Smoke Break – Spotify

Smoke Break – YouTube

If only the lyrics were written by Jason Isbell.

Who do we blame for turning country into rock and roll? My vote is Robert John “Mutt” Lange, who turned the tiny-talented yet beautiful singer Shania Twain into the biggest star in country music. In one fell swoop Mutt performed the same magic he did for Def Leppard, he turned conventional sales records on their head, suddenly the ceiling was lifted, turns out there was lot more money in pop metal and a lot more money in country music than anybody ever fathomed.

Country started to resemble nothing so much as the rock and roll of the seventies, the corporate version, laden with hooks and generic lyrics, but this time about babies, religion and trucks.

But not exclusively. If you ever listened to Miranda Lambert’s “Gunpowder & Lead” you’d be immediately enraptured, by a woman who had the music in her, who was willing to tell her own story, evidence more girl power than all the popsters combined.

Country’s got the biggest stars who last the longest, singing a palatable sound with all the elements of classic rock, and yet it gets pooh-poohed constantly, the cognoscenti believe it’s hillbilly music for the ignorant.

But it’s not.

True, the lyrics can be crap.

But the sound, OH THAT SOUND!

“Smoke Break” is Carrie Underwood’s new single. And despite Kelly Clarkson’s hits, Carrie’s career will burn brighter and longer, she’s a bigger star. Sure, she’s a face for others, despite getting a bit of songwriting credit, but those she fronts…they’re the best money can buy!

This is how it works… If you’re a songwriter, a studio musician, the best way to get paid is by working with a country star. So Luke Bryan and Carrie Underwood, they get the benefit of the best.

Yes, Luke Bryan, whose new album is defeating Dr. Dre’s on the chart. Bringing into question whether we live in a hip-hop nation, or a country one.

I distantly knew Carrie Underwood was prepping a new project, but I had no idea she’d dropped a single. But when I cued up my “Country Hits” playlist on Spotify yesterday I was immediately confronted with a sound that’s filled a zillion arenas. That’s right, rock and roll. With big guitars playing riffs that do nothing so much as make you want to break out your air guitar.

The intro is quiet, almost plodding, but soon thereafter Carrie comes in. (Not that the beat is not solid. In a beat-driven universe the bottom is evidenced so dramatically in country music.)

She’s a small town, hard-workin’ woman just tryin’ to make a livin’
Workin’ three jobs, feeding four little mouths in a run-down kitchen

Could almost be a John Prine song, a set-up for a view into a tiny life from which we can extract the bones of everyman.

But then…

When you never take nothing and doing nothing but giving
It’s hard to be a good wife and a good mom and a good Christian

Make me puke. This lowest common denominator pandering is what is holding country music back. The people involved think the audience can only tolerate crap like this, that you can’t go deeper and be chiaroscuro, can’t show life as shades of gray instead of black and white. Nobody is that good, especially the country audience. What could have been three-dimensional ends up as cardboard. As for the religious reference…utterly superfluous and offensive to anyone who is not of the faith, that’s another thing I hate about country music, the endless fealty paid to God and the values that the nation at large is so busy trying to tear down, like the Confederate flag.

But oh what a chorus, oh what electric guitars.

On one hand it’s utterly generic, but it’s oh-so-POWERFUL!

If you ever liked rock you’ll be hooked.

Forget the people in skinny jeans who can only bless that which appeals to few, they’ve never been more irrelevant. Hell, they make Pitchfork look mainstream. But for the rest of us, who can poke fun at ourselves and are not worried about our image…we can admit “Smoke Break” sounds GREAT!

So this weekend we’ll be subjected to the antics of one Miley Cyrus, who can get our attention but has a problem selling tickets, while the mainstream press fawns over the youth-culture train-wreck known as the MTV Video Music Awards, not questioning why MTV has authority to still have a show, seeing as how it no longer shows videos, which have sunk in popularity anyway, they’re just the images behind the tunes on YouTube. But there you have it, the press would rather trump the momentary as opposed to the lasting. There’s nothing sexy in the story of Carrie Underwood.

But there’s plenty of sex in her.

And in the sound of “Smoke Break.”

If it doesn’t oil your loins, if it doesn’t get you ready for action, you’re too uptight to do it.

That’s right, sex and rock and roll are intertwined, they’re two sides of the same coin.

And they run this nation of ours.

The remaining jukeboxes feature AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long.”

It’s country acts that sell out stadiums. Hell, it’s where Taylor Swift got her start.

But it gets no respect.

Then again, with lyrics like this I’m not sure it deserves any.

But if Nashville could elevate the product, know that the way you succeed today is to deliver the unexpected, titillate us, illustrate the way we really live, warts and all, it could mow down pop overnight.

Because the truth is we live in a rock and roll nation.

But too many people have not gotten the message that the music has migrated from NYC, L.A., SF and Seattle to Nashville. Where jeans rule, and playing a mean guitar still counts.

It all works, except for the words. They’ve got to work on that.

P.S. Before you get on your high horse and dismiss this music before listening to it, know that the producer Jay Joyce started off producing Tim Finn, and has John Hiatt, Patty Griffin and Cage the Elephant credits too. You see the world is not as black and white as you think.

P.P.S. A co-writer of this song, Chris DeStefano, has written for Kelly Clarkson too, once again demonstrating the cross-pollination in music. Radio and media want to establish walls without bridges, but the truth is the audience is mashing it all up. Which is why so many country acts are rapping…but that’s another story.

Talk about forgotten men. Brad Delp offs himself and years later he’s just a footnote in the history of rock and roll, his crime being a member of the most successful new band of 1976/7, which burst on the scene with an album so perfect, so pristine, so hook-laden, that the cognoscenti could only lambaste it.

And I kind of get it. The fall of ’76’s airwaves were populated by a song so seductive that it almost seemed manipulative. “More Than A Feeing” was the most beautiful girl in school tapping you on the shoulder to hit on you. Could this be real? An apparition? The result of plastic surgery? It had to be fake, otherwise how could it be so GOOD!

And unlike Mr. Delp, his work on “More Than A Feeling” remains. The initial impact of Boston, it sustains on classic rock airwaves. Then again, other than the Beatles and maybe the Stones, the music of the pre-MTV stars is already starting to fade in the rearview mirror, but not in the minds of those who were there, stuff like “More Than A Feeling” can never be forgotten.

But it was not my favorite track on the album, I can even argue it was not even the best, I’d reserve that for “Foreplay/Long Time,” but my favorite is “Hitch A Ride.”

Yes, I bought the album. I didn’t love “More Than A Feeling,” the curious thing is I appreciate it more today, but I needed to go deeper, I needed to know what all the hubbub was about.

And that’s how I discovered “Foreplay/Long Time,” a modern day Led Zeppelin track, going from electric to acoustic and then taking you over the waterfall. It still gets me high every time I hear it, especially with the anticipation built by the instrumental intro.

“Hitch A Ride” is on the second side.

But it’s really more about the first side, it took a long time for listeners to get to the second, because the eighteen minute three track first was so damn perfect. “Peace Of Mind” was bookended by “More Than A Feeling” and “Foreplay/Long Time,” and one could argue that’s all you needed, when you put your Garrard or Dual or BIC on endless repeat, sitting stoned on your couch, looking out the window, contemplating how wonderful this life is.

And really, the flip side is not as good. You mostly hear “Rock & Roll Band,” with its reference to Cape Cod, if you hear anything at all these days, and “Smokin'” got airplay too, hell, every track on the LP ended up on the radio, and Delp’s closing composition, “Let Me Take You Home Tonight,” even got more recognition than my favorite, but stuck right smack dab in the middle of side two is “Hitch A Ride,” the song that probably goes through my head most these days, really.

Day is night in New York City

Yup, that’s what my brain sings, quietly, intimately, just like the record.

But if you’re listening to the record, there’s an acoustic intro so magical it’ll make you throw away your computer and buy a Martin if you’ve got any chops at all. Sound… Especially of an acoustic axe. It evidences humanity, just like the rest of this track.

Gonna hitch a ride
Head for the other side

I’d like to say it’s about the lyrics, but really they’re nearly irrelevant. Hell, you can scrape up the demo and find out the words were completely different. But just before the chorus, when Brad is done singing the verse, the drums come in and then there are background harmonies and the sound is so mellifluous you can do nothing but smile.

Oh yeah

Really!

Then the intro riff is played on an electric, a harbinger of what’s to come, but no one told Brad Delp, he’s still singing quietly, stuck in the groove, but when he’s through the second chorus, all hell breaks loose. Brad goes up and an organ comes in and it’s almost like you’re in ELP territory, but with a briefer solo and more melody, and then there are guitar effects and you’re coming down an aural roller coaster and then you’re taken on twists and turns by a guitar sound so exquisite you can’t believe it was caught on tape.

Eventually it all goes quiet. And then, in the spotlight, a lone electric guitar plays some notes, and then another guitar comes in and you’re marveling as they twin and you want this show to never end, you just want to live in this sound forever.

Gonna hitch a ride
Head for the other side
Leave it all behind
Never change my mind

That’s the problem with suicide, the finality. You’re here and then you’re gone. Suddenly, we can no longer hear Brad Delp’s vocals again. If only we could have showed up at his house en masse, taken him by the hand to the hospital, his life could have been saved.

Alas, this was not to be.

He was carried away for the last time.

Not that he knew this when he sang the words to “Hitch A Ride.”

But, through the magic of recording, his past work is not only etched in our brains, but on tape, in grooves, in digits, for all to hear.

Seemingly some of the best work is subtle, not looking for attention, sneaking up on you. Like Zeppelin’s “Ten Years Gone,” like Boston’s “Hitch A Ride.” You don’t get them at first, but then they become your favorites.

The problem is that Tom Scholz is a genius. And our society has no place for the personalities of people like this, with plenty of answers as well as questions, who need to do it their way, so we can be exposed to stuff so incredible that until it’s laid down it can only be heard in their heads.

Yes, Brad is great, but the less than warm Tom is the star here. His crime is one of hubris, he never said he wasn’t talented, he never suffered fools, as a result the media turned away from him.

But…

The great thing is the art remains. Long after not only Brad Delp is gone but no one cares what classic rockers have to say…

The music lives on.

Come, hitch a ride with me. I promise you’ll want to come. And when I’m gone you can sing this song in your head and remember all the great work of the past which gets little respect but was monumental. And still is.

P.S. I just pulled up the demo, “San Francisco Day,” which through sleuthing you might find too, mine is labeled “We Found It In the Trashcan, Honest!,” and in the original lyrics Brad sings…”Bury me alive with those sweet sounds.” Oh, how true that is!

Rhinofy-Hitch A Ride

The biggest story of the year is the failure of Re/code to go it alone. With the number one tech reporter on board, and a plethora of backup, it turned out no one cared, that the “Wall Street Journal” was the brand, and no one had the time, interest or inclination to go elsewhere.

This is a major shift from the era just before, where stars were kings and not only did their audiences follow them to new environs, the establishments that let them go saw their fortunes decline.

Not that every establishment is dying. Concomitant with the death of the star system comes the beefing up of institutions, because they’re the only ones who can cut through the noise.

But then there’s Viacom, so beholden to Wall Street that it missed the future. And in today’s world, once you’re one step behind, it’s not long before it’s two, three and then game over.

I remember the old days. When we all rushed to the movie theatre so we could be part of the public conversation. Can you say “Pulp Fiction”? But then films, like Viacom, became so money-driven, so inane, that adults stopped going. And now it turns out kids are burned out on the superhero flicks, and although I’d like to dig deeper into the failure of Hollywood, its eclipse by television, my only point is that films are no longer dominant. They come and go in weeks at most. Next!

Ironically, since they take so much less money and time to produce, records last longer than ever before. Those that break through. If you don’t gain traction, your record is over in a day. You do the publicity buildup and then the project is released, the media moves on to something else, and in most cases you’re ignored. Superstars are not immune to this paradigm. Their products are either instant successes or instant failures. And once something gains traction it lasts and lasts and lasts, seemingly looking for every last listener, but also a comfort to those who want life anchors, something to believe in, something that will make this fast-moving world make sense.

And there are a number of dominant musical artists. But despite the publicity, there are distinct walls around their art. People know more about Kanye West than his music. Taylor Swift is always in the news but it’s easy to avoid her tunes. And the only people who care about One Direction are the act’s fans.

It didn’t used to be this way.

“Star Wars” was an endless part of the national discussion. You had to see it in order to weigh in, and you did.

MTV was a national obsession. As was Michael Jackson. He was bigger than the Pope, but he just wanted to be known as the King of Pop.

But, no stars are this big anymore.

Except for Donald Trump.

What do we know about the Donald? He’s been in the news forever. And his fame was cemented by television. It turns out that your best chance of lasting is to be a part of the mix, the national discussion, for decades. This is the exact opposite of how today’s media corporations play. They’re always looking for the new, which they end up finding out is evanescent. This is what oldsters complain about when they say there is no artist development. They remember when artists were nurtured, took chances, went from caterpillars to butterflies. There was a whole arc in the story, which is so different from getting a fresh face to work with the usual suspects. After all, Taylor Swift is a function of the usual suspect known as Max Martin. So, ultimately, there’s little there there.

Not that you can say this. Not because you’re worried she’ll write a song about you. Her squeaky-clean new image won’t allow her to do this. But because people need something to believe in. And right now some believe in Taylor Swift.

But many more believe in the Trump show. You don’t even have to believe in Trump himself, but the show is amazing.

First there’s the self-immolation. Akin to the rock stars of yore. “I’ll do what I want to and bear the brunt of the consequences.” You’re supposed to bow to the powers-that-be and apologize. Instead Trump doubles-down.

Then there’s the burning of cash. The loss of “The Apprentice” and beauty pageant telecasts. No one does this. As Taylor Swift invites critics to her house and bakes cookies for nobodies, the Donald is out pissing people off. We haven’t had that spirit here since 1969, and it’s truly refreshing.

Furthermore, Trump assumes you’re smart in a world where everybody is assumed to be dumb. That you can parse the issues and get sarcasm and realize that the front is not the reality. In a nation where you have to get someone to say yes before you can have sex on a college campus, truly SAY yes, as if kids are sexually confident and experienced enough to say anything, Trump claims that political correctness is b.s. Kind of like how Jerry Seinfeld says it’s too risky to play college campuses. Isn’t it interesting that we’re in a heyday of comedy, it seems comedians are the only ones other than Trump who can state the truth.

And Trump reveals the media to be an empty suit over-invested in its importance. Bloviators on TV and in print said his comments about McCain would kill him, it did not. And then there was Megyn Kelly and the Latinos and…

Megyn Kelly… Are you beautiful? The beautiful are one step behind the rich in power. And what Roger Ailes does not realize is the average person will never be rich and never be beautiful and has contempt for the personages with these qualities. I know, it’s a conundrum, we worship the rich and beautiful too, but only to a point. And now, with social media, we’re willing to dig in and make our point.

Speaking of social media, its importance has been overstated. What it does best is spread a story, and it should be championed for that. As for opinion… If you’re listening you’re tone-deaf. It doesn’t matter what people say online, in most cases few are paying attention, in all cases, the story blows over. Is anybody even mentioning Trump’s comments about McCain anymore?

So where does this leave the listener, the watcher, the average person?

Overwhelmed. There’s too much info and too much fakery. As a result there’s a run to mass, a rallying around institutions. So, the “New York Times” is bigger than ever, forget the financials, it’s the news king, it’s the only one with boots on the ground, the TV networks may have faces, but they’ve got no reporters. And on television there’s HBO and then also-rans. Not only has HBO run above the pack in talent/shows, it’s innovating first, allowing standalone subscriptions. A show on HBO gets scorched earth publicity, one on any other outlet is on its own. And will be canceled unless it makes instant inroads. As for movies, they’re moribund, like music, both playing to small audiences while the rest tune out. Sure, people watch old movies and listen to old music, but getting them to partake of new stuff is incredibly difficult, because the providers no longer understand the star system. For a while, the superhero was the franchise, this summer proves otherwise. As for music…it’s
lost the plot to the degree most people are unfamiliar with what the industry considers to be stars.

Then again, music festivals are burgeoning, based on the concept that the fan is the star. Which is another change we’ve seen, everybody believes he’s important. But everybody is not a star, and this will only get worse. Not only is there no middle class financially, there will no longer be middle class stars, because people want to pay attention to one thing and one thing only.

Like Donald Trump.

Forget winning the nomination. What we’ve got now is a movie that the media loves covering, because the people can’t stop watching. Every week there’s a new story, a new twist and turn. There’s fresh data built upon a base of longevity. Furthermore, it’s all about confounding the system, and we’ve become paralyzed and overwhelmed by the system.

Change comes quicker than ever before. Not only did we move from Napster to iTunes to Spotify in little over a decade, but BlackBerry and MySpace tanked along the way. Meaning, not only is the long tail dead, but so is the viral video, rising above based on quality, creating a profitable niche and growing. Today, if you’re not in bed with major media, you’re never going to make it. You can cut a record without a major label, but you cannot be heard without its help.

But the labels are shooting too low. Into nooks and crannies as opposed to the stratosphere. A ubiquitous act will come along and blow it all away. Adele was a harbinger, but there will be more, like the Beatles and the British Invasion, stuff that appeals to many and sounds little like the pre-’64 pop dominating the airwaves today.

As for film… It’s over, no matter what they say. Everybody’s got a theatre at home and the only reason to go out is…to go out. Window/schmindow, the movies are only a couple of years and a couple of changes behind the music industry. Instant access, baby, in your own home. Day and date release.

TV is already imploding. The great contraction is upon us. There will be fewer channels and fewer shows.

As for YouTube, that’s a sideshow, kind of like social media. Evanescent niches equivalent to drive-bys. Because there’s no there there. What triumphs is quality, built over years, exhibited by the usual suspect powers. Which is why Spotify and YouTube are now all about breaking acts, to ensure their power.

So, if you’re behind the scenes, know that we’re playing a game of musical chairs. There will be a limited number of media outlets with all the eyeballs. And if you’re starting today, it’s tougher than ever before. And eyeballs are not everything, longevity is. So, the vast wasteland known as the “Huffington Post” is time-stamped. Buzzfeed probably too. Because to survive in this new world you need not only the outlet, but the stars. And if you can name one on the HuffPo other than its self-promoting title character, I’m stunned.

Not only does Universal Music make stars, but so does the “New York Times.” And Fox. And what we’re learning is the public is demanding a new kind of star, more akin to the old. One whose fame is based on talent and experience, and one who is willing to say not what is expedient, but what he or she believes.

Why did Amy Winehouse become so famous…because she said NO to rehab! Might have killed her, but in a world where there’s seemingly a rehab for everything, based on the fiction that any malady can be cured in 30 days, we gravitate to those saying to take the other direction, to speak the truth.

And right now all we’ve got is Donald Trump. We’re all talking about him. We’d like to talk about someone else too, we’re hungry to talk about other stars. But so far, the system has been unable to deliver them.

It’s a change in character. It’s a change in what is pushed. It’s the story of the teens.

AND IT’S HAPPENING NOW!

Tomorrow is the 25th Anniversary of a tragic day. On that day, 25 years ago…a helicopter went down traveling from Alpine Valley to Chicago, post a legendary show that featured Eric Clapton, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Buddy Guy, Jimmie Vaughan and Robert Cray. Stevie Ray Vaughan was on that helicopter, and therefore will be a big topic of conversation, radio tributes and the like.

There were three others on that helicopter, bodyguard Nigel Brown, tour manager Colin Smythe and legendary agent Bobby Brooks. My heart goes out to the loved ones of Nigel, Colin and Stevie. But I wanted August 27th to be more than an reminder of a sad day; for me it is really about Bobby.

There are few legacies in the music business…even the greatest of the great become footnotes as the generations pass…most label execs today don’t really know who Walter Yetnikoff, Mo Ostin, or Joe Smith were or what they accomplished, great managers like Dee Anthony, Peter Grant, David Krebs and Steve Leber are rarely discussed, groundbreaking promoters like Bill Graham, Cecil Corbett, Jack Boyle and Jules Belkin are not mentioned; and even Frank Barsalona, who invented the profession that is the modern day agent goes unknown to this generation. (Forgive me for all the names I could have and should have included).

Bobby was 34 when he died. By most measures, he was just starting in the business. Yet his memorial was so big it was held at the Universal Amphitheatre with over 3000 in attendance. How does such a young man have that much impact on an industry?

Bobby was special in a totally unique way…and I would be heartbroken if this anniversary passed without some acknowledgment and insight into this wonderful soul.

He grew up in New Jersey, found music in the late sixties, and went to St. John’s in the early seventies. He was the college concert chairman, and all he ever wanted to do was book bands. I met him at a college convention in 1976, was amazed at how quickly he made friends, how much he knew about the business and the music, and how badly he wanted to be a part of it. His passion was both inspiring and overwhelming. He LOVED music, especially live music…and he would go anywhere and everywhere to see it, and nothing would keep him from working in an industry that was his calling.

Out of college in 1977, Bobby went to the mailroom at ICM. He got out of the mailroom in a matter of weeks, and was made an agent in less than a year. In 1987, he was the fifth agent to join CAA’s music department…and was a critical component to CAA music’s early explosive growth.

You might be thinking, so what.

But Bobby was one of a kind. When you first met him, you thought, “Who is this nerdy guy, with the big horn-rimmed glasses?” Yet, he had a unique ability to befriend everyone…not just artists, managers, and executives…but every assistant, every security guard, every roadie, every person in a box office…he knew and remembered all of them, embraced them, made them laugh, interacted with them…and in turn every one of them would bend over backwards to help him and support him. He loved music, and so could talk about songs, songwriters, producers, and when and where records were recorded. And the artists loved him for that! His clients included, Eric Clapton, Jackson Browne, Kenny Loggins, America and Crosby, Stills and Nash (and so many more). All selling out arenas, and amphitheatres, and all benefiting from Bobby’s vision, and embrace of their talents.

He had a passion for the artist and the art, and knew how to express it in the most sincere way. He was never selling you; because he was always so enthusiastic that you felt like you were being let in on something great.

Bobby had a wickedly, devilish sense of humor, that would allow him to disarm any situation, unwinding the most complicated problem, while making you blush and laugh out loud. At the same time, he was kind and giving and always, always a loyal friend.

He brought a sense of joy, childish innocence and awe to his job…as he stood backstage at a show, he would comment on how he could not believe he was there, and that he would pay to have the job. Were he alive today, he would be running a major agency, have a client list that would be the envy of all, would be making everyone laugh (CEOs, young executives and parking attendants alike), and he would be at every concert, every festival, and every awards show in a bit of awe that he was in this business. Because despite the embrace and success, he was never quite sure he belonged.

The memorial at Universal was a who’s who of the music industry as well as countless people whom no one would recognize- because Bobby touched them all. Graham Nash and Jackson Browne sang, and tributes from the heart poured out from numerous speakers. It was one of the saddest days I will ever know, and yet it was a celebration of a man who touched so many lives with simple acts of kindness, recognition, follow-up, love and friendship. And therein lies what is so special and unique about Bobby, HE CARED!

There are so many great and funny stories to tell, I will leave it to others to share theirs.

I don’t expect the newer generations to care much about the person (though I wish they would, history is so important). But, it is my hope it that my dear friend, Bobby Brooks, will remind people that reveling in what you do, embracing all those around you, and loving the art and the artist, can make for a very special life. A life we honor today, 25 years after it was taken too soon.

I miss you my friend!