I can’t remember a thing Hillary Clinton said.

We’ve seen this movie before, when Arnold Schwarzenegger ran against Gray Davis, the lovable Terminator/Twin against the career politician/policy wonk. It was no contest, Arnold won.

And we went on a misadventure wherein California’s steam was picked up by Texas, because it turns out a celebrity debater might not be a good politician.

But don’t tell the public that.

Hillary is inauthentic. She’s been scrutinized so long that she’s become gun-shy. She over-prepares and thinks with her head not her heart and the truth is we’re all human beings and we relate most to those who evidence their humanity.

Hillary was a smiling robot, I thought she was gonna recite the 39 Steps.

But the Donald…

He was not what he was supposed to be, a bloviating buffoon who was going to make ill-tempered comments about his opponent. We can debate whether he appeared Presidential, but he certainly appeared reasonable.

Unless you’re a Hillary supporter.

This is a game folks. Take off your blinders, cast aside your elite degree and get into the pit and try to see what’s truly going on.

Donald Trump is telling people things are bad and he’s gonna make them better, that he cares about you.

And how does he do this?

THROUGH EXAMPLES!

There was one personal story after another, about a friend, a business colleague, a reporter, Trump seemed like a real person living in the real world.

Hillary looked like someone who lived in a bunker, surrounded by handlers, who only deigned to come out because the nation required it.

I knew Hillary was in trouble from the beginning. When she started off in a measured tone, sans emotion, and then refused to bite back at the Donald.

He was leaving himself wide open. She could have gone on the attack.

But she was not employing a rope-a-dope strategy. She never barked back, she never went for the jugular, she just kept repeating her talking points over and over and over again. It made me wish she’d done NO preparation. This debate is not an academic exercise scored by professionals, no, this is a raucous fracas scored by the public and Trump won. Because he played his game. One hiding in plain sight that no one in Clinton’s camp seemed to be aware of. He walked all over his Republican competitors and now it appears he might walk over Hillary Clinton too.

Authenticity wins in the end. Relatability. We don’t want to know how the sausage is made, just if it tastes good. And if you give us a free beer we’ll let you screw us, it’s the American Way. Give in on the small stuff and pull the wool over our eyes on the big stuff. That’s how Trump got to where he is.

Trump said America is losing and he’s a businessman who can get better deals which will aid all Americans. He said jobs were flowing across our borders and Hillary…

Didn’t respond.

Trump left himself wide open. Why did the corporations leave? How many really did? At first he said hundreds, then he said THOUSANDS! And Hillary recited her plan, boilerplate that had my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

Over and over and over again, Trump made inane, inaccurate statements and rather than delve into them, Hillary whipped out wonkish statements about how the world really works and said she’s got experience and this is her plan.

OF COURSE SHE’S GOT THE EXPERIENCE! OF COURSE SHE’D BE A BETTER PRESIDENT! BUT FIRST SHE’S GOT TO WIN!

But she can’t.

She’s like an aging rocker who thinks he can still have hits in a world dominated by Kanye. A complainer with a modicum of talent who knows it’s about being in the public eye each and every day, about owning the dialogue, about biting back at the naysayers. Clinton’s playing by nineties rules. It’s like she still hasn’t gotten over Bill losing the governorship of Arkansas.

Which is why America is the story of the young eating the old. The know-nothings who don’t know any better. Experience kills. Ideas and motivation. Look at the music industry. Techies not only decimated it, they ended up owning it. Along with the taxi industry and businesses that could not previously be fathomed.

Hillary’s out of touch. She’s so focus-grouped that she’s lost her identity.

No, you didn’t want to sit home and bake cookies. OWN IT!

The hard core Trump supporters ARE deplorables. You speak the truth and then back away, letting the press have a field day, owning the story to your detriment.

The majority of our nation is poorly educated, can’t analyze a situation and can’t separate fact from fiction. You wonder why Trump’s a contender? They’d rather see theatre than truth. Trump gives them “Star Wars,” Hillary gives them “Bambi.”

You can’t let your competitors define you.

She smiled and was even-handed so she wouldn’t appear the shark she’s been labeled.

But what helped the African-Americans gain traction and pride? Owning the “N” word. Pushing back. And if you don’t think the blacks own youth culture you don’t have a Snapchat account, you’re probably on Facebook posting pictures of your high school reunion.

The final chapter has not been written. But today the polls have Trump about even. In order for Hillary to win, she must appeal to the undecided, of which there are very few. Forget you, forget me, we’ve already made up our minds. But, if for some reason you’re unsure…

Today Trump’s offense ran right through Hillary’s defense.

Despite the brouhaha about Matt Lauer letting him slide, Trump ran right over Lester Holt too.

If Hillary’s such a fighter, she needs to PUNCH!

And only losers believe the rules apply in a knife fight.

Sending us to your website to check facts, to read about Donald’s lies?

We’re right in front of you, can’t you close us here?

If Hillary were an act, she would not get a deal. Like a Berklee graduate who knows all the notes she’d be trumped by Lil Yachty.

I want Hillary Clinton to run my government.

But she’s got no idea about show business.

And never forget, politics is show business for ugly people.

And that applies to you too Donald.

He met Mitchell Froom on LinkedIn.

His then manager said the uber-producer wouldn’t be interested, that they couldn’t afford him. Chris expected this high-powered majordomo to take matters into his own hands, that’s why you sign with the movers and shakers, their relationships, their access, but it turned out Chris made more progress by himself.

Welcome to the modern music business, where the acts do all the heavy lifting unless they’re label superstars, and the superstars make all the money and if you don’t get the big label push you can’t get significant traction.

Chris Collingwood was one half of Fountains Of Wayne, two school buddies from Williams, they made revered LPs with one big MTV hit and now they’re on semi-permanent hiatus, Chris has got to do it for himself. And he did, he cut this album with Mr. Froom and he’s now on the road promoting it.

His manager implored me to come see him Friday night at McCabe’s.

But already being booked at the Forum I grasped the chance to see him in Chris Palmeri’s backyard this afternoon.

Chris Palmeri?

I’ve got no idea either. He’s a fan, he writes for Bloomberg, I accepted the invitation, if you don’t leave the house you’ll never have a new experience.

And I didn’t know a single soul there, all thirty and fortysomething couples with kids. That’s the strange thing about music, all the focus is on the barely pubescent but the older folks have a passion…

And Chris introduced me to Tom Vickers, who started out writing for “Rolling Stone” and then ended up working for George Clinton and major labels.

Tom’s done now.

That’s the story of the baby boomers, if we’re not running it, we’re in the rearview mirror, we’re out of the loop. Tom had gone to a screening of a movie about rock critics, it’s on Hulu right now, and he said to see where these folks are today… They followed the muse and it left them on the side of the road, broke, with no direction home.

They don’t tell you this when you’re growing up.

Not in the sixties anyway. Today the kids don’t want to be left behind, they’re all like Alex Keaton on “Family Ties,” young Republicans looking to work for the man. Because if you’re not getting ahead today, you’re being left behind. Whereas back then, the music was enough.

So Chris is on tour with Squeeze, and the label paid half his tour support in merch, vinyl and CDs, they said he could make up the difference.

But Chris doesn’t want to ask.

Today you’ve got to be artist and salesman. Which is why the salesmen are triumphant. Come on, does anybody sell better than Kanye? But usually the artistic temperament is separate from sales, artists depend upon someone else, and when they’ve got to take on the mantle…

I told Chris to make it a funny story, to tell it from the stage, the truth with a twist, kinda like Tom Rush. Tom says to buy the merch so his daughter can go to college, and if people buy enough merch she won’t have to go to college! The truth is Tom does have a daughter in high school…

We’re all trying to get along.

In a world where it’s nearly impossible to get noticed.

What if it doesn’t work out?

In the nineties Chris was a programmer. Ironically, his expertise in SQL and Ruby still flies, he could work. And in the past year he’s taken courses to brush up, not that he’s planning to enter the world of bits and bytes, but…

Not everybody can be famous, not everybody can be rich. And few can continue to be rich and famous, even if they once broke through. What are you gonna do when the well runs dry, when people no longer care, when your bank account is empty and all you’ve got is your memories?

This is the issue confronting not only the acts, but the employees, those whose shoulders the empire was built upon. They’re no longer needed, but they’re not yet dead. What now?

Maybe you inherited enough money.

But if you’re trying to get along on social security…

It was different back then, because the music was EVERYTHING! A culture whose institutions built an edifice parallel to traditional reality. There were not only the labels, but the radio stations… It’s like our religion died and it was replaced with a faux belief that we just cannot fathom.

And there’s so much noise that even if you’re great it’s hard to get noticed.

I didn’t mean this to be depressing. I spent an afternoon in the California sunshine, everybody wearing shorts on this ninety degree day. The music washed over us, we were living the life.

But when I scratched beneath the surface…

Nobody likes to complain.

But there’s a lot to complain about.

You want to do it. You’re privileged to do it. You’ve got to do all the heavy lifting and oftentimes you can’t tell whether you’re making progress or not.

But the believers keep you on course. A young woman flew in from Japan to sell the merch. It’s these fans who keep us going.

But where are we going to?

First they came for your watch.

Next they’re coming for your car.

Used to be he who died with the most toys won.

Now, ownership is passe, everything’s on demand.

I first realized this fifteen years ago, when I noticed Jimmy Iovine had the same Nokia phone, a tiny blue stub of a device, it was the best available, you couldn’t get one with a longer range or a better sound, functionality was king and decoration was irrelevant, we were equals.

We’re all equals today.

For those of you buying an expensive car as a status symbol… Do it now, because in ten years you won’t even own a car. And that Ferrari? The Tesla outperforms it, at least in straight line acceleration. Turns out gasoline is no match for electricity. But before long, transportation will be an on demand item. Not only will the car drive itself, it’ll show up at your doorstep when you need to go somewhere. And the evaporation of a need for parking lots, and parking spaces is hard to wrap one’s head around, can you imagine a kid asking why a house has a garage fifty years from now? But you’re gonna lose your ability to stand out based on your possessions.

As for those watches… Your phone tells more accurate time. They’re just jewelry. And Swiss sales are off, the manufacturers are buying up inventory to maintain prices, the wristwatch is going to be marginalized, at least that which is not computerized. And what we know about computers is they become commodities, like phones, the best is within the reach of almost all of us.

George Carlin did a whole routine on stuff.

Is anybody gonna even own any stuff in the future?

Your record collection, vinyl and CD. You can hold on to it, people still collect stamps, although that’s a dying art with plunging prices, but it’s a hobby, music is something that arrives with the flick of a digital switch, like movies, via Netflix.

The rich will not be that much better than the rest of us.

Sure, they can own bigger homes. But people are returning to cities for the access, they like the action, the opportunities, the offerings. So sprawling suburban mansions? There’s gonna be a fire sale. As for vacation home ownership? It’s kind of like skis. Most people rent them, sales have declined dramatically, because when you factor in transportation costs, you’re better off hiring the latest and the greatest each time you go.

We’ve all got the same iPhones and Samsungs. There’s no $2000 model, never mind $10,000 model. And our lives are centered around our mobile devices, and what is virtually inside is more valuable than what is externally available.

That’s right, your social network means more than anything you own at home. As for food, delivery is making inroads in a world where so many have given up cooking anyway.

So, it all comes down to your virtual world and experiences. Those who are selling experiences will triumph tomorrow. It’s going to be who you know, where you’ve been and what you’ve done. Probably documented online, but it won’t be about physical trophies.

We won’t be able to tell someone is rich just by looking at them. Maybe they’ll have the best seat in the restaurant, maybe they’ll be able to get a reservation at the restaurant, but they won’t drive up in a Rolls Royce or BMW strutting their stuff.

We’re gonna become more equal.

This is hard to fathom if you’ve got nothing, you’re looking for creature comforts, items to make you feel good.

And this is hard to fathom if you’re rich, trying to feel better about yourself by working endlessly to acquire items that set you apart.

Of course, the rich will still have access to that which the poor do not. But it used to be a goal to own your own plane, most people now just rent ’em, they might call them fractional ownership programs, but the truth is your jet is delivered on demand, and you’ve got no headaches, and if you own your own plane today…it’s a signifier, to show that you’re better than your competitors.

We’re all in it together. We’re collapsing inward, and people don’t like this. The poor hate the immigrants supposedly stealing their jobs and the rich don’t want the poor elbowing in on their opportunities, like access to a first rate education.

So what do you need?

A roof over your head, a screen and someone to love.

That’s about it.

Oh, and a job. So you can partake of experiences. So you have something to do. Work will become about fulfillment more than paying one’s bills.

The times they are a-changin’.

It was like Friday night at college. Back before iPhones. When Mommy and Daddy had no idea what transpired, when you forgot about studies, raised a glass, and hijinks ensued.

And Luke Bryan was the ringleader.

I got there early, to see the opening act, one Dustin Lynch, who was supported by a band made up of three guitarists and a drummer. For a thirty minute set? Rock and roll lives on in modern country. And music lives on at the Forum.

It’s the respect.

Normally you go to the venue and are treated like crap. Inundated with marketing messages, brushed aside by the rent-a-help that doesn’t give a crap, never mind feeling like a displaced person in an arena where sports rule and the victories of these gladiators are enshrined overhead with the message that the arts are a second-rate pursuit.

But not at the Forum. Which was clean, sans endless ads and sports memorabilia, and featured an endless buffet of gourmet food for this event which did not draw the insiders of Hollywood. I didn’t recognize a single soul in the Forum Club other than manager extraordinaire Coran Capshaw and Forum employees, yet the red carpet had been rolled out for these poseurs and wannabes, how cool!

Dustin Lynch took the stage after the PA blared AC/DC. It’s country that’s inherited the rock mantle, that has embraced the classics. And when the guitars worked their way into a frenzy I told myself there was nothing like live music, nothing like the experience of being there. You can talk VR all you want, but you can’t FEEL IT! You can’t marvel at the attendees strolling by in their outfits. And one of the treats is being completely outside the mainstream, in a cocoon, where you and your brethren rule. All the acts paid fealty to Southern California, but the venue might as well have been on the moon. We were insulated from influences and judgments, and that felt so cool.

Little Big Town occupied the middle slot. They played “Girl Crush” and “Pontoon,” most of their set was taken up by recent tracks. But the highlight was “Boondocks”… When the assembled multitude, including me, stood on our feet, thrust our arms in the air and exclaimed…

I feel no shame
I’m proud of where I came from
I was born and raised in the boondocks

Now Jimi Westbrook claimed to be from a hamlet of 3,000, whereas most in attendance had probably never been in the woods, but at heart we all feel like we come from a small town, alienated, with our families as our main influence.

I loved hearing the anthem “I’m With The Band.” And Little Big Town also covered Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain,” demonstrating their classic rock bona fides, but…

Everybody was there to see Luke Bryan. Possibly the biggest name in country music. He’s excoriated by the red dirt authoritarians for being a pretty boy bro, but it’s Luke who has the hits, a treasure trove of them.

“Rain Is A Good Thing” was the opener, a cliched number about corn making whisky which makes one’s baby feel a little bit frisky. But the energy was UNDENIABLE! Luke, who turns out to be quite tall and beefy, the epitome of a hunk, thrust off his jacket, was bouncing in his t-shirt and I finally got his sexual appeal.

You see the last time I’d seen Luke Bryan was at the Hollywood Bowl. He performed, but that was not his show. Last night I got the full on experience. And I was stunned that it was so LOOSE!

Everything’s choreographed these days. Not only the dancing, but the songs themselves, oftentimes they’re printed on the laminate. Go from one town to another and you’re gonna get the same show.

But not last night.

Luke reached into the audience to grab a coat with stars upon it. He tried it on, attempting to sing at the same time, missing a few words, no hard drive filling them in, but when he finally got it on and the sleeves were so short and he was smiling you started to wonder, WHAT IS THIS? We’re used to an assault by an hermetically sealed entity we can see but not touch, whereas the only difference between Luke and those in attendance seemed to be that he was on stage. He was the charismatic guy in your dorm who pulled a Solo cup full of beer from the keg and bellowed at the top of his lungs THAT WE WERE GONNA HAVE THE GREATEST NIGHT OF OUR LIVES!

You know that experience, right? The college drinking ritual. It’s about having fun and testing limits. In search of god knows what, but we’re gonna go there!

And he’s playing his hits. Talking in between numbers. Not to excess, like Adele, but with enough information to create intimacy. He thanked Little Big Town for performing and then went into more than a few bars of “Girl Crush,” which was mind-bending, this dreamboat on stage sans accompaniment other than bass testifying to…his love of women? Funny and intriguing all at the same time.

And there was a giant runway into the audience. From which Luke could reach down and communicate with those in attendance. He asked if there were any schoolteachers there, and when he found some he told them their students were there too and Monday morning everybody was gonna know they were there drunk.

And he asked for and found a bachelorette party. There were a ton of women there, Luke said the ratio was ten to one, and that if we males couldn’t get laid… Like I said, it was akin to a frat party, but before the blackouts and the untoward sexual activity. It was a celebration that seemed unique, that we were privileged to attend.

And everybody was singing along. And I’ve experienced this at many a show, especially Taylor Swift performances. But this audience wasn’t that young, teenagers were in a distinct minority, most people were middle aged, they were music fans, they needed these tunes, they bought the albums, they knew all the songs by heart, no matter how deep the cuts.

And then Luke did “Play It Again.”

And with the audience taking over parts it was a victory lap for a track that embodies the essence of modern country music, a rock-based sound that is all about life…the trials and tribulations, the triumphs. You sat there (and stood there!) and thought about moving to Tennessee or South Carolina, far from the metropolis, where life was solely for the living, where your experiences mattered, where you weren’t chasing fame, just laughs.

And Karen Fairchild of Little Big Town flew up from the depths with Luke to sing their duet “Home Alone Tonight.”

And after bringing out the rest of Little Big Town Luke called for the Patron. You see tequila adds fuel to the fire. And after an a cappella take of Tupac’s “California Love,” tiny red cup were passed around and everybody took a shot, and then another, and then the assembled multitude, Luke and all four members of Little Big Town, sang the Ed Sheeran hit “Thinking Out Loud.”

And that was good, but the moment became transcendent when they segued into Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On,” with the sex oozing from the stage, the audience oiled for…

This was a revival show. Sans religion and focused on music. This was not static, but something that lived and breathed, imperfect and constantly changing, just like you and me.

Dustin Lynch reappeared and the two extracted beer from a Yeti and passed it down to the throng.

And then came an extended version of “Huntin’, Fishin’ And Lovin’ Every Day.”

If I could make a livin’ from walkin’ in the woods
You can bet I’d be sittin’ pretty good
High on a hill lookin’ at a field downwind
If I can make a nickel off ‘a turnin’ them bass
Never worry about the price of gas
I’d be wheelin’ and dealin’ and sittin’ there reelin’ ’em in

The four guitars are wailing, Luke has strapped on an axe and is duetting with the lead player and I’m sitting there wondering, maybe he has it right, maybe the rat race is not quite what it’s cracked up to be, all of us trying to get ahead for fear of being left behind, working so hard for our leisure that we’ve got no time off.

Now I don’t want to say there weren’t some jingoistic comments made. When Jimi Westbrook went on about how America is the greatest country in the world I winced, it’s this blind patriotism that keeps people away from country music. Then again, by time he was done, Jimi had included everyone as an American, unlike Donald Trump, so I forgave him. Luke thanked the military, and then the police and firefighters, and I’m not saying we don’t need ’em and they aren’t doing a good job, but I wonder what they’d have to say in Charlotte and Oklahoma right about now. But when Luke went down the ladder to include transit police and then stopped at the TSA, not sure whether to give them a pass or not, you had to laugh.

The sound is pure rock and roll.

But the politics…are too often questionable.

But the songs, we can relate. As Luke said when he told us to sing along with “Drink A Beer,” we’ve all lost someone, we’ve all got someone we can lift a beer to.

And there you have it. After Dustin’s thirty minutes, Little Big Town’s hour and Luke’s nearly two, it was all done.

But what was it?

It was like it always was and forevermore should be. It was just like the seventies, we were inside the Forum, thrilled by Gibsons, detached from an outside world that neither understood nor accepted us.

This is white music. This is not a big tent.

Then again, Luke did sing the Florida Georgia Line hit he cowrote and performed on, “This Is How We Roll,” which has got more to do with urban pop than Merle Haggard. You see the makers of this music may come from the South, but they’ve got cable TV and the internet, they’ve been exposed to the city influences just like you and me.

She was sittin’ all alone over on the tailgate
Tan legs swingin’ by a Georgia plate

This is how it happens. We’re in a new environment, off at school, at a new job, and we catch a glimpse…

I was lookin’ for her boyfriend
Thinkin’ no way she ain’t got one

We’re all insecure, we’re all checking ourselves, looking to get up the gumption to take a risk, that’s the essence of not only love, but LIFE!

She was like, come here boy I wanna dance
‘Fore I said a word, she was takin’ my hand

We’re trolling for action, looking for a response, and nothing gets our adrenaline pumping more than gaining reciprocity. You like me? You wanna play with me? HOW COOL IS THAT!

Spinnin’ me around ’til it faded out

That’s what being at the show was like, caught up in the maelstrom with fifteen thousand other souls on the exact same page. All we could say was…

PLAY IT AGAIN!