Who’s gonna win the Grammy?

I don’t give a shit.

To think that the Grammys mean anything is to misunderstand the impact of the show. Your appearance could impact your career, a victory is barely more than meaningless. Come on, who won last year? The year before?

So I don’t get caught up in the Grammy run-up. It’s manufactured hype for an organization that needs to sell a TV show and a media that fawns over everything involving personalities/stars, and moves on the very next day.

And while I’m at it, why is LL Cool J the host? The faded rapper has the stage presence of a gnat and the charisma of a doorknob. Couldn’t they get someone with a personality, like Kevin Hart? Who could at least crack a few jokes between making fun of the lines he must read from the teleprompter?

But that’s what the Grammys are all about, playing it safe. If risk was involved, they’d be hosted by Katt Williams and there’d be GoPros backstage documenting the acts shooting up.

Furthermore, only with hindsight can we see what matters. Tom Waits matters more than almost everybody who won in his heyday of the mid to late seventies, and he’s still making notable music today. Then again, unlike everybody else from his generation, never mind those wet behind the ears, he’s not on the endorsement/sponsorship gravy train, begging corporations to sell out. Yes, they should have a trade show astride the awards show, wherein the acts flog themselves to the highest bidder.

But if Mark Cuban asks me to appear on his network…I’m gonna. Because this is a relationship business and Mark returns e-mails in a minute and is always lifting rocks to see what’s next. Imagine if he ran the Grammys, the man who gave the middle finger to the NBA…

So I drive downtown, get in the makeup chair and when the camera starts to roll, I’m a bloviating fool. I’m second-guessing the situation, trying to figure out who will win while stating who should.

But on the end of the dais is a guy from Pittsburgh who couldn’t be less rock and roll if he got a neck tattoo, and by the end of the program he’d convinced me he was right.

This was John Dick. Of CivicScience. A polling firm.

And he wasn’t borderline autistic, like Nate Silver. He radiated no nerd cred. And he kept talking about the numbers to the point where I had to get into it with him, WHO CARES WHAT THE PUBLIC HAS TO SAY!

And then Mr. Dick explained his methodology.

He trolls for people on PerezHilton. He gets them to answer the question of the day, and then places a cookie on their computer, tracking them as they move about the web. Sounds scary, doesn’t it? Welcome to the twenty first century!

But what Mr. Dick and his team of Carnegie Mellon technicians is looking for is…the ability of those he tracks to get it right. That’s the science. And last year he predicted five out of the six big Grammy winners. He was eighty percent at the Oscars. And before Nate Silver and the 2012 election, I’d pooh-pooh Mr. Dick and his numbers, but the geeks have inherited the earth and gut reactions might feel good, but can be totally wrong.

Don’t get me wrong, the gut is key to art. And research will tell you where you’ve been as opposed to where you’re going. But if you want to play the game as opposed to just pontificating, today you have to look at the numbers.

It got to the point where I was less interested in what I had to say than Mr. Dick’s conclusions.

And here they are:

Best New Artist: Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

Best Pop Duo/Group Performance: “Blurred Lines”

Best Rap Album: Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

Best Rock Album: Kings Of Leon

Best Country Album: Taylor Swift

Song of the Year: “Royals”

Record of the Year: “Royals”

Album of the Year: Macklemore & Ryan Lewis

Now if “Royals” wins, I’ll be thrilled. Kind of like when “Annie Hall” won Best Picture, Lorde DESERVES IT!

But now I’m speaking from personal opinion, and emotion. Science?

There are rules as to who can vote for what.

But while I’m busy handicapping, Mr. Dick is being cold and calculating. And if you’re interested in who’s gonna win, and as I stated above, I’m not, then…what he says counts.

We’ll see on Sunday night.

I disagreed with so many of his predictions. But the more he delineated his methodology, the more I became convinced. Because unlike so many Americans, never mind people in the music business, I believe in science. And data.

And so does Mark Cuban.

That’s right, while the rest of the Grammy penumbra is just regurgitating the inane hype, Mr. Cuban decided to go left field, to produce a whole show demonstrating that data delivers.

And if it does…

Expect this to become a big part of the story next year.

Neil Portnow will wake up and embrace it. If he’s smart. Because we’re more interested in the line than who’s really gonna win.

So we see the wheel turn once again. We see those who are educated and willing to take risks employing a new perspective and triumphing.

And you’ve got people like me speaking from the gut, wondering…am I wrong?

P.S. Here are a couple of clips. My makeup makes me look like I’m from Mars, having been too heavily irradiated by the sun. And I don’t think I give a revelatory performance, but if you want to see me in action, here I am:

“Who Should Win the GRAMMY for Best Rap Album of the Year?”

“Who Should Win the GRAMMY for Best Country Album?”

Today I went where music lives.

Downstairs they were rehearsing.

Upstairs I was listening to Sam Smith.

In the studio my buds Luke, Frampton and Don Was, supported by Kenny Aronoff, Greg Phillinganes and a complement of keyboardists and backup singers, were preparing for Ringo. Who entered at the appointed time, skinny and short-haired and it may be fifty years on, but he’s still a BEATLE!

They were doing “Photograph.” It sounded every bit as good as the record.

And upstairs I was reminded of the power of music, why it keeps drawing me back, like “Godfather III,” why you read this godforsaken newsletter. I heard Sam Smith’s debut album. Ten tracks, only one longer than four minutes, four not even breaking three, it’s everything America is not.

You know America. A desperate land where it’s everybody for himself, where the pop artists tell us how much better and more fabulous than us they are and we’re peppered with inane ditties imploring us to get up our gumption and do…what?

The human condition is on life support here. We live in a land where money is king and most people don’t have it. And when you’re in these straits, the only thing that soothes the soul is music.

You remember music, right?

Stuff like “Tumbleweed Connection,” which had no hits but sounds every bit as good today as it did in 1971. And today, just like back then, the best music still comes from England. Where there never was an American Dream and it’s less about getting ahead and more about evidencing who you truly are.

In England they follow the pop charts the way we follow the antics of Mark Zuckerberg and Jack Dorsey. Everybody knows the hit acts, and everybody’s got an opinion. And they’re all clueless as to what’s going on over here, across the pond.

They think it’s democratic, kind of like Radio 1, wherein the best of the best is all spun in one place.

But the truth is Top Forty isn’t broad at all. And has recently expanded beyond its urban boundaries, but is still looking for instant, not Sam Smith.

But the people?

Sam Smith is exactly what we’re looking for.

He looks like us! Everybody singing in America is beautiful, whether by birth or plastic surgery.

Whereas music was never about the image, but the sound, it’s what goes in your ears that counts.

Imagine if Susan Boyle was three-dimensional, that she knew how to write as well as sing.

Now you’re getting the idea of Sam Smith.

Oh, he’s had a bit of success. With Disclosure and Naughty Boy.

But nobody but a hipster knows this in America.

But hipsters are gonna spread the word on Sam Smith’s album “In The Lonely Hour,” because the peaks are so damn high!

There’s no “Rolling In The Deep,” but the album has even more soul than “21.”

Start with “Leave Your Lover.”

Where Sam breathlessly implores his love to leave him for…me. If you haven’t felt this emotion, you’ve lost your genitalia. This is music! Evidencing the human condition, the pain.

You can do nothing but stare at the speakers. You want to jump in, bond with this joyous noise, you want to leave your life, leave it for Sam Smith.

And then there’s “Stay With Me.” Which builds to a chorus so powerful that if Sam Smith appeared on Sunday night’s Grammy show he’d become a star overnight. Because we all want that gospel feeling, we wall want to believe, in the power of the individual, of the voice.

So, the album is not coming out for months.

They’re gonna dribble out some tracks.

But I’m telling you now, Sam Smith is America’s 2014 breakout star. He’s the one everybody’s gonna be talking about. Because he’s bringing us back to where we once belonged, and have been longing to return to seemingly forever.

Rebirth is inevitable. It’s begun in the U.K. Eventually it will spread to the U.S. Because some people just can’t play the bankrupt formula game.

Thank god.

“Stay With Me”

This is live from the Mercury Lounge. It doesn’t quite have the power of the recorded track, but you can see and hear the magic. You know when someone has the talent. Put this chorus in a TV show, a hit movie and everybody will know it.

“Leave Your Lover”

This is another audience video. Once again, it contains the essence, but the recorded track has an additional layer of magic. You’re gonna want to be in attendance the next time he sings this stuff live.

“Why Bitcoin Matters”

I like smart people. I like to learn something.

Which is why I don’t watch TV singing competitions, where no one goes on to glory and it’s only about the ratings and I’m more interested in seeing “Shark Tank.”

That’s today’s world. Used to be everybody wanted to be a musician and have a hit record, today everybody wants to be an entrepreneur and go on “Shark Tank” and get an investment.

But they’re oftentimes so uninformed, they can’t possibly be successful. But unlike in music, the sharks tell the truth.

Kinda like the balloon guy last Friday night. A shark asked…”How can I make money on this?”

That’s what people don’t understand about music. I only want to sign it if I can make money. If I can’t, I’m not interested. I don’t care how good a salesman you are, how long you’ve “practiced.”

That was one of the great things said last week. That the balloon man was a great SALESMAN, but he hadn’t proven he was a great MANAGER! That if he wanted to grow his business he had to hire other salesmen.

And that his franchising idea was bogus.

I’ve been to a million music conferences, no one ever tells the wannabe the truth, because it might hurt their feelings.

But smart people never take their eye from the prize, they know it’s not about feelings, but winning.

Kinda like my friend Shak. You don’t know his name, that’s not why he’s in the game. I got to know him because he was one of the original investors in Spotify, we hadn’t seen each other in a while and a few months ago we got together and Shak told me he’d started a publication, Coindesk.

Huh?

Not another Bitcoin story! I’d already had it with the Winklevosses, and this was months before the hype became deafening.

And Shak was taken aback. Because he didn’t think he’d have to convince me. That I understood.

But I didn’t.

But rather than change the subject, I had Shak explain.

And I got it.

But no one in the media gets it. They’re too busy speaking of the seesawing value.

But today on the “New York Times” site Marc Andreesen lays out an explanation that will have your eyes bugging out. Not only does he answer all your questions, he illustrates opportunities. Not only is a digital currency coming, he believes it’s too late to stop the Bitcoin train. Kind of like Spotify has such a big lead that despite its imperfections…it probably can’t be beaten.

But this is why tech has become so exciting.

But it wasn’t only today’s article, at the beginning of the month Andreesen went on record in the “Wall Street Journal” that there is no tech bubble:

“Andreessen: Bubble Believers ‘Don’t Know What They’re Talking About'”

And granted, Andreesen’s a VC. He’s got $50 million invested in Bitcoin ventures.

But this willingness to go on the record is akin to Michael Rapino and Lucian Grainge writing essays explaining why they’re not only bullish on touring and recording but telling us where it’s all gonna go.

But that’s not the music business. Where acts still won’t go to all-in ticketing and would rather have Ticketmaster take the heat for charges and drive the public to scalpers rather than charge appropriately or employ paperless ticketing. Hell, I got e-mail today from someone bitching that there was a $20 service charge on top of a $27 ticket to see the Head and the Heart at the Wiltern. He’s busy blaming Ticketmaster. But if you think a six piece band can tour for $27 a ticket, you know nothing about economics. It’s all a scam/sham, to get you to hate Ticketmaster and love the band. That extra $20…it’s promoter profit! All the rest of the cash is going to the band!

But nobody in the music business wants to either speak the truth or live in the present.

They’re talking about gamification in the office environment and we don’t even have gamification in the concert world!

Don’t know what I’m talking about?

Then read Farhad Manjoo’s article:

“High Definition: The ‘Gamification’ of the Office”

Don’t know Manjoo?

He’s a star. He left Slate for the WSJ and last week jumped to the NYT.

And he’s much more of a big deal than anybody making music. Because he wrote every day, at least at the WSJ. And he’s analyzing the issues.

I ask you, does your kid want to be on “Shark Tank” or “The Voice”?

Why does some food taste better the next day?

Pizza, Chinese, the sandwich I just ate… Days later, after marinating in their own juices, what might have been “eh” the first time around is positively delicious later.

My mother was not a good cook. I’m not saying she had no admirable features. She was a culture vulture, still is, where do you think I got it? She was a fan of Jolly Green Giant and Birdseye, you remember, those boil-in bags from the sixties, with the butter and the “freshness” that was one of the breakthroughs, like Pop-Tarts and Tang? Maybe not. We live in a health era right now, wherein if it’s been pulled from the ground far away and flash frozen, we don’t want it.

So, because she was so busy reading and watching, we frequently went out. Furthermore, my father was a gourmand. He was vastly overweight until he became ill and got what he referenced as a “gastric resection” which I didn’t realize was a gastric bypass, i.e. weight loss surgery, until last year when my sister told me. Ah, the secrets that still emanate from the dead. Did you read that story in today’s “New York Times”?

Secret Histories
In an Age of Lessening Privacy, Some Family Secrets Persist

So every Sunday night we’d go out for dinner. Sometimes fancy, sometimes holes in the wall, and that’s where I got my sense of adventure. Where we ate was just as important as what we saw. Lifestyle was everything to my dad.

Which is how Felice and I found ourselves downtown yesterday, eating at the Nickel Diner.

That was not our first destination. But we pulled up to the Eastside Market Italian Deli and found out it was already closed.

But employing the genius map app we found destination number two, because if you can understand downtown L.A. you live there, and nobody does other than the unbelievably poor and the unbelievably rich.

We found these places via Triple-D, otherwise known as Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. And Guy Fieri’s restaurant may have been panned by the “New York Times” but he’s a personal hero, because I too know the satisfaction of biting into something that’s a ten on its own level. Yes, the food might not work at Per Se, but in the greasy spoon, the ultimate fry, the ultimate chocolate chip cookie, that’s what I live for.

The Italian delicacies at the Eastside Market had pictures to die for. They looked like the grinders I grew up with in Bridgeport, a cornucopia of Italian delicacies.

As for the Nickel Diner… It was all about the bacon doughnut, the dessert.

But what to eat first?

I had a steak sandwich, with roasted peppers, pickled onions, mozzarella and dijon sauce… The problem with mainstream food is it’s underseasoned. But go to the one of a kind place and they know how to spice it up. The steak sandwich was gooey and tasty, but the steak was not first rate, not tough, but not tender, unlike the dry aged wagyu ribeye I had at Flame in Vail where the bread was substandard but the steak was savory.

But really, it’s all about the desserts at the Nickel. But by time we were ready the bacon doughnuts were gone!

So we settled for the chocolate potato chip cake. With peanut butter. And frosting. Salty and crunchy. That’s the new thing, have you had salted caramel ice cream yet?

But overall, I would not give the Nickel Diner a thumbs-up.

No, that’s wrong, I’d definitely give it a thumbs-up, I just wouldn’t say it requires a special trip.

Until today. When I just removed the remnants of my steak sandwich from the fridge.

I have a hard time stopping. I eat what you serve. There are starving children in Europe, you know that right? My parents actually said that. And if you put something on your plate and didn’t eat it you’d hear about it for weeks thereafter, that’s the kind of guy my dad was, you obeyed the rules. I still do. Too often to my detriment.

But Felice’s family was different. She can stop. And she did. So she was left with half a burger and I was left with…half a steak sandwich that I did not eat, realizing I could no longer taste it, why continue?

But as I’m watching the game right now, feeling guilty, because after all the NFL is just modern gladiators, much more dangerous than that TV show with that appellation, Felice entered the bedroom with a smile on her face and started to testify how good her half of hamburger was today.

Which reminded me… My steak sandwich!

Some people would heat it up. But somehow that ruins the effect. If you’re not willing to endure the pasty, crunchy, past its peak crust of day old pizza, you’re not a connoisseur. All stuck together it’s something different. Yes, I don’t want to separate out the flavors, I want them all together. That’s what a day or two in the fridge will do. Sure, the bread is soggy, but now it’s infused with flavors absent previously.

And I take one bite… DELICIOUS! BETTER THAN IT WAS ORIGINALLY!

And I’m wondering what’s happening scientifically, but I’ll leave that to Nathan Myhrvold. All I know is I’m sitting at the kitchen table reminiscing about pizza in college, Chinese food in Vail, and how when I dig into the carton and extract the remnants of what once was I’m exquisitely happy.

Nickel Diner

Eastside Market Italian Deli

Nickel Diner pics

Eastside Market Italian Deli pics

P.S. What I hate about modern media is content providers’ adherence to old business models, as in I was choosing a destination but all Triple-D episodes had been scrubbed from YouTube, so I’d be forced to sit in front of the Food Channel night after night to be edified. Why not make everything available and monetize it?