I saw Napoleon’s hat. Two of them, in fact. Along with his tomb. And his white horse, it was stuffed!

What can I tell you, it’s all about the LIGHT! The clouds. It’s every painting you’ve ever seen, you know how the artists were inspired.

And the French people? Keeping up their rep as rude. They were even dismissive in the tourist office, where you’d expect they’d tolerate my Americanism.

But they’ve got their style and the city is vibrant and it’s inspirational in a way no other metropolis is.

We started off in search of sunglasses. I lost mine in a black cab in London. I leaned over to pay the bill, to put the money through the window, and after greeting Richard at the River Cafe I noticed they were gone. If I’d taken Uber I’d have been able to retrieve them.

Uber… It’s causing a revolution in Paris. As a matter of fact, tomorrow the cabbies are going on strike. When was the last time anybody in America went on strike? When we still believed in unions, before the rich got all the money and we were lost contemplating our navels. You can understand why there was revolution in France, when you view the palaces. There are palaces in the U.S. too, you just haven’t seen them, they’re behind walls. Friday night I was with a billionaire and a man who makes $50 million a year. At least the former worked hard, or his father did, he started his own business. The latter? America is heading for a dark space. Most people don’t know how bad they’ve got it, because they’re not exposed to the wealthy and all they keep hearing is taxes must be lower and you’ve got to let freedom reign. How much freedom is there when the government is spying on you and you’re so busy working you haven’t got time to think?

Unlike in Val d’Isere, few here speak English. Communicating is difficult. That’s the nature of foreign travel, the wasted time, while you figure out how to get where you want to. The Solaris sunglass store was a two minute walk away, but it took us half an hour to find it.

And after my visit to the tourist office, where I purchased a museum pass, I was off to the Musee d’Orsay, where all the Impressionists reside.

Inspired and depressed me all at the same time. To see Manet’s Dejueuner sur l’herbe in the flesh is positively jaw-dropping. This was the turning point, this was the depiction of modern life that outraged the establishment and paved the way for said Impressionists. I learned that at Middlebury.

But that was so long ago.

Did I live up to my promise?

Or did I get so caught up in tech, in making a living, such that I lost the plot and avoided the destination.

Culture runs the country. And ours is bankrupt. Without artists we’re nowhere, we’ve got nothing to live for. And ours are so busy chasing the buck with their uneducated selves that what we’re served is sans calories.

Monet’s Rouen Cathedral series. Van Gogh’s bedroom. Those paintings of Baudelaire and Rimbaud. Once upon a time, painters and poets ran the world. Or at least inspired it. Or catalogued it.

But now the only artists we’ve got are phony or wannabe. The latter saying their intentions are pure despite their efforts being substandard.

So it was bittersweet seeing the art. It made me want to turn back the hands of time. And chronicle feelings as opposed to transgressions. Emotions as opposed to digits.

And then on to the Army Museum.

I wanted to go to the resistance museum, but it was too far away.

But I was blown away by the history of conflict. How it was constant. How the weaponry was antiquated. How Napoleon Bonaparte conquered the Continent and then lost it.

I’m confused as to the proper path. Is it all about lifestyle and good times or pursuing truth?

Furthermore, in this connected world I’m suddenly fearful. Tweet against the government and they’ve got you on record, you’re a suspect. And you might fall in line, but it’s those pushing the edges who protect your freedom.

So I’m inspired. I want to go to the museum once a week back home. To commune with those who pursued their dream.

And I don’t want to wait forty more years to come back to Paris, like I did this time.

And I don’t want you to think I’m bummed out. It’s just that my head is a ball of confusion. I’m thrilled, but puzzled by the passing of time. More of my life is behind me than ahead. I’ve only got a short time left to make a difference.

There’s an animal on the track. Or a train derailed. Info is sketchy, all I know is the Eurostar is delayed, so I figured I’d weigh in with a report.

Greetings from London, England. Where I went with Felice’s family for a screening of “Breakfast At Tiffany’s” at the Royal Albert Hall. Amazing to see a movie where everybody’s dead. Like a time capsule. So alive on screen, yet the actors are as dated as the automobiles. Watching one wonders if Dave Barry had it right, that our parents lived the life…of freedom, of drinking, of partying, of a world with no scrutiny other than that of your next door neighbors.

We also went to see the Kinks play “Sunny Afternoon.”

Turned my head. Is it true all greatness emanates from those on a lark? Just like the Steves went to the Homebrew Computer Club because they were nerds infatuated with machines, Ray Davies and his clan didn’t do it to get rich, but because they were infected by the sound, they wanted to be musicians, not stars.

And that’s why they got screwed.

But it’s also why they made such great music.

Who knew what a fair publishing deal was? Who knew how to deal with the American unions? All Ray Davies knew how to do was speak from the heart, to tell his story, which still resonates decades later. The highlight of the show? “Dead End Street,” which is meaningless in the USA, as a tune, but resonates in subject matter. Do we have any future or are we stuck in our station forevermore? Ray and the rest of the British Invasion were doing their best to avoid the factory, their goal wasn’t to sell out to the corporation and become world famous, but rather to sing their song, and see where it took them.

Kinda like the Allen Klein book. There was no use for the man after everybody else figured out the systems. Just like Bill Graham invented rock promotion and then the managers figured out how to make all the money. When a scene is unformed…sharks with character move in, but the result resonates.

And I went to see Five Seconds Of Summer at Wembley. What a hole that arena is. Like they set it up yesterday and could tear it down tomorrow. The ceilings to the dressing rooms were so low I was worried about banging my head, and I’m vertically challenged. As for claustrophobia…

But that didn’t matter to the 11,000 in attendance. Girls who knew every word and sang along. Music is just fine, it’s the sound of youth.

And there was an accident on stage, the guitarist walked into the pyro, and it’s funny how a scene can go from pedestrian to intense in a moment. That’s life, while you’re thinking what you’re gonna do next, reality swerves in and throws you for a loop.

And London is inundated with tourists. Supposedly Paris is worse.

And it’s so far away from L.A. That’s one advantage to New York, the proximity to Merry Olde and the Continent.

But the weird thing is it’s just not as foreign, because of modern communication techniques, the internet keeps us close. But something is lost in the process…our privacy, the ability to feel you’re living an exotic life far away from home.

So see “Sunny Afternoon” if you want to know what it’s like to be in a band. Keeping the members together is a chore unto itself.

And opening for 5SOS was Hey Violet, Modest Management’s new client. Richard Griffiths told me about his five finger approach. You had to have talent, a good work ethic, good management and with all that you would get lucky.

Oops, forgot one of the middle fingers!

But our train just got into the station, got to wrap it up! Bye!

Steely Dan’s 1972 debut gets no love, despite having two smash hits and a legendary track. Possibly this is because it features multiple lead singers. This was before we knew that Steely Dan was charting its own course in the history of rock and roll, positively sui generis, and all the talk is about the later albums, even the commercially disappointing second, “Countdown To Ecstasy,” but before they were exploring, testing limits, taking us to heretofore unknown places, Steely Dan produced an album so exquisite it flummoxed the cognoscenti. They didn’t know if it was a singles band, since at this point many hip bands had no hits, and the Top Forty crowd still listening to AM had no idea of the band’s depth. Furthermore, the record came out on the positively lame label ABC and the only cred Donald Fagen and Walter Becker had was playing with Jay and the Americans, and that was no cred at all. But if I could only take one Steely Dan LP to a desert isle, “Can’t Buy A Thrill” would be
it.

DO IT AGAIN

You go back Jack do it again

A breath of fresh air, a tunnel into an unknown dark world that was so enticing, “Do It Again” lit up the radio in the winter of 72-73, it was a cut you could never burn out on, it was enticing.

There were hooks, but the magic was the sound itself, which was like nothing else on the radio, such a far cry from today.

Is it Denny Dias’s electric sitar, Fagen’s keyboards, Skunk Baxter’s six string or ALL OF IT!

We had no idea this was the beginning of a legendary band, we thought it was just a single.

We were wrong.

DIRTY WORK

“Do It Again” was the hit, but “Dirty Work” is the legendary track, prevalent for years on soft rock FM stations when they used to have those.

But…the lead is sung by David Palmer. And the song is such a classic the band still has to perform it live today, but it’s done by a backup singer. Still…this is bittersweet in the best way. This is the track that convinces you the band may be something more.

KINGS

A precursor to “Kid Charlemagne” and the rest of the “Royal Scam.”

It was almost too pop, before we knew that Steely Dan was not. The tracks although sometimes sweet were anything but lowest common denominator.

Love the piano notes, the solo by Elliott Randall, the band always had the best players, but it’s the overall concoction that enraptures, back when album tracks were no worse than the hits, when they took you on a journey of their own.

MIDNITE CRUISER

Felonius my old friend

Huh? When you finally bought “Can’t Buy A Thrill” after hearing it in a friend’s dorm room and you heard the above lyric you realized this was not a mainstream pop band, these were INTELLECTUALS!

You never hear this anymore. It’s sung by drummer Jim Hodder and features a solo by Skunk and it’s so sweet and melodic without being cloying…it’s part of the underlying magic that makes “Can’t Buy A Thrill” so great.

ONLY A FOOL WOULD SAY THAT

Lead vocals were shared by Fagen and Palmer. And it had jazz influences when we were suspicious of those. It’s my least favorite song on the record, but it’s far superior to so much of the dreck proffered today.

REELIN’ IN THE YEARS

The other hit. With the instantly recognizable Elliott Randall guitar solo and those LYRICS!

No wasted words, it’s hard to figure out what to quote.

You’ve been tellin’ me you’re a genius
Since you were seventeen
In all the time I’ve known you
I still don’t know what you mean

Cutting. With attitude. Our hits didn’t usually sound like this.

“Reelin’ In The Years” didn’t go as high up the chart as “Do It Again,” but it had an even larger place in the public consciousness. It was a rager with an underbelly. You could appreciate it if you were a mindless idiot or a brilliant Ph.D. candidate.

Are you reelin’ in the years
Stowin’ away the time

That’s what we baby boomers are doing. Reeling it all back, trying to make sense of what once, who we were, who we are now. Our music is part of our DNA, and it’s songs like “Reelin’ In The Years” that bridge the gap without playing as nostalgia. It’s not a moment in time, but a sacred item that keeps providing insight.

FIRE IN THE HOLE

Whereas “Only A Fool Would Say That” was too jazzy and soft, “Fire In The Hole” had an edge that illustrated the band was not playing to our preconceptions.

The more you listen, the more you like it.

I’d like to run out now
There’s nowhere left to turn

BROOKLYN (OWES THE CHARMER UNDER ME)

My favorite cut on the LP.

Maybe it’s Skunk’s steel guitar.

Maybe it’s David Palmer’s mellifluous vocal.

Maybe it’s the changes.

Maybe it’s the nearly incomprehensible lyrics.

Maybe it’s the whole damn thing, perfect from another world yet so right in the one the listener inhabits.

The chorus with the full background vocals…

I sang this song in my head for months years after this album came out. I was playing the record and it stuck. It provided optimism in an era that was pretty damn good. It was the soundtrack to my first serious romance.

CHANGE OF THE GUARD

Totally solid. With shared vocals by Palmer and Fagen. It’s pure pop without being such. You can’t listen without having your head nod, you sway to the music. It’s light and dark at the same time. How did they do this?

TURN THAT HEARTBEAT OVER AGAIN

A closer. A summation. The band is making its exit and your only choice is to flip the vinyl and play it all over again.

And there you have it. An album with no lowlights and extreme highlights. Something so good we didn’t know how to categorize it. Was this future pop or credible album rock or..?

Sometimes you start and we have no idea where you’re going.

Like with the first Led Zeppelin album.

Today bands start out as one thing and that’s what they remain. And they don’t get better, they just repeat themselves.

Steely Dan did not repeat itself. It expanded is oeuvre, became more edgy and then smoother and ultimately we got hooked and went along for the ride, despite the band giving up the road, despite the lack of huge hits, their music was all over FM radio, fans bought the LPs without hearing them first, dropped them on their turntables and went deeper.

And it all started with “Can’t Buy A Thrill.”

You should check it out. It’s all there.

Rhinofy-Can’t Buy A Thrill

Maybe Twitter’s unfixable.

Maybe it’s a fad like MySpace. Something gee-whiz, brand new, that is succeeded by a platform with more functionality.

Twitter told us we want instant news.

But it never turned into a comprehensible service.

It’s the internet at its worst. A small enterprise where you communicate amongst your circle, with a bit of access to the famous, which morphs into a tsunami of hype that we ultimately ignore.

Twitter is a great place to find out what’s happening right now. To read press releases. But it does a bad job of making the results comprehensible to the masses. It’s Alta Vista, and we’re waiting for Google.

If you think Jack Dorsey can save it, you’re unaware of Square. Another product that got left in the dust. Dorsey didn’t realize that starting is only the beginning. That to win you’ve got to deal with or supersede the entrenched elements, like the banks. Square was the small new thing that turned into the small old thing. And in today’s world that’s death. Furthermore, Dorsey’s image has been shattered by the naysayers. He seems to take too much credit, and based on Square’s results the rumors seem true.

So what to do?

Credit Chris Sacca for criticizing the company. This is something we rarely see at established businesses, a ground floor investor questioning management and direction. Everybody at the old company drinks the kool-aid, lines up behind the boss and marches towards the cliff. And then they’re surprised when someone steals their cheese, like in the music business.

Twitter is a feature, not a standalone service. Snapchat moves into entertainment and Twitter can’t even make its existing service usable. Twitter should be part of a search engine. Or should include other features. Maybe it’s less about having everybody tweet than categorizing info to make it accessible. We don’t care what the nobody has to say, and right now it’s only the vocal nobodies tweeting away. Along with the brands, both corporations and people, who want to keep us informed of their efforts and whereabouts. But this self-promotion seems phony and ultimately rings hollow.

So what we’ve learned once again is the internet eats companies. What is on everybody’s lips, clicked on today, is left on the scrapheap tomorrow. Remember when we all live-tweeted TV shows? That’s akin to remembering the Macarena, or the Hula Hoop. It’s already nostalgia.

But how come every fad is seen as lasting?

Maybe it’s our short term economy.

Maybe it’s media that needs something to trumpet.

The failure is certainly not the public. The public leads on the internet. And the public kicked the tires on Twitter and then abandoned it. Leaving it to those addicted to testify just like they did about Google Glass and now the Apple Watch. The sideshow becomes the main show, but only for a little while.

We want information.

We want to connect.

Twitter was a start.

It certainly won’t be the end.