Test limits. They do the unexpected. They make our jaws drop.

Have you seen “Book Of Mormon”? There’s a tribal chief with a name so OUT THERE, so OFFENSIVE, so SWEAR WORD, that I cannot use it in this e-mail, or you won’t get it.

Yup, I love to use the F-word. But I can’t. Because too many of you work for uptight corporations with spam filters that won’t let that word through. Yup, you think you’re so hip, that you’re not like your parents, that you’re open-minded and accepting. But the truth is so many are still on the treadmill of life, working for the man, and we depend upon artists to show us the light, to question convention, to stretch our minds, to show us the POSSIBILITIES!

In other words, there’s a market for imitation, but what we’re truly interested in, what truly lasts, is ORIGINALITY!

Where is it in music, come on, all you tattooed and pierced knee-jerkers, point out all those acts doing the unexpected, wowing us.

No, we’ve got a veritable plethora of me-toos.

And for those who are different, they’re too often not good. The trick is to be different and mainstream, whether it be the Beatles, with “Sgt. Pepper,” or the “South Park” boys, Trey Parker and Matt Stone, with “Book Of Mormon.”

A Broadway play? It doesn’t SCALE!

That’s the first thing a wannabe rock star tells you, he’s going for world domination, he’s the next Madonna. Well I hate to tell you, but the reason you know Madonna’s name is because there’s only one. Forget the lost, dieted-down-to-nothing woman parading on stages today, once upon a time Madonna was a head-twisting paragon of the new, whose flock was developed by not only excellent music, but a belt that said “Boy Toy” and a song about being a virgin. If you don’t think that shook up the establishment, you never saw the video for “Like A Prayer.” This wasn’t manufactured controversy, it was the real thing!

And where do we see it today?

Maybe with Amy Winehouse. She tragically died, too many of the greats just weren’t made for this world, but her music didn’t sound quite like anything that came before, never mind since. Sure, she had influences, but she took them and concocted something new.

Bruno Mars?

Where’s the originality?

And I’m saying that because he’s talented, he’s vaunted, he’s one of the good ones!

As for rock acts, it seems they’re all stuck in the seventies or eighties, whether they be metal acts imitating Zeppelin and Metallica, or rock bands in jeans and hats who seem to be nothing but Ronnie Van Zant’s children.

And rock stars are always resisted at first. I didn’t watch “South Park,” it was a cartoon! A herky-jerky concoction with high-pitched voices. But word of mouth became deafening, over years! And they never backed down, they’d skewer someone, never the safe target, and never apologize.

And they did a successful movie.

So did they repeat the formula?

NO!

They moved on, to Broadway.

Want to be inspired? Want to see the real deal? Want to see what it’s all about?

Go see “Book Of Mormon.”

Sitting in the audience for that play is like watching “Springtime For Hitler” in “The Producers.” You’re shocked, you just sit there with your mouth agape.

It’s a long hard path to stardom. But it’s on the road not taken. And the reason we’ve got such a mediocre music scene is because nobody wants to do something different, they just want to go on a TV show or imitate someone who’s already made it, thinking if they do a good job singing someone else’s hit on YouTube, they’re entitled to worldwide notoriety.

NO!

Write your own damn song. Make it completely different.

There was no Talking Heads before the band emerged. And there’s been none since.

And in the classic rock era, the greats all sounded different.

And that’s why it was classic. It was a hotbed of innovation. Everybody inspired each other to innovate.

Today artists just inspire each other to sell out. Have a clothing line. A perfume with their name on it.

And if you don’t think I’m speaking the truth, you can’t handle the truth!

Peace out.

Did you catch the Beatles reference? It was intentional! Hang on and I’ll get to it, I’ll make the circle complete.

1. Everybody parks their expensive cars on the street. Maseratis, Ferraris, Bentleys…all of their paint jobs fading in the acid rain. In L.A. the most important thing is what kind of car you drive, people never leave them outside and are regulars at the car wash. It would blow their mind to see these vehicles deteriorating in the elements. Then again, its only a CAR!

2. So we’re riding the tube, and Lisa elbows me, drawing my attention to the Pearly King & Queen.

Pearl King and Queen

Now you know the Traffic song… Is there a connection?

3. Fancy Dress. No, not tuxedos and gowns, but funny outfits, like the ones we saw the college age students wearing, they were playing street Monopoly, don’t ask me to explain, I didn’t understand!

4. I had duck confit for lunch. There was an outdoor market near Sloane Square and the choices represented nationalities from Spain to Peru. The electric burners went on the fritz, but I eventually got my sandwich. Was it the best ever? No, don’t think so, but I’ve never gotten duck from a roadside stand before.

5. Which brings us to the British Library… We went there to see an exhibit on Propaganda, which “Time Out” said was one of the Top Ten things to do in London this week.

Only we didn’t get in…

To the exhibit that is, we made it into the library.

And as a result, I’m a bit down right now. Because I was counting on it. No matter how old you grow, disappointment always sucks.

So the bottom line is we could have gotten in, if we’d bought tickets when we arrived, but on my journey to the loo I got waylaid by the gems of the British Library, its greatest hits, I implored Lisa to go there first.

And what I saw…

Leonardo’s notebooks. Wherein he wrote in mirror script, with his left hand, from right to left.

But even more impressive was Jane Austen’s writing desk. And Mozart’s marriage contract.

Yes, they had the cases broken down by type, and there was a whole one for music. Handel’s original “Messiah.” And…

The Beatles.

It was positively jaw-dropping. They had John Lennon’s original lyrics for “A Hard Day’s Night,” written on the back of Julian’s first birthday card. If it weren’t a museum, I would have thought it was a set-up.

And there was more. McCartney’s “Michelle” lyrics. Unused Harrison lyrics. And I lived through it all, but it was half a century ago, it’s truly history now.

P.S. I saw the Magna Carta and a Gutenberg Bible.

P.P.S. I don’t know whether it’s because I’m getting older, but suddenly I can see these were real people. Although Michelangelo was famous, he was the first person to have his biography written while he was still alive, I’m sure a lot of the other people didn’t realize we’d still be talking about them hundreds of years later. Hell, those who were popular then aren’t necessarily popular now. Ben Jonson was bigger than Shakespeare, but it’s the latter everybody knows today (and both their works were in this exhibit at the British Library.)

P.P.P.S. Being closed out of the Propaganda exhibit, Lisa took me next door to the St. Pancras Hotel, behind which was Eurostar station. From London to Paris…sounds like a Kraftwerk song!

P.P.P.P.S. Frustrated, with time on our hands, we went to the Wellcome Collection. That’s an American, Henry Wellcome, he brought pharmaceuticals in pill form to the U.K., his foundation is the second biggest in the world, just behind Bill Gates’s, according to the guy at the information desk. But not everybody who’s rich collects stuff worth seeing. Most of it was medical, but there was a chastity belt and anti-masturbation rings and glass eyeballs and other artifacts that will haunt me in the middle of the night.

P.P.P.P.P.S. The sun came out! Very briefly. I grew up in New England, I know from gray, but I’m not sure I could handle it anymore, not after living in L.A.

P.P.P.P.P.P.S. We started off at the farmer’s market. Remember when England had a reputation for bad food? From vegetables to bread, the attractions were mouth-watering. A bread that looked like it’d been kicked around like a ball evidenced the crust my father endeared me to. Lisa bought a fish with orange spots for dinner tomorrow night.  Here’s pics!

Bread

Fish

We’re off to see Helen Mirren in “The Audience,” gotta go!

The Audience

Note: I love the Internet, here’s the backstory on Pearly Kings and Queens, who knew?

Pearly Kings and Queens

Second note: This is a bad pic, but the only one I could find online of the original lyrics of “A Hard Day’s Night.” It’s the fact that they’re written on the back of this children’s birthday card that makes them so great!

original lyrics of “A Hard Day’s Night”

Lisa’s on the phone with Corinne, so I’m gonna take this moment to check in with you.

1. I miss the 4G in the United States. Never mind the better data plan. I almost switched to my BlackBerry just for this trip, because iPhone e-mail is prohibitively expensive in the U.K. and Europe, especially if you get as much as I do. Anybody got any tips? Of course I turned off cellular data, but when I turn it on, when I can log in, which is rare, I eat up 3 MB every time, and it’s $25 per 100 MB, which means I definitely can’t leave it on all the time…

2. They were playing Damien Rice’s “Cannonball” on the way in. How come the U.S. always has generic Muzak in public spaces, but in the U.K. they can own their heritage?

3. The chips! I can’t even remember the flavor they served on the plane, it was a combination of cream and cheddar and vinegar and despite calling them crisps, the variety’s better than in the U.S.

4. Oh, back to the 3G. I don’t know how you people tolerate it on your iPhone 4 and 4s’s. Here comes the hate mail! You get used to high speed. And they just don’t have it over here.

5. The flight wasn’t long enough. Not long enough to read my book, catch up on the newspapers and sleep too. That’s what’s better about flying to Asia, the time! There was no wi-fi on the plane, but I don’t like to work in flight, I consider it a respite, me time.

6. I’m reading the VJ book. Positively riveting, because we lived through it, great to hear about it from the other side of the fence, even though I don’t trust everything everybody says, especially Martha Quinn, who says she got an “F” in high school but still got into Vassar and Colgate…

7. It’s cold here! I mean not rattle your teeth cold, but fifties. Spring has not sprung in the U.K.

8. I came through Dusseldorf. Bottom line, by doing this I only have to take two flights on the way back, I’m not gonna do twenty two hours and three. Couldn’t see much in Germany, but I wanted to stay, wanted to investigate it, I’ve only passed through on the train previously. I think it’s safe now. Although the in-flight magazine had me researching and I found out about this East German shot-putter who took so many steroids she decided to become a man… Man’s inhumanity to man, all in the name of…sports victories?

9. In customs in Dusseldorf they wanted to know what I was doing in Germany. I said flying to London! The guy was nonplussed.

10. Speaking of customs, they grilled me in Stansted, where I had to land. And I had to wait half an hour just to answer questions.

11. How come the cabs are so much bigger and cleaner in the U.K? You’re always worried about bodily fluids in the cabs in NYC, and you never even ride a cab in L.A.

12. The flight attendants on Air Berlin didn’t know how to use the gizmos, didn’t know how to turn the monitor off and lower the arm rest… A little more training is in order, but it was a good flight, despite taking off an hour late.

13. I feel inadequate not knowing the language. A woman was sitting across from me in the lounge in L.A., speaking English to her kids, and suddenly she burst into German to interact with an elderly gentleman nearby. Reminded me of how many languages Jackie O. spoke. She was my mother’s hero, for being a worldly culture vulture, before she became an Andy Warhol and jet-setting staple. We all need someone to look up to, we all need aspirations.

14. Everybody on the plane from Dusseldorf to London was reading! Physical books, but they also gave away newspapers for free. Furthermore, so many had an element of style, the hairdos, the clothing… American culture is different. We don’t embrace our outcasts, not until everybody else does and they become anointed. And if you’re different in the U.S., you’re doing it to be noticed, to become famous, whereas in the U.K. it’s just part of your personal style.

Lisa’s off, gotta go!

Which version do you want? The one wherein creepy old men have trouble playing their own material or the one wherein legendary rock stars remind their audience of what once was and never will be?

The vibe was amazing…

Remember when you used to go to the show and not only were you excited, but you could feel the buzz, it was palpable? Sure, many came in limos, but with security checks we were all in line together outside, reminding ourselves that the seventies were the heyday of our lives, and despite crumbling bodies, we once ruled and our music still does.

There were no young people in attendance. It’s too expensive to take your kids for a glimpse. Sure, there were a few people under drinking age, but mostly it was boomers, with lumpy bodies but eager faces. Orange County isn’t where you go to parade, but experience…

The World’s Greatest Rock & Roll Band.

Only they weren’t.

Give the Stones credit. They’re actually playing!

And that’s the problem… Mick’s giving it his all, he probably needs oxygen and a blood transfusion when it’s over, but Keith is waltzing along, hitting half the notes and frequently unable to play his own signature riffs.

Like “Gimmie Shelter”… How many times did I sit in the dark with my headphones on listening to that eerie sound? Keith just couldn’t get the riff right. As for “Satisfaction”…I’m not sure he’s listened to the record.

But then he’d surprise you and toss off a perfectly executed intro to “Paint It Black.”

So if this was any other band, there’d be a plethora of extra people, behind the curtain, doubling for the faces.

Speaking of which, Ronnie was much better than Keith, but he never fit into the band to begin with, he could never replace Mick Taylor. Who came out and positively blew us away with fluid notes on “Midnight Rambler.” He may look like crap, but he can still make his axe sing! Proving once again, that it all comes down to individuals, you can’t replace an artist, it’s never the same.

But I’m WAY ahead of myself.

The intro movie… Was on such a small screen as to be hard to see, famous people testifying as to the greatness of the Stones. This was superfluous, you can either stand on your own or you can’t. And curiously, during the show the video screen fit the entire stage, making it much more visible…it was not the best Stones stage of all time, you didn’t see it and have your jaw drop, like it did for U2’s 360, but it was beyond serviceable.

But that was what the band was…until the aforementioned “Gimmie Shelter.”

It’s weird, because as buzzed as the audience was before the show, during it they were relatively sedate, there were no peaks, until Lisa Fischer sang Merry Clayton’s part.

War, CHILDREN!

Lisa’s the star of “Twenty Feet From Stardom” and she’s the star of the first half of the Stones show too. She misses not a note, her voice is so powerful, she exudes the sex in rock and roll that Mick Jagger can’t, since he’s dieted down to nothing, you can almost see his bones. What a sentence that must be, being unable to eat so you can fulfill the image of your audience, which has aged itself.

Hell, Lisa was not svelte, but if you think sex is about appearances, you’ve never done it. It’s about a spirit inside. And Lisa evidenced hers.

And the next highlight was…JOHN MAYER!

Yes, he made it on soft rock ditties. Yes, he was overexposed. Yes, he said some stupid things. Yes, he dates every starlet on the cover of “People.” But now that his moment in the spotlight is gone, we can see his legend is deserved, he can truly wail, and he did, on “Champagne and Reefer.”

Don’t know that song?

Interestingly, the three non-hits were some of the biggest triumphs. “Doom and Gloom” was great, and “One More Shot” was almost as good. With our expectations low, with the Stones not needing to live up to the legend, they could stretch out and play.

And that’s where you’d want to see them, a place where they don’t replicate the hits, but improvise, groove, noodle and impart energy. Like a club.

But they’re too big for that.

And yes, as reported, Keith’s voice is better than ever, even though he looks like the crypt-keeper, but he kept pulling his mouth away from the mic, and it’s not like he’s got a phenomenal voice to begin with.

So they’re running through the hits. And some renditions are so pedestrian, you’d wince if you didn’t know them by heart and were somewhat thrilled to hear them live.

“It’s Only Rock ‘n Roll (But I Like It)” was…eh.

“Waiting On A Friend” verged on execrable.

“Emotional Rescue”…Mick did a good job, I’ve got no idea where the band was.

But then came the new tracks and “Midnight Rambler.” Took a while to find the groove, but then the two Micks were off and running, the interplay was fantastic, Jagger running around the ramp and Taylor whipping off fine notes that had the weight of whipped cream but the substance of steak. This was what once was. Sure, Jagger no longer whips his scarf, the lights don’t jump in time, but it all works and you’re happy to be there.

And then comes “Sympathy For The Devil.”

Well, not exactly…

“Miss You” misses.

“Start Me Up” is pretty good, one just wishes it was more than a trifle.

“Tumbling Dice” verges on bad.

Everybody throws his hands in the air for “Brown Sugar,” but thinking back to the dorm room ritual, this was a pale imitation of then original experience.

And then…

It’s unmistakable, because it’s on tape.

The intro to “Sympathy For The Devil.”

And Mick comes prancing out in a coat of feathers and he’s shimmying and Charlie’s hitting the skins and Chuck Leavell is tickling the ivories and you start to tingle and you tell yourself…THIS IS IT!

Yup, classic Stones show. Just when you’re about to write them off, they deliver completely and you’re reminded of not only who they once were, but who you were too.

Jagger’s spitting the lyrics. The whole band is locked into the groove. And it’s not nostalgia, it’s got the power of today.

I was ’round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate

This is rock and roll! Yes, Jagger’s so old he might really have been there, but once upon a time rock was about attitude, not a pose, but a real standing outside the mainstream with your middle finger displayed. And despite this dash for cash, suddenly Jagger is once again that person.

Killed the Czar and his ministers
Anastasia screamed in vain

DANGER!

That’s what the Stones once represented. And now they’re locked on. They’ve transcended the audience. They’re in their own bubble and we’re privileged to be able to observe. And the song goes on, the riffs are torn off, the backup singers contribute, and you’re smiling like you’ve just had your first orgasm, or maybe a return visit to the person who took your virginity, it was just that special.

And the closer, “Satisfaction,” was not.

Slightly better was the previous number, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.”

Not quite as good as “Sympathy For The Devil” was “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”

Yes, they had USC’s choir, yes the French horn played. But what made the song was not the intro or the famous outro, but Jagger’s performance of the lyrics.

Suddenly, he stopped having to prove himself and just sang, and it was more than enough, it was transcendent. This is everything it used to be, an album cut more famous than the hits on AM, something we hear and get transported by.

So there you have it. A few momentary gems amongst a sea of…if not exactly mediocrity, workmanlike performance.

I can see why Jagger wanted to go solo. Keith is trouble. It’d be better to find someone who can play!

But Keith wrote so many of the riffs. And when he occasionally locks on, you swoon!

But it’s occasionally. He’s busy mugging, if only someone else played his part and he performed accents.

And the Stones are loyal, Bobby Keys was there looking not quite as bad as Mick Taylor, and he blew, but you were not blown away.

And yes, Darryl Jones has more fluidity than Bill Wyman, but Bill was basic, just like Charlie, and that was part of the Stones’ magic, like all great recipes, add too much and you kill it.

And Ronnie Wood’s legendary days were with Rod Stewart…who’s making the mistake of flogging a new album. We don’t care. Nobody does. Almost no one can sell an album, cut it for yourself, not your audience, then you’ve got a chance of word of mouth blowing up, we crave authenticity.

And this was the authentic Stones last night. Especially with Mick Taylor.

I know it’s all about money, but Taylor should have been on stage all night, he would have helped.

As for those in the audience…

They don’t go to shows on a regular basis. They’re all about lifestyle, the SUV with the boat and the island vacations, wherein the Stones’ music plays on the stereo.

They’ve all got smartphones, but unlike they’re kids they’re not early adopters, they’ve got one foot stuck in the past.

So they go to see the Stones to remind themselves of who they once were, how they once lived, when you could smoke dope and it wouldn’t be caught on camera, when you had to go to the show to be not only hip but in the loop, when music was the most powerful medium in the world.

It’s not now.

And soon, the dinosaurs who created the paradigm will no longer walk the earth.

So, if you want to catch a glimpse, this could really be the last time.

But if you want to keep your memories intact, you could miss it.