You’ve just got to make it to January 1st.

“Guess who died?”

That’s how my father would wake up my mother most mornings. A notoriously late sleeper, my mom was the opposite of my eager beaver dad, who’d already been out buying donuts while the rest of were still under the covers. And having perused the Bridgeport “Post,” he just couldn’t help but inform my mother of the latest passings, even though she complained this was no way to be awakened.

I’ve turned into my dad. It happens surreptitiously, while you’re not paying attention, as you get older, and then, sometime when you’re an adult, you realize you’ve not only got your father’s DNA imprinted upon you, but his identity too. You just can’t shake it. And I can’t stop telling people who died.

Like Snuff Garrett. Do you know the L.A. “Times” didn’t even print an obituary? He produced Gary Lewis & the Playboys, and if that doesn’t impress you, he did Vicki Lawrence’s “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” and Cher’s “Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves” and “Half-Breed” too. Amazing how the past is plowed under, if you weren’t there it’s like it didn’t even happen. Does anybody remember the Commander, Mike Chapman? He and Nicky Chinn were gods decades back. But they’re still alive, at least Chapman is…Chinn? Probably. But you get old enough and you can’t remember who’s passed and who hasn’t. I laughed how Paul Simon and his band couldn’t remember who was dead or alive in “One Trick Pony,” now I know it’s a function of age. It all becomes a blur. And soon you’re gone too.

And a couple of weeks back, Luigi Creatore died. Don’t worry, I didn’t know him either, but I did know his songs, he and his partner Hugo Peretti, known together as Hugo & Luigi, produced Little Peggy March’s “I Will Follow Him,” one of the great singles of the sixties. And they produced Sam Cooke’s “Twistin’ the Night Away” and “Chain Gang,” never mind “Wonderful World.” And they not only did Jimmie Rodgers’s “Honeycomb,” they did Van McCoy’s “The Hustle” too! And I’d never even heard of them! I wonder if the Grammys will make a big deal about them, their work will last longer than those of the acts nominated for Album of the Year. How come today’s music never lasts?

Meanwhile, read Luigi Creatore’s obituary here:

Luigi Creatore, Songwriter and Producer for Presley and Sam Cooke, Dies at 93

where you’ll also learn Luigi was part of the team that did the Tokens’ “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”…what a career!

And although you’ll enjoy the history lesson, you’ll be wowed by the picture of Snuff Garrett and his colleague Leon Russell in Garrett’s obit. Once upon a time, Leon was not the Master of Space and Time, just another talented musician on the make:

Snuff Garrett, Record Producer Who Made a String of Hits, Dies at 77

And just yesterday, Little Stevie Wright of the Easybeats passed away. Vanda and Young get all the credit, but it was Little Stevie who sang the incredible vocal in “Friday On My Mind.” What a track that was, I can remember hearing it over the PA on a bitter day at Brodie Mountain, now they’re both gone. Live long enough and everything that was meaningful to you ceases to exist.

But it’s not only musicians who succumb in December.

Meadowlark Lemon just died. Do youngsters know who he is? Back when the NBA was still white, the Harlem Globetrotters were as big or bigger than any of the league’s teams. And its star was the clown known as Meadowlark, who lived around the corner from me in Fairfield, Connecticut. In a tract home. Where there wasn’t another African-American around. I never saw Meadowlark in the flesh, but his son used to hang at the playground, he was a good dude.

And then there’s Haskell Wexler, one of the best cinematographers of all time. Not only did he shoot “Coming Home,” but he did “Bound for Glory,” which looked like the Dust Bowl, and “Days of Heaven,” one of the most richly beautiful films of all time. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg, Wexler shot “American Graffiti” and “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and even “Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf.” And it’s not only the credits, it’s the look, Wexler was an artist, someone unique. And at the height of his fame he made his own film, wrote and directed it too, called “Medium Cool.” It made an indelible impression upon me, not only because of its visceral quality but because of the use of Love’s song “Emotions” in it, as in “Arthur Lee and…” Wexler took a risk, put it all on the line, the Chicago Democratic Convention of ’68 was a vital part of the film. This was back when artists stood for something, when they weren’t so worried about their commerciality that they refused to
take a stand. I ran into Haskell at a Thanksgiving party last year. He didn’t hear so well but was stunned that I knew who he was and had so much respect for him. And to think of all the bozos lapping up the accolades these days. Haskell Wexler was a giant, and the Oscars will make a big deal about his death. No, they won’t, but you’ll see him in the “In Memoriam” montage.

And how about Stein Eriksen? Ski Like Stein! That’s what we all wanted to do, I got his book for Hanukkah. And watched him flip on TV. He was debonair and the true icon of skiing before Jean Claude Killy and was never eclipsed by the French master. I only saw him once, in front of his namesake lodge in Deer Valley.

And Ellsworth Kelly just passed, and Dave Henderson too!

And my uncle Herbie, my mother’s brother.

I don’t come from a large family. But now only my mother is left. Herbie lasted a long time, he died at 94, he was nearly 95. But I remember talking to him back in 2008, when he was wearing his Tufts hat, and he told me he went to the reunion but few attended, everybody else was dead. And you think you want to live forever, but you don’t. Because not only do you become frail, all your friends are gone, you’ve got no commonality, no frame of reference. Don’t envy those financial titans marrying twentysomethings, what do they talk about? We sang the theme song to “Car 54, Where Are You?” the other night, does anybody under fifty know that show? Under sixty? “There’s a holdup in the Bronx, Brooklyn’s broken out in fights…”

And when you’re young everything’s new and you think you’re going to live forever.

And then you age and you’ve seen it before but you understand it better, you’ve got context, you can deliver wisdom, but no one younger than you seems to care, they’re all just doing it for themselves.

So we get this inane worship of the young and stupid. Honoring someone for their youth is like honoring someone for being born, it doesn’t have much meaning, these individuals are far from fully-formed.

But then you become who you are, you’ve been there, done that and you pass.

It’s the way of the world, but it’s still incomprehensible. You were so vibrant and alive, and then no one cares about you anymore and just a few remember, no matter how great your contribution was.

So, if you’re trying to leave your mark, if you’re all about accumulation, you’re missing out. The truth is we’re all just grist for the mill and the best you can do is to have experiences and adventures that mean so much to you. Because ultimately you’re the only one who cares, the rest of us keep on keepin’ on, focused on our own little lives.

But when the giants fade away, when those who provided signposts in our lives are suddenly gone, we feel the emptiness, at least for a while, not only are we reminded of their humanity, their singular quality, their greatness, we’re confronted with the fact that life is evanescent, that it can be snuffed nearly instantly.

So take care of yourself. Go to the doctor, get those tests, no one is invulnerable, no one gets out of here alive. When you’re done, you’re done, no matter what anybody says. So make the most of your time while you’re here.

And know that people can have an impact. The ones mentioned above certainly did.

And pray that your loved ones make it through the holidays, it’s the hardest time.

1. Try to be great. In a world of overwhelming incompetence, where everybody’s vying for attention, we seek and glom on to great, and tell everybody we know about it. Unfortunately, because of the plethora of information great does not ascend to the top of the totem pole instantly anymore, but it’s the first step in the ladder to success. Forget the penumbra, the social media, the marketing, they’re subservient to the underlying product/endeavor. Everything great sells itself. Sure, ultimately a push helps. But it’s amazing how you can gain traction with great and great only. Great is hard to achieve. You know it when you get there. Your whole body tingles, you smile, you’re self-satisfied, you don’t even care if anybody else sees/hears what you’ve created, but you know when they do they’re going to have a reaction. Don’t play it safe, play for a reaction.

2. Beware of self-hype. Others with stronger personalities and better contacts and more money will spread the world how great they are. You’ll read it in newspapers, online, and it will make you feel inadequate. Don’t fall for the bait. Tireless self-promoter is a gig, but it’s got nothing to do with art. Furthermore, in today’s era, just because you get the word out that does not mean you gain traction. Also, “Hamilton” tells us you don’t know what’s going on unless you’re in the room. Castles are built in the air, don’t fall for the story, it’s rarely true. People don’t want to talk about the hard work, the payoffs, the manipulation, the lies and deceit. They want to make it look like everything fell into their lap and they’re the luckiest person in the world. Don’t buy it. Be skeptical, search for the real story. If you predicate your success on the footsteps/careers of others you will hit potholes, because you don’t really know what they went through.

3. Play the long game. Now, more than ever, it’s about being in it forever, not momentarily. Streaming pays over time and we’ve already forgotten every winner of the “Voice.” News is a 24/7 enterprise with very little sticking. Tragically, the Planned Parenthood shooting was trumped by the massacre in San Bernardino. If you think you’re going to win by dominating the news cycle, know that only those with the deepest pockets selling the blandest mainstream pop can win that game, and they rarely do.

4. Lead with your product, frontloading is passe. The advance buildup works for one time events like boxing matches. Art has a very long arc. If you squander your budget at the outset your product will probably die. Marketing is now about reaction, about finding a small fire and turning it into a conflagration.

5. Only the dumbest of the dumb believe the press releases. Do you want to appeal to this audience? Substance sells. It’s just that substance takes a little bit longer to explain. If you’re going to talk to a reporter, if you’re going to post online, try to say something real, try to be genuine, this is what people react to.

6. Data rules. Now, more than ever, it’s about the numbers. And the numbers don’t lie. The Sorkin Steve Jobs movie tanked. As did Carly Rae Jepsen’s album. Smoke and mirrors are passe. The younger generation knows this more than the oldsters. You can see the number of streams on Spotify and soon you’ll have even more data indicating the success or lack thereof of your project. If your numbers are low, either be happy or change. Don’t be sour grapes. No one’s got time for that anymore, life is too hard. The tools of creation are at your fingertips, don’t be afraid to remix your art, to pivot. Sometimes you change one little thing and the whole picture changes. Ignore/stop listening to those who keep doing the same thing and bitch they’re not getting the attention they deserve.

7. Just because you were famous and made a living in the old pre-internet era that does not mean you’re entitled to make a living in the new. That was an artificially controlled world, of scarcity. If you got through the barrier, people knew who you were. Now you have to earn your stripes. It may turn out with so much available, people are just not that interested in what you’re doing. As for those lamenting the loss of the old model, you’re now living in the most egalitarian era for art ever. It used to be nearly impossible to get a record deal. Now you can be your own record company. But don’t expect just because you did it that people other than your mother and significant other will care. The bar has been raised, people have no time for mediocre, no time for good either. Sure, you need chops. But if those were enough the business would be ruled by Berklee graduates. No, what you need is inspiration. Which can come in an instant, any time, taking a shower, doing the dishes, taking a walk. The fuller your life, the greater your inspiration. Don’t be a slave to the screen.

8. Courage is underrated. The best put their lives on the line. They reveal their innermost thoughts so the rest of us can relate, so we don’t feel so alone. Are you willing to go naked, are you willing to bare your soul? Don’t confuse this with Instagram/Facebook. There’s no context there, there’s no art. We want to see humanity in a song.

9. You won’t know what your one big break was until after it happened. A career is a long winding road upon which you must keep up hope, because you’re going to be confronted with endless disappointments. If you think one missed opportunity killed your career, you’re a chump.

10. You can work with the usual suspects, but we’re most interested in that which is new and different, that’s what turns our heads. Grunge eviscerated hair bands and if you think the popster paradigm is going to rule forever, you have no sense of history. No one is forever, change comes quickly and violently. That does not mean your left field project will break through, just that some left field project will break through.

11. If you’re only in it for the money you’re in the wrong profession. Art is about power. Touching someone’s emotions, touching someone’s soul, is richer and more valuable than any physical product ever. The key is to get people on your side with your truth and move mountains. We’ve equated successful artists with their bank accounts. We’ve got to equate artists with their minds. Today’s artists play to the media, they take camera crews to their meetings with sick children, everything is promotion. Wrong. The best promotion is your identity encapsulated in your art. In their heyday Steely Dan didn’t go on the road. Jefferson Airplane challenged the establishment at their peak, just listen to “Volunteers.” John Lennon became an icon for stating that the Beatles were bigger than Jesus, the truth. What kind of crazy world do we live in where Donald Trump owns the media by saying what no one else will, his personal truth, and every so-called “artist” is afraid of going on the record for fear of alienating a potential customer. Quick, name the clergymen who got their flocks to burn Beatle records after John Lennon’s comment. You can’t. Insignificant players will gain the spotlight for a moment, but do not let them distract you from your mission. You will have moments of insecurity and doubt, you will be ready to give up. But don’t do so because some bozo with a keyboard who lives in his mom’s basement is jealous of your success and wants to keep you down.

12. We’re always ready. For the new, the great, the exceptional. If you touch our souls we’ll give you enough money to survive, and if you’re asking for more than that, you’re not an artist. Don’t focus on cash but audience. If you’re not trying to reach as many people as possible, you don’t believe in your art. Sure, 1,000 true fans will keep you alive, but you’ll have no social impact. Your goal is to put a dent in the universe. Start building your rocket.

“Abbey Road” is not my favorite Beatles album.

But “You Never Give Me Your Money” is my favorite track on it.

By 1969 the Beatles had ascended to the superstar status they deserved, far beyond competitors like the Rolling Stones, never mind the American groups. I know that sounds funny, after breaking on to the scene in 1964 the Fab Four never left it, but we expected them to. Bands were evanescent, one hit wonders ruled. Not only did the Beatles usher in credibility and longevity, they constantly pushed the envelope, we never knew where they were going, they were ahead of us, so different from today, when the same guy makes all the same tunes and we’re supposed to think that Taylor Swift is a breakthrough and the country acts employ Les Pauls to play a facsimile of seventies rock and roll.

But then came the White Album.

The breakthrough was “Sgt. Pepper.” But it had no hit singles. It was different, but almost a last step, where do you go from there?

To a double LP with no cover art.

Of course there was an episode in between, the ill-fated “Magical Mystery Tour,” with its glorious first side and second side of hits which was an EP in the UK, but no one ever saw that as a regular album, it just filled the gap, at Christmas, a marketing exercise in the U.S.

But no one was prepared for the White Album. Which inaugurated the concept of double albums to our detriment, especially in the CD era, where one CD is the length of an old school double vinyl album. But the White Album was imperfect, an endless sprawl, a journey to the center of the mind of four heroes who were suddenly somewhat more because of the illustration of their rough edges. Everybody had a favorite cut off of the White Album, whether the bombastic, laughable “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?” or “Rocky Raccoon” or the slowed-down, non-hit version of “Revolution” (who leaves the hit off the album, never mind include “Revolution 9,” which we neither understood nor liked but listened to.) The White Album permeated the consciousness of America’s youth, was the coda to the tumultuous year of 1968, and then came “Abbey Road.”

We heard rumors the band was breaking up. But they were only that. There was no information pipeline. You could be the biggest star in the world and live in near-privacy. All we had were the records and the radio, our aural soundtrack on the go, before the Walkman, never mind the MP3.

We knew the release date, we had cars, we bought it when it came out and you heard “Abbey Road” everywhere. We sang “Come Together” in the school library, Gary Fialk tapping out the rhythm with his fingers on the table and then we were off. George Harrison’s “Something” was the big hit, we were stunned the way “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” ended so abruptly, as if someone lifted the needle at the end of the first side.

But really it was all about the second side, the suite.

After “Here Comes The Sun,” one of George Harrison’s sweetest numbers, presaging his gigantic success with “All Things Must Pass” the following year.

The most famous song on the second side was “She Came In Through The Bathroom Window,” because of its obtuse lyrics and the fact that we already knew it, having been included on dearly-departed Joe Cocker’s second LP in a similar arrangement.

After buying the LP the one I couldn’t get over was “Polythene Pam,” because of the aggressiveness and the intensity and the stereo effects going from ear to ear in my headphones.

At this late date one can argue that the most memorable song is “The End,” with its endlessly repeated quote, “The love you take is equal to the love you make.”

But forty-odd years later, the one I love best, the one that goes through my brain, is “You Never Give Me Your Money.”

Maybe it’s the piano intro, so honest and reflective. With the distorted guitar leavening the sound as it goes on. Remember when guitars were the essence of rock and roll, remember when we all lived for rock and roll?

You never give me your money
You only give me your funny paper
And in the middle of negotiations you break down

Now the problem with the Beatles is they’ve been overanalyzed, speak your personal truth and some scholar will come out of the woodwork and tell you your interpretation is wrong. But the truth is when we became indoctrinated by these tunes, we knew no backstory, all we had was our own reaction, and as Bob Dylan told us, this was the most important. And money was important in 1969, but it was not the religion it is today, it was a means to survival. Once you had enough you could get in your VW bus or stick out your thumb and set out across this great county of ours, go on an adventure, back when where you went and what you experienced was more important than what you accumulated.

I never give you my number
I only give you my situation
And in the middle of investigation I break down

Reluctance, obfuscation, the exact opposite of twenty first century living wherein everybody reveals everything all the time, where being overexposed is the essence of life. We say we’re individuals, but really we’re just parroting each other, looking to fit in.

Out of college money spent
See no future pay no rent
All the money’s gone, nowhere to go

Ain’t that a laugh.

Of course there are those who cannot get jobs living with mom and dad, but the truth is everybody today is a winner, at least in their own mind, on a path to victory. They’re world-beaters. Reflection is taboo. But the “Graduate” had it right, graduation is depressing, what then, what to do, who to become? I was a ski bum. No one does that anymore, certainly not from an elite college. Everybody’s on a fast track to nowhere, which is where we truly went, in search of self-discovery.

But oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go
Oh, that magic feeling, nowhere to go

I just lost two gigs, nearly all my guaranteed income disappeared in a day. Frightening, not easy to recover from. But there’s a creeping sense of freedom, I can be whoever I want to be. I’m not sure what that is, where I’m going, but a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders, a role music played back before it was just aural grease riding alongside you as you danced together in a group.

But as poignant as the lyrics of “You Never Give Me Your Money” may be, it’s the twists and turns of the ride that are infatuating.

It starts off so slow and dreamy, and then it starts to run, with a treated vocal, as if you exited the building and were running down the street with a smile on your face. There’s that deep dive bass, holding down the enterprise, anchoring you to where you are, and then it’s all thrown over in pursuit of exploration and fun, illustrating how we should live our lives.

And then there’s that magic feeling, when it all stops and we all revel in the power of being fully present and alive, and that’s what it’s truly about, eyes wide open, hair blown back, taking it all in.

And if you do it right, you let go, go with the flow, it’s truly like a dream. Pick up your bags, get in your car, get away from here, forge new friendships, have new experiences, live your life to the fullest, make the most of it.

And who knows if all good children go to heaven, all we know is that guitar alone makes us feel like we’re surfing the stratosphere. The endlessly repeated hypnotic groove has us nodding our heads in agreement, we were along for the trip, we were all in it together, blazing trails at the tail end of the sixties.

And there you have it, the difference between yesterday and today. The evolution from possibility to disillusionment. The change from the military being the enemy to being embraced. The dissipation of hope.

No one gives you their money anymore.

If you’re broke you’re told to get off the couch and get it together, losers are not tolerated in America.

People beg on GoFundMe.

Bankers have all the money and we wonder how things have gone topsy-turvy.

And then we put on the Beatles and realize it doesn’t have to be that way.

That’s the power of art. That’s why we gave them all of our money. That’s why we still do. We want more of that magic feeling.

You Never Give Me Your Money – Spotify

There’s a first mover advantage.

That’s right, let Spotify stream your music early and you get a check or stock or both. Wait until the downside of the curve and you get bupkes.

So let this be a lesson to all of you Luddites out there, the best way to leave money on the table is to refuse to play, to refuse to embrace the future, to insist on the past trumping the future, and I’ve never known that to happen.

The Beatles could have been leaders. But now it’s all about the cash, that’s what moves the Fab Four. And this time their reluctance to take action is to their financial detriment.

This is big news, but not for the reason you think it is. I mean sure, it’s a validation of streaming services, but you just had to use YouTube to know streaming was not only the future, but already here. But this is the first time it’s not about now, but tomorrow. Yesterday and Today? No, Tomorrow Never Knows. But what we do know is that the Beatles are going to get paid every time someone listens to their music in the future. RSO may have released the “Sgt. Pepper” soundtrack and sold tonnage (and gotten tonnage returned), but how often have the Beatles been paid when their old vinyl records were spun? Or those eighties CDs? Never.

But now they will.

It’s like getting a retirement account without opening one. And sure, the Beatles may be past Social Security age, but all the young acts who are often dumb will now be taken care of in their later years, not only by publishing rights, songs played on the radio, but by streams.

So the game is completely different.

I don’t expect the media to do hosannas for more than a week, if that. We’ll see the usual press releases about the number of tracks streamed, the percentage of the respective services’ volume that was the Beatles, what that might be worth, but then crickets.

You see, once again, the music business is the canary in the coal mine, far advanced beyond not only movies, but news. The film business is Balkanized, you can’t get everything in one place. Furthermore, try getting an accounting based on how many times people actually streamed your show on Netflix or Hulu. Hell, the deals themselves aren’t even structured that way. In the film business it’s all about now, in music it’s all about tomorrow.

And every day the newspapers and news sites have to reinvent the wheel. Who wants yesterday’s papers? Almost no one. Whereas if you write a classic tune, people want it forever.

Or do they?

We’ll find out how long the Beatles’ legacy lasts. Certainly longer than the rest of the classic rock titans. The twenty second century? The twenty third? It’s amazing how greatness is plowed under, Steve Jobs is already in the rearview mirror. But John Lennon and George Harrison have been dead for a while and their influence is still being felt. That’s the power of art. You may conceive it in an instant, execute it in an hour, but when done right, it lasts.

So where does this leave the rearguard?

We still don’t know how popular the Adele album is. We can crunch streaming numbers and see the impact of everybody else’s album, but… We might find out that “25” is not as popular as we think. It might hit streaming services and turn out to be a dud. We get real time statistics always, telling us what’s being listened to and not. Major Lazer & DJ Snake had the most played track in Spotify history with “Lean On,” but it’s got a fraction of the traction in mainstream media that “25” has. It could be bigger, or almost equal.

The data generation is all about truth, about facts. And in the arts, it’s hitting music first. Hype has already been decommissioned. That’s why acts like Beyonce and Eric Church and so many more are putting out their albums with no advance buildup. Because they know it’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters is if people listen.

It’s a long road, well, in honor of the Beatles, let’s call it a long WINDING road. It took fifteen years, but we’ve finally got solidification in the music sphere. Disruption is on hold. Piracy has been quelled. We’re all on the same page. And this is a good thing.

Are there battles yet to be fought?

Of course. Publishing on Pandora. Accounting transparency.

But progress is being made. Kobalt is leading the charge on transparency and when the boomers retire and their children take over light will reign, because the younger generation does not believe in duplicity, but honesty. Let the best man win.

And let the best streaming service win.

Which one will do.

And before long, they will all be at CD/FLAC/high quality. All those bozos bitching about sound will shut up. As for Neil Young…he didn’t get the memo, he who lives in the past is doomed to be a sideshow, if they get ink at all. Anybody want a Pono?

Haven’t heard much about that one recently.

But Spotify’s in the news.

And Rdio failed.

And Tidal will fail or be sold.

And Deezer’s IPO was canceled.

We’re on the verge of further consolidation.

But that’s got nothing to do with music, that’s all about business.

And Brian Epstein was one of the worst businessmen of all time. But he achieved the ultimate goal, he made the Beatles stars, the biggest of the modern era. To the point their moves still make headlines today, to the point that people still want to listen.

Will the world stream the catalog en masse tomorrow?

Not so much, no matter what anybody says.

But in the future, when you get a hankering for “A Hard Day’s Night” or “I Want To Hold Your Hand” or “Come Together” or…

It’ll be just a click away.

They call that the on demand economy.

That’s where we now live.

The Beatles know.

Do you?