. As for sponsors… The Eagles still don’t have any sponsors, they’ve yet to sell out, and they own the biggest selling album of all time!

Think about that.

Glenn Frey did. It was part of the master plan he delineated all night long to Don Henley in that Washington, D.C. hotel room, waiting for Linda Ronstadt’s opening club gig.

Now I don’t want to sound like the Nazi in the “Producers,” saying this show was not rock and roll…

BUT IT WASN’T!

Rock and roll is a state of mind, an attitude, something you experience not only at the show, but running down the road with the wind in your hair with your favorite song blasting out of the dashboard, with maybe a Deadhead sticker on the bumper.

But now it’s a Prius, not a Cadillac.

And so many of the younger generation don’t own automobiles at all.

But they know greatness when they see it.

This Kennedy Center Honors telecast was not great. Because they did not shoot high enough, they did not take enough risks, by playing to everybody you miss out connecting with the individual.

But the people they honored?

Paragons of limit-testing. None of them played it safe and all of them won.

Let them be a beacon to you.

Because unless you’re willing to risk everything…

You’re gonna get nothing.

Do you know what it’s like to show up at the Troubadour as an unknown, to try and establish a career out of whole cloth?

Gettin’ robbed
Gettin’ stoned
Gettin’ beat up
Broken boned
Gettin’ had
Gettin’ took
I tell you folks
It’s harder than it looks

That’s right, it’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n roll.

And the guy who sang those words didn’t make it.

And Glenn Frey is gone. And the aforementioned Marvin Gaye too.

But when we put on their records…

We go to Carolina in our minds with a tequila sunrise in our hand and if you listen to the music…

It’ll take you there.