Inspired by:

“Why Are SO Many Millennials SO Uncool”

It’s about the money.

They came for the record stores, then they came for the MP3s, everything we knew disappeared, we didn’t know they were gonna take the music itself.

It started in the nineties.

Or maybe we’ve got to go back to the eighties for perspective.

The music business was in the dumper, disco killed corporate rock, and then a deejay in Chicago blew up dance records and revenue cratered. But at the deepest, darkest hour MTV came along to save the day.

And suddenly, along with the new technology known as the CD, record companies were rolling in dough. And when there’s that much cash involved, you don’t hand the wheel to someone who just got their license, you only let the experienced drive, and old men solidified their hold on the business and ironically they’re still running it today, I mean you Doug Morris and Marty Bandier, and the acts have been supplanted by the execs, they’re the ones who not only make all the money, but have all the power. Dr. Dre may be worth almost a billion, but as talented as he is he’s got to credit Jimmy Iovine, who shepherded Beats to Apple, another moribund company run by the clueless.

Used to be different, that’s what the classic rock revolution delivered, creative control, you cut the album in the studio of your choice and the label had no input, under contract they had to release it as is. Today they don’t, and they’ll make you work with a co-writer, cut the same damn track over and over again, and the so-called “artists” agree to it!

Why? Because they want to get rich. And they’re too uneducated to take another path.

Mark Zuckerberg famously refused to relinquish control of Facebook to adults, he wanted to steer, he needed no supervision. Who are the twentysomethings running the music business? Don’t say Scooter Braun, who took Wall Street money he could never pray to repay and has foisted the fake known as Justin Bieber upon us.

Justin’s no different from what came before the Beatles. A pretty face who could sing. And since the audience has developing hormones, and knows no better, they embrace him. And want to be him. And everybody’s on social media promoting themselves in the desire of being discovered, while those who truly change the world are going to school and studying engineering in their bedrooms. Nerds and outliers ultimately triumph, they’re the only ones with the balls to do it differently. And eventually it’ll be done differently in America when we all burn out on the pabulum being fed us and admit although hooky today’s music has got the nutritional value of a Slurpee.

I mean what kind of fucked up world do we live in where the biggest star in America makes her bones speaking the truth, unveiling her teen warts in country music, and then hooks up with the songwriter/producer du jour to make music that sounds just like the rest of the crap on Top Forty. Sure, it sells. And that’s now the only criterion that counts, if you’re rich, if you make a lot of money, if you control the chart, you matter, we bow at your feet, if you don’t, you’re irrelevant. Take the road less traveled? Most people think there’s only one road to go on!

But so many are disaffected with no future, with little upward mobility. That’s what’s turned the Presidential campaign topsy-turvy. But when it comes to art, we lionize the latest Max Martin record and J.J. Abrams’s remake of “Star Wars.” Hell, even George Lucas was pissed, wishing J.J. had pushed the envelope. George had to apologize for that, because we live in a fascist country where it’s all groupthink all the time and if you say something negative, if you go against the grain, you’re a pariah.

But that’s what all the hit acts of yore did, challenge precepts, make us uncomfortable.

We’ve got a cultural problem, caused by money. As long as it’s hard to make a good living, the educated middle class, or what’s left of it, won’t risk a future in the arts, they play it safe. Hell, when I graduated from college I was a ski bum, nobody I knew went to a job interview, but today if you don’t start your career right after you get your diploma you’ve already been left behind!

And the parents reinforce the paradigm. Thinking going to college is all about getting a job as opposed to opening one’s mind. Hell, most people’s minds are closed, to truth, to insight, to anything that contradicts what they’ve been told previously. And isn’t it interesting that the artists of yore were the leaders, who got us to smoke dope, question authority and end the Vietnam War while we were at it.

So I could tell you about a few hit records, champion the underdog and extol the virtues of those who’ve succeeded. But the truth is we all feel the malaise, the seamy underside, the feeling that what once was is here no longer. Hell, didn’t David Bowie say if he started today he’d be in tech?

And as powerful as tech is, it’s not art. Tech needs to be seamless, art has rough edges, it challenges us, it doesn’t give us what we want, but what we need.

This can’t go on forever. A revolution is gonna come. But it won’t be led by wet behind the ears kids who can sing but can’t write because they haven’t had enough education, never mind enough experience, to have something to say.

And that something is gonna have to be the truth.

And although I don’t agree with all the causes of the situation delineated in the above article, I must chuckle at the juxtaposition of Grace Slick and Beyonce. Grace was an upper middle class woman who had no problem challenging authority, she was all about exposing bad behavior, while behaving badly herself, whereas Beyonce is in bed with corporations like Pepsi, which makes people fat and sick, while being thin and squeaky clean herself. Isn’t it funny that millennials have abandoned soft drinks, but the acts endorsing this crap believe their audience will suck it up.

Or they just want the check.

But the end result is there’s no trust, there’s no believability. When questioned, acts just say they’re doing what it takes to get by, to feed their family.

Is that what Van Gogh said? John Lennon? Other than mercurial Gene Simmons, who owes what success he has to uber producer Bob Ezrin, responsible for Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” and Peter Gabriel’s solo debut, none of the hit acts of yore paid penance to the man or the money. They prayed to a higher power.

When are we gonna pray to a higher power again?

I just don’t care.

I never go to the movies and I’ll never see the Rams play live.

Despite media telling me I need to pay attention, the truth is I’m on my own subliminal trip to somewhere, as is everybody else, it’s the twenty first century condition.

Used to be entertainment was scarce. And those who got to play in the sandbox took their jobs seriously. We hung on every word, these artists defined the culture. But today the public defines the culture, Instagram is more important than any movie at the multiplex, including “Star Wars.”

Kind of like “25.” Have you heard anybody discuss the music? When was the last time you heard the music? Is anybody even listening? You can dazzle me with sales figures, but on YouTube Adele doesn’t rule. Media tells us she’s the biggest thing in music, but she’s not really that big at all.

I haven’t got any time. Not only do I not make it to the theatre, I don’t watch the flicks when they come to TV. The hype has evaporated and there’s always something new, I can barely keep up with the present, never mind catch up with the past.

As for Kroenke moving his team to Inglewood, I’ll watch a bit of the playoffs, go to a Super Bowl party, but I’m not dedicating months of my life to sitting in front of the screen watching men maim themselves for life. And the truth is, I’m on the bleeding edge. Boxing died, football has already peaked, the owners and the inane Commissioner have lost touch with the public, they think it’s all about the money, that the audience just can’t get enough. But even Depeche Mode can’t sell out stadiums anymore.

As for movies, chasing foreign bucks they lost touch with the American mind. If I want a comic book, I’ll read one. And I’m an adult and I don’t want one. That’s what happens when you chase the dollar, you lose your soul, and then the public wakes up and walks. Kind of like baseball, so-called “America’s Pastime,” I’ll argue it shot itself in the foot when it put the World Series on at night. Too late for young ‘uns to watch and no longer special. They stopped respecting the game. And then we did too.

Live long enough and you can see the arc, you can see that most things are fads, hell, even American auto manufacturers no longer dominate, I’d never buy any of their iron, I want my investment to last!

Then again, anybody with a buck is leasing, because they want the latest and the greatest all the time. Kind of like with smartphones. But Apple’s stock has tanked because after you’ve got LTE, do you really need the latest iPhone? When does good become good enough? No, that’s not the issue, when does the mobile phone become a commodity, when you can’t tell the brands apart and the manufacturers can barely make money. That’s right, look at all the TV dropouts, those who no longer make sets, the mobile area is coming next.

Unless there’s innovation.

But it turns out everything hits a wall and then the public moves on to something new. Seemingly nobody under twenty one goes to Facebook anymore, Zuckerberg is smart enough to diversify, but if the big Kahuna can’t last, what’s the chance anything else will?

And the truth is we’re all so overwhelmed that we’re doubling down on our own lives, our own activities, our own friends. Sure, some want to get famous on social media, but the truth is we want to connect with our circle of friends, who are known only to us, that’s who we want to impress.

And we’ve got the tools at our fingertips. We love being in charge. The record companies don’t want to let us remix, talking about antiquated rights, not realizing it’s all about public participation in the new era. Take Taylor Swift off of YouTube and her career goes in the dumper. Not only do people watch her videos for free, they do their own versions, they lip-synch. And after doing this and checking out the work of their peers do they have any time to go to the movies?

Well, some teens do.

But the rest of us wrote off the flicks long ago. We used to pay attention because we wanted to belong, have starting points of discussion. But now we just talk about apps. And the media is hung up on the election but the truth is the rank and file have given up on Washington, it hasn’t done anything for them lately, so they’ve tuned out.

Or are angry. Hell, at least Bernie Sanders is a real person speaking the truth, what a breath of fresh air. And Trump ping-pongs in his message, but his lack of b.s. is appealing, in a world inundated with b.s.

Like with the Oscars.

I don’t even watch anymore. I don’t care who wears what and I’m sick of the insider attitude. Life today is about the big tent, including everyone, that’s why tech is so successful, it scales.

The movies no longer scale. People talk about TV.

As for the NFL… Why not put a game on every night, why not burn the franchise out completely in pursuit of greed.

But the truth is the rich, and this applies not only to sports and entertainment, are living in a bubble, out of touch with you and me. They want us to believe they count, they create jobs, without them we would die. But the truth is we have a cornucopia of tools and information at our fingertips, and we like to play. We’re sick of being dictated to.

The story isn’t how white the Oscar nominees may be, but how the whole show and organization became unmoored from popular culture years ago. Want kids to watch? Have it hosted by PewDiePie!

As for color, Killer Mike’s endorsement of Sanders is more meaningful than nominating another entertainer bitching about recognition. You earn your status in the trenches, not on the awards shows, and we respond to honesty, truth and smarts, which Killer Mike demonstrated on Bill Maher, check him out, he made me a fan nearly instantly:

That’s today’s world. Not the triangulation of the Clintons, not adjusting your message based on polls, but being authentic, human, just like us.

And then we may embrace you.

We don’t need a football team in Los Angeles. Hell, without one we get better games on TV.

And the only person I know who’s seen all the Oscar nominees gets the screeners from their next door neighbor.

Something is happening here, and it’s plenty clear, if you pull your head out of your rear end and walk the streets, surf the net. The people may not have the money, they may not run the corporation, but they own the culture. They’re creating it every day online. That’s where the action is.

We don’t need your stinkin’ entertainment!

Never does what’s expedient.

Worries about money, but never makes it paramount.

Is jealous of others’ success, but puts his head down and keeps working.

Knows when he strikes a chord, knows when he gets it right. Look for this resonance, this inner light. When you’ve achieved it, you’ll get an inner smile.

Knows a career is a journey and you learn through experience.

Risks.

Lives in the world of discomfort.

Challenges himself.

Knows that love is the answer, but is sometimes poisoned by hate.

Wants a wide audience more than he wants riches.

Knows not to listen to anybody but himself. Stories in the press are inaccurate, and everyone’s an individual, on his own journey.

Plays to his strengths, not his weaknesses. Focuses on what he does right, not what he does wrong.

Is rarely good at anything else.

Dies inside when he is not creating.

Questions himself constantly, he not ever thinking of giving up is delusional.

Knows he needs suits, but is reluctant to listen to them on creative/career matters.

Feels more deeply than the average person.

Gets in touch with his inner tuning fork such that others may resonate.

Is afraid of overloading his audience but desires to overload them. This is an unending conundrum.

Is willing to destroy what he’s created in order to move forward.

Knows that there are charts and awards but it’s really not a competition.

Knows beauty.

Is a communicator.

Is riddled with feelings of inadequacy. When an artist boasts he is usually covering up insecurity.

Needs approval.

Wants fame and fortune, but wouldn’t know how to live with either if he got them.

Feels pain.

Knows that the medium may be the message, but the medium keeps changing.

Is busy being born, otherwise he’s dying.

BEST BOWIE TRIBUTE

Rick Wakeman’s Tribute To David Bowie – Life On Mars

“I’d just played on what I considered to be the best song I’d ever had the privilege to work on.”

Rick Wakeman

That’s right, the guy who was in and out of Yes, who brought them to their height with “Roundabout” and the rest of “Fragile” and then did a solo album and ultimately disappeared into obscurity. He’s back. To where he once belonged. Playing his original piano part from “Life On Mars?” on BBC 2.

You won’t listen.

Nobody does anymore.

No one’s got the time, everybody’s overwhelmed, there’s too much input, you’re buried under the suggestions from your trusted filters, and when Wakeman starts to talk at the beginning of this clip your eyes are gonna glaze over. So…

Fast forward to the fifty second mark, listen, and then go back to the spoken intro.

Not that it’s not interesting, it’s just that musicians speak through their music, it’s probably why none has truly succeeded as an actor, an actor plays a role, a musician evidences his inner life, his soul in his music, especially back then, when the hitmakers not only sang, but wrote and played.

But here you’ve got a minor figure, someone who never crosses your mind when you think of the song, and he lays his hands on the ivories and…

Bowie is dead, but his music lives on.

It’s positively staggering. That someone has that much talent. We’re so used to people faking it that to see someone demonstrate his wares on a song we know by heart, having done the original decades before and now playing the notes just as well, our minds are blown, we’re speechless.

We think of the legends as passe. Plowed under. Yet here, paying tribute to a colleague, Rick Wakeman is more alive, more human, evidences more heart, than all the Top Ten combined. Bieber can’t do that. Gomez can’t even try. Gaga would be so busy mugging, illustrating her investment, that it would overwhelm the sound, and ultimately it’s all about the sound…

And it’s GLORIOUS!’

FASCINATION

Luther Vandross gets a writing credit, but he gets no performance credit. What exactly did he do here?

Check this out:

“Funky Music (Is A Part Of Me)”

Despite Luther being managed by Shep Gordon, who made his bones with rocker Alice Cooper, in the seventies R&B and rock rarely crossed paths, in the collections of fans, that is. You never heard soul music on AOR and vice versa. The musicians themselves cross-pollinated, especially the English, who were influenced by early R&B to begin with. All of which is an explanation for the fact that despite being completely aware of Luther Vandross, I was never aware of this track. Internet research tells me Mike Garson played it before Bowie shows in ’74, that’s how David knew it.

That’s right, they used to be musicians, artists, they lived for the music and knew so much about it.

ROCK ‘N’ ROLL SUICIDE

Internet prognosticators are speculating that Bowie took his own life. Not that he was not ill, not that his condition was not terminal, but that the date and time were selected by the man himself.

Makes sense. You too can parse Tony Visconti’s words for insight.

It’s just that it was too soon after the release of “Blackstar,” too much when he was on our minds, it was completely unexpected, we’re looking for answers.

I have none.

Once again, internet research will tell you that Bowie had liver cancer, that it probably started in his lungs, that he may have had a bout before. But despite living in the information society, it’s amazing how little we can know, especially about someone’s death.

If it was suicide, it was one last, grand, artistic moment. Touché.

If it was not…

In the case of John Lennon, we could point our finger at Mark David Chapman, he was the villain, he took the Beatle from us. And George Harrison had a long cancer decline. Bowie was positively vital, at the peak of his game, and then he expired?

How do you explain that?

I can’t.

I haven’t read a single tribute, no obituary, I haven’t looked at any pictures, because I’m still digesting his absence. I haven’t fully metabolized it yet. It was a shock to the system, discovered randomly on Twitter. At first I thought it was a lighthearted joke. But then I went down my timeline and realized it was real. And then…

I didn’t feel like saying anything.

He was too young. Despite being a recluse, he was in the public eye. He committed no cultural faux pas. There was nothing to ridicule. Sure, his commercial peak may have passed, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Then POOF!

He’s gone.

It’s akin to the “Leftovers.” Have you read that book? Where suddenly people disappear? Messes up those left behind. They abandon their jobs, they find religion, they take their own lives… You see meaning has evaporated.

And I’d say meaning has evaporated here on Earth. With everything at our fingertips we don’t know where to start. We can’t get a handle on the 400+ scripted TV shows, never mind an album. Everybody wants our attention, few deserve it. We want to belong, but not to a club that does not align with our core beliefs.

Used to be we believed in musicians. Many still do. But before the Beatles Frankie Avalon and Fabian were big stars. Fame draws flies. But then there are those who twist the game, who utilize their notoriety to comment on the condition. Isn’t that the essence of “Ziggy Stardust”?

But that was just the beginning.

And now we’re at the end.

Ever read a great book and get depressed when it’s over?

Usually I start reading slower and slower as I near the end.

But in this case, I was steaming along merrily, completely oblivious, and then a giant crater sucked up David Bowie. How do you process something like that? Especially in a world where nincompoops laud Donald Trump and crazy Cruz and Hillary is so busy telling us what she thinks we want to hear that we can’t believe a word she says.

Bowie never did this. He never pandered. Always played it his way.

Which is why we paid attention.

We never grew up and out of it. We always believed in the power of music. And we’ve had such a hard time facing the changes. The death of not only the record store, but the album. The shift to mindless crap from meaningful media. We want to go back, but not only does rust never sleep, your DNA marches inexorably forward, you can get a facelift, but your genes don’t care.

Time has changed us.

But we can’t trace time.

But we want to.