The Allman Brothers had a slow build, their initial album was ignored, the second was known only by cognoscenti and the third blew up, not through airplay, but WORD OF MOUTH!

Imagine there was a band so good, people couldn’t stop testifying about them, dragging their friends to a show so adventurous yet refined that it fulfilled all your dreams. Never forget, it was the Allmans that closed Watkins Glen, the Band and the Dead opened for them.

STATESBORO BLUES

This was the opener. An air guitar number so fast and furious you could not play it at home. That was the genius of Duane. He started off at 100 MPH and stayed there. The Allmans had something to prove. It was they who initiated southern rock, everybody else went through the door they opened. And when you’re breaking ground you can’t screw up, you can’t just be good, you’ve got to blow people away!

“Statesboro Blues” was the opening cut on “Fillmore East.” You dropped the needle that fall of ’71 and you were off on a wild ride, as we were Friday night. Gregg may look worse for wear, but his voice is still there, after the opening riff, after the band locks into the groove, Gregg starts to sing and then drifts his fingers over the organ keys and you’re taken right back to what once was when.

TROUBLE NO MORE

I’ll argue that the Allmans’ debut was their best work. It was sterile, the production was off, the live album is more them, but through the scrim you can hear them working their asses off, with that exquisite concoction of confidence and desire to prove.

I bought it after “Idlewild South” and “Fillmore East.” You’ve got to hear the compact five minute version of “Whipping Post.” But the highlight is “Trouble No More.”

Don’t care how long you go
Don’t care how long you stay
Good kind treatment
Bring you home someday
Someday baby, ain’t gonna trouble, poor me, ANYMORE!

You put me through the grinder, but not only am I done with you, I’M OVER YOU! Easier said than done, but you’re helped by music. It’s the essence of metal, it’s something pop rarely delivers. You want a sound that drowns out all the noise, that picks you up and carries you away. And that’s “Trouble No More.” Listening to the rendition Friday night I was taken right back and completely away. I got that hit of what once was. When you went to the show to be transported, away from regular life, all the b.s.

THESE DAYS

So Gregg straps on an acoustic, begins strumming one of the most famous songs in his canon, one written by Jackson Browne and done by so many others but made legendary by him on his solo album “Laid Back.”

Does it get any better than this?

NOT FOR THIS AUDIENCE!

Let me get this straight, you’re paying a hundred bucks to get in, you’re at a unique experience and you can’t even pay attention, never mind respect?

Bummed me out immensely.

What is it, the lack of seats? When they were torn out did concertgoers lose all decorum?

Or is the me generation, where everybody is a star. Gregg’s up there pouring out his heart and no one cares. I couldn’t find a box to put it all in.

AIN’T WASTIN’ TIME NO MORE

The opening cut on “Eat A Peach,” the posthumous album with a bit of new stuff and a bunch of old Duane. It never gets any respect, it’s never mentioned, but it’s a personal favorite.

You don’t need no gypsy to tell you why
You can’t let one precious day slip by

You’ve got to look inside, you’re the only one with the answers. Just put on a record, lay back and think, the truth will come.

Just talk to any baby boomer in the business, they heard this music and had to get closer, they didn’t get in to get rich, but to be next to the art and the artists, to turn others on to the elixir. The scene was run by musicians, who could testify about influences and desires if they could talk at all, who didn’t know brands other than Jack Daniel’s and Marlboro, who had handlers who whipped off hundreds as they did whatever they chose, knowing the music would carry them through and make everything right.

And sure, music was not free. But it was the music that generated all this heat. Because it’s all about belief. Music is religion, excise that element and you’ve got soulless pabulum that’s here today and gone tomorrow, unlike the music of the Allman Brothers.

HOT ‘LANTA

I remember my family being pissed I called it that. A friend was going to the capital of the south, and I said they were going to “Hot ‘Lanta” and I was EXCORIATED!

Welcome to my life. Persecuted when I was not ignored. I found solace in my records, when the world was closing in I put them on.

This is Gregg’s showcase, he played it right after his break, right after introducing the band.

I know it by heart.

MELISSA

Uh-oh. Another acoustic number. Everybody’s talking. Walla if you’ve ever worked in the movie business. And then Gregg reaches the chorus and the assembled multitude sings…SWEET MELISSA! Almost a sigh, in unison.
The reason there are so many thirtysomething Melissas is because of this song. That’s the power of music.

MIDNIGHT RIDER

Same deal.

Come on, can you mistake the intro? With the groove of a clomping horse? Gregg’s giving it his best, everybody’s talking and then when he reaches the chorus everybody sings…MIDNIGHT RIDER!

It was like a bizarre horror movie. Where the zombies wake up every once in a while and utter a key phrase. Every time through, every chorus. It’s like their brains had been removed but the song was in their DNA!

SOUTHBOUND

So, let’s see. Arena act, STADIUM ACT, survives but ends up playing a club.

But that’s not really what happened. It was a special gig tied into Stagecoach, Allman doesn’t usually play venues this small, never mind with a full horn section, and, as stated above, tickets were $100.

Still…

Was this like the jazzbos, playing deep into the night earning their keep…

Or was it a legend coming down from the mountaintop to deign us with excellence and then disappear?

You’ve got to understand, it used to be different. We used to be bored, we used to go to the bar to connect, you couldn’t do it on the internet, there’d be a jukebox, and for a while there in the seventies, it was populated with Allman hits.

But really, the band was for the dorm room, the house party, when you were all sitting in a circle with the lights down low, drinking Bud and bourbon, getting higher and higher, communing with your buddies, dreaming of getting laid but getting none.

But Gregg was getting enough for all of us. He was our hero, not someone to make fun of, but to emulate.

Not that we could ever be him. But just maybe, inspired by his music, we could achieve our dreams. Which included good sex, a fulfilling job and tickets to the show, we had to go to the show.

And we still do.

Because we remember.

When music tested limits, when it changed the world.

Bob Ezrin was right.

And if you don’t believe so, you’re young and ignorant or an oldster trying to look hip. Sure, there’s good music today. But it used to be different. Music was peopled by the best and the brightest, testing limits. The entry price was low. Albums were way under ten bucks and so were tickets. And you had to go the show, to not only be transported, but to change your life.

Music is forever.

But there was only one Renaissance. They’ve made music since the sixties and seventies, but the coalition of forces engendered greatness that hooked the entire world. The radio station was your bible, the music was your religion and the rock stars were your gods.

Still are.

CODA

He’s 67 and looks it. He’s not exactly frail, but he’s not the picture of health. Up close and personal he’s a southern gentleman, with a voice so soft you can barely hear, but with a brain working overtime. He told me about breaking his arm, playing a gig the next day. And when I asked him what he thought about everybody talking during “These Days” Gregg said he didn’t even notice, because he was in the ZONE!

They do it for themselves, not us.

You can tell the difference.

And it makes all the difference.

You can get close, but you’re never gonna catch the midnight rider.

IT’S WHO YOU KNOW

A spice rub company couldn’t get arrested at Sam’s Club, they’d been trying to get their product stocked for years, but once they made a deal with Barbara Corcoran, voila!, they were in.

Stop becoming such an expert. You’re not. It’s great to be a student of the game, to know about royalties and players, but the best way to get ahead is to hire an intermediary, who will navigate the waters for you. And it’s less about knowing where to go, than knowing the right people to go to.

Who needs product? Who is open to making a deal?

And people who make a deal only want to deal with those they know. Of course there are exceptions, but very few.

You need a lawyer or a manager, someone who’s been there before. Don’t denigrate the players, INGRATIATE yourself with them!

HISTORY

No one wants to invest in someone without a track record.

How long have you been at it, how many albums have you sold, how many YouTube views do you have, how many gigs have you done, how many people have attended, how much money did you make?

Yes, enthusiasm is contagious, but it’s no match for data.

If you want someone to invest, you must have proof of concept.

If you don’t, it’s too early.

DON’T BE IRRATIONAL

Nothing spins heads as much as a newbie with little track record who turns down a deal because they believe they’re a winner. Then why are you looking for a deal? Of course you can go it alone, but if you’re looking for help, be open to it. Listen. You don’t know everything, you probably know very little. And initial deals with newbies tend to be bad, they only get better with a proven track record. And a small piece of something is much better than a big piece of nothing. They’re cliches because they’re true, like you’ve got to spend money to make money. Don’t reinvent the wheel, put it on your vehicle and roll.

DON’T ARGUE

No one wants to be involved with someone who’s a headache. If you’re headstrong, if you have a retort to all insight, no one’s gonna want a piece of you, no matter how good your product, life is too short.

NOT EVERYONE HAS TO LIKE YOU

You only need a deal from one shark. It’s great to get into a bidding war, but you’ve ultimately got to decide who to go with. And that person is frequently not the one who offers the most money. The struggle is just beginning. You need someone who will help you.

And, there are 300 million people in America. You don’t have to please all of them, a tiny fraction of fans will make you rich and successful.

EXPERIENCE COUNTS

Respect the sharks. They didn’t get there by accident. Sometimes daddy gets them in, but usually they’re self-made. Investigate why they’re successful, don’t put them down. They learned a lot of lessons, which can rub off on you if you’re in business with them.

BE WILLING TO HEAR THE TRUTH

An investor wants to know you’re open to change, that you’re malleable, that you can pivot. Someone kicking the tires does not need to know that everything is right, but enough things. It’s their job to give direction and input. If you need nothing but money, chances are people don’t want to be involved, they want to steer some. If you refuse all input, you don’t want a deal.

INVESTING IS POKER

Sharks don’t reveal their hand right up front, that’s your job. You’re selling. Negotiations are fraught with issues. And due diligence is key. Just because you got a deal on the show, that does not mean you got a deal in real life. When the cameras stop rolling the real work begins. You told a story, upon investigation, is it real?

EVERY DEAL IS DIFFERENT

How much equity, how much cash, a letter of credit? There’s no set term sheet. And every business is different. Some have cash flow issues, others need distribution… That’s one of the first things an investor asks, WHAT DO YOU WANT? The conversation starts there.

SMART IS ATTRACTIVE

You don’t have to finish college, but it helps.

When someone throws a curve ball, can you react? Can you think and respond on the spot? Can you do anything but get flustered and repeat what you’ve already said? Investors are looking for grace under pressure, from those intelligent enough to cogitate, to know that as hard as they’ve thought about it, they haven’t thought of everything.

YOU, NOT YOUR IDEA

The idea, the music, the product, is secondary to yourself. People are investing in YOU! Oftentimes the sharks don’t bid, but say the creator is a winner. Sometimes you just haven’t found the right idea, the right musical format. Winners keep changing, looking for gold. Losers just double down and tell everybody who disagrees that they’re wrong and will be proven so. They don’t realize everybody is laughing at them.

DON’T REINVENT THE WHEEL

“Shark Tank” is based on the Japanese TV show “Dragon’s Den.” You don’t always have to reinvent the wheel. You can take a preexisting concept and make it your own. And it’s about perseverance more than splash. There’s so much noise today that it’s about doing good work, being in the marketplace and waiting for word to spread. “Shark Tank” premiered in 2009. It doubled its ratings and audience over four years. It’s a long haul, some make it immediately, most don’t.

Every artist should watch “Shark Tank,” religiously. To see how the game is played.

But a great artist creates something ethereal, that is only quantifiable after the fact.

But there are very few great artists out there.

Being a businessman is very different from being an artist. It’s extremely rare that people are both. You need help. Take it!

“ZinePak Emerges Victorious From ‘Shark Tank’ With $725,000”

“With More than $3 Million in Annual Sales, Why ZinePak Decided to Go on ‘Shark Tank'”

Mark Cuban was out. He thought the company was based in desperation, that physical is dying. But the other sharks wanted to make a deal. Was it ignorance or pure numbers? That’s one thing about an investor, he may be interested only in the money. If you want someone to hold your hand and be your best friend you’re dreaming. It’s about the cold hard cash.

As for ZinePak… Two women, negotiating the waters successfully. Selling millions. They could do it, can you?

The PIGS, that’s what we called them back when I was growing up.

And I still don’t trust the police, they’ve never been there when I needed them and have most certainly hassled me when I have not.

Welcome to the sixties, minus the draft. Wherein the younger generation mistrusts their elders and…

Wait a minute, that’s not what’s happening at all.

The educated whites are chummy with their parents. They’re all about succeeding and paying no taxes and making sure the government protects their assets.

The underclass?

Being pushed further down.

America’s a bad Hieronymus Bosch painting. All of us struggling, but not realizing we’re in hell.

Read the statistics, it’s the poor who donate to charity, who help their brother. Everybody else is just out for themselves.

Hate to harp on Tidal, but it’s evidence of the backlash. The rich and famous believe they’re admirable, that they deserve their wealth and status. Kind of like the Republicans dissing the 47%. Not realizing that without customers, you’ve got no business. Unless, of course, your customer is the government… Too many bad boy corporations suck on the government tit and complain about regulation at the same time.

But it seems that some of us are mad as hell and ain’t gonna take it any more.

But, once again, it’s not the richies, the upwardly mobile, not the artists.

Because the artists are in bed with the rich. You don’t want to take a stand, you might lose your endorsement with the corporation. The radio station might stop playing your record. Why are we all paying fealty to a structure we hate? Bitching and then hoping we can get some milk from the corporate teat.

That’s right, government and corporations run this country. In bed with each other. And they do their best to keep us scared. You’d better give up your privacy or they’re gonna drop a nuke in Montana and steal your baby in Arkansas. Everybody’s so scared of loss that they don’t complain. As their future is pulled out from under them.

But when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose.

Which is why protest is being led by those without assets.

The Supreme Court tells us racism is history, we need no voter protections.

The corporations tell us if we just deregulated, the nation would soar, throwing safety out the window. And you’d better not ask for a higher wage or health insurance, because then… The stockholders would not make a profit and the execs would not make double digit millions and when you got your opportunity there’d be nothing left.

YOU’RE NOT GONNA GET YOUR OPPORTUNITY!

They came for the instruments in the schools. Music must go. Education is about science and math, the humanities are a joke, and don’t ever ask me to pay taxes to contribute to the common good, if it doesn’t benefit me, I’m out.

They came for your personal information. Edward Snowden stood up for you, the way artists once did. But today a techie’s got more brains and more soul than anybody making music. Music is about bitching about what you don’t have. What you do have is a platform and a voice. And funny, when you get down in the pit and stand up for what’s right people rally around you, they clamor for more. But today’s stars believe their audience is the media, not their fans.

But I don’t expect you to do anything. Not the artist class. Not those who keep bitching about Spotify payments. Because you just don’t get it. You’re part of the problem, not the solution.

When we were all middle class, we could fight for what’s right.

Now that we’re divided, we can’t unite on a single thing.

And I won’t bore you with Kansas welfare restrictions. It all doesn’t mean a thing.

What does mean a thing is the Arab Spring. Whose flames were fanned by modern media, i.e. the internet. The truth is we can all see the story, and not only from one side. And we’re all sitting here wondering what happened to our country. How did the police become a paramilitary organization, able to perform with no regard to basic human rights, rallying around each other in defiance whenever questioned.

It happened this way once before. And history repeats.

That’s right, the African-Americans couldn’t take it anymore. They wanted to use the same restrooms, the same water fountains and the same buses.

Protest music came thereafter.

I’m just warning you here. I don’t expect you to do anything. You’re a good American, you’re a follower. But keep watching. There’s a coterie of Americans you denigrate who’ve had just about enough and are willing to put their lives on the line. And sure, some of them are crossing the line, but you stole music, didn’t you?

Because when a system is unjust, people rebel.

Music should not be free, but when the label makes you pay fifteen bucks for a CD with one good song you’re just waiting to exact retribution.

Those in underprivileged economies, the inner city where the schools suck and the police are oppressive and every other black man is in jail, have been waiting for their moment to fight back.

It happened in Baltimore.

Before that in Ferguson and New York City.

And if you’re debating the details you’re missing the point. Which is you can only keep people down for so long. America is a great country, but it’s not the best in the world on every benchmark. We need to look at ourselves, we need to do what’s right.

But that’ll happen when they get money out of politics.

And seeing as how that’s no time soon, expect more flash points, expect more rebellion.

It’s happening here.

And it’s becoming more clear.

For what it’s worth.

And there used to be music.  No longer.

In just the last few generations, we have witnessed the complete devolution of the mainstream of music from the intricacies and demands of jazz, swing and modern “classical”; the subtleties and finesse of the best of popular song writing; the mastery of “folk” instruments and vocal performance in the best of folk and rock; the singular high-mindedness of the greatest singer songwriters; and the hard-won craft of playing and writing and creating meaningful work, to four bar grids of “cut and paste” monotony over which someone writes shallow nursery rhymes about partying, trucks and beer or bitches and bling, or whines in hardly rhyming verse about their sad little white boy or girl life.

There are occasional exceptions, of course.  But where are the anthems, the protest songs, the songs to march to or the ideas to fight for, the truths to believe in.  Instead it’s all about “me”.

“Glory” from the film “Selma” is the great current exception – as is Kendrick Lamarr’s work. And – yes – let’s not forget the valiant Dixie Chicks!!  But mostly there’s little more than a bit of catchy ear candy and nice beats.

All that talk about the “me generation” turns out to be true.  We lost “us” in the 80’s and since then we only care about ourselves and our personal gain;  we only want the money.

The rhetoric endures – as it does in politics.  There’s not a single human working in the “music industry” who doesn’t say that they’re in it for the music, for the art form.  Just like there’s no politician who doesn’t claim to be doing it to serve their country or community. But the reality is, we’re all in everything for the pay off.  Period.

There used to be meaning.  No more.

With our music and words, we used to fight for freedom;  we used to incite change;  we used to elevate each other;  we used to speak for all of us and literally move mountains.

No more.

Thanks for reminding us of this, Bob.

Bob Ezrin