They were the largest pumpkins I ever saw.

Actually, that’s my favorite joke. A guy drives all day through Texas and he’s starving. So he goes into this giant restaurant, where they sit him at a long table and sell him a huge steak and a beer in a glass so tall it’s hard to tip. And having finished, he asks the waiter where the restroom is. “Up the stairs on the right.” But the patron makes a mistake and takes the door on the left. Thirty seconds later, a guy comes out and says “There’s a maniac thrashing around in the swimming pool yelling DON’T FLUSH IT, DON’T FLUSH IT!”

Yes, everything’s big in Texas.

Especially the supermarket.

Now I thought I knew upscale markets. I shop regularly at Whole Foods, where the prepared fodder looks phenomenal but lacks taste, and Gelson’s is superb, although not located near where I live. And the rap on Gelson’s is the produce, that’s the selling point, that’s what everybody talks about.

But Gelson’s is positively minor league compared to Central Market.

It’s an upscale Costco. If Costco had a zillion SKUs.

Oh, it’s got that warehouse feel. With the high roofs of corrugated steel. And at the entrance we were confronted with pumpkins so large, I had to peer at the sign. They said they were from Long Island, but I’ve never seen anything close to this size on the east coast.

And inside, there were more peppers than I’d seen at any market.

I suddenly started to realize this was something different.

Oh, we think everything’s best on the coast. That in between it’s flyover country, where the people are backward and underprivileged. Well, let me tell you, the Internet works everywhere, and so does cable TV. But I really didn’t expect Fort Worth, Texas to have a better supermarket!

First, there’s the innovation!

You know how you buy trail mix at Whole Foods and they’ve got that PLU code and you’ve got to find a pen so you can write it down so they can weigh it and charge you at the checkout stand? Well, here you just punch in the code yourself, you weigh your trail mix right where you bag it, vegetables too, and the machine prints out a receipt, you know, the sticky kind, that affixes to the plastic. Hell, you even know how much you’ve purchased, in case it’s too much or too little!

But the sheer variety! They had taps for olive oil and vinegar. There were more types of trail mix than Gelson’s and Whole Foods combined.

And they had the sushi, pizza and other ready-made products you could sample and take home.

And there were giant trays of hummus, you just scooped out as much as you needed, there were multiple flavors. And they had seemingly miles of meat and seafood. It was a veritable cornucopia of foodstuffs.

I’m making a rule. Whenever I go to a new place, I’m giving up on the tourist sites, I’m going directly to the supermarket, that’s where all the innovation takes place.

Central Market pic.twitter.com/s5CUizXPYY

— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) September 22, 2013

Pumpkins-1 pic.twitter.com/hU5rcpsI1E
— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) September 22, 2013

Pumpkins-2 pic.twitter.com/qp9D0KW99T

— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) September 22, 2013

Pumpkins-3 pic.twitter.com/gt6CgmIDMI
— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) September 22, 2013

Central Market

By time word got to America, there were already two Graham Parker albums. The debut, “Howlin’ Wind” and the follow-up, “Heat Treatment.”

The cognoscenti will say “Howlin’ Wind” was the best. That it had the best songs. “White Honey,” “Nothin’s Gonna Pull Us Apart,” “Soul Shoes,” “Lady Doctor” and “Don’t Ask Me Questions.” And I challenge almost anybody to name a track from “Heat Treatment,” but it was always my favorite, still is, despite having inferior material. Why? MUTT LANGE!

At this point we had no idea who he was. There was some press about City Boy, but it would be almost half a decade before “Back In Black” conquered the airwaves and the under twenty five community’s collective heart, at this point he was just the guy with the funny moniker on the back of albums, “Robert John ‘Mutt’ Lange.”

And after “Heat Treatment,” Parker returned to Nick Lowe and recorded the half-baked, stillborn, “Stick To Me,” blamed it all on his label and then signed with Arista and despite Clive Davis’s best efforts, never had a hit. The tsunami of press eventually evaporated. Labels were switched, yet Parker not only didn’t live up to his promise, he faded away and certainly didn’t radiate.

But if you listen to “Heat Treatment” today it sounds as fresh as it did back in ’76.

Oh, the opening cut sounds like you’ve just opened the door to a nightclub where a band of well-oiled musicians is already deep into their third set of the night, that’s how tight they are. Oh, “Heat Treatment” is not a hit song, but it’s energetic and powerful and gets you tapping your toe and nodding your head. And at this late date, listen intently and you’ll see it’s the horns and the mix, the little flourishes that come up and grab you.

And “That’s What They All Say” has got this same togetherness, this same tightness, but it’s even a worse song than “Heat Treatment.” But it sounds so good!

But the first side truly starts to resonate with “Hotel Chambermaid.” Positively English, it’s a mini-movie with a jaunty production that will not be denied. You find yourself singing along with the chorus.

And then comes “Pourin’ It All Out,” this is where the album truly begins to swing. Oh, Brinsley Schwarz gets all the credit, and he’s a good guitar player, but isn’t it really about the producer, who gets the band to lock into this groove and maintain it? This is when you realize “Heat Treatment” is no run-of-the-mill LP, this is when you start to believe the reviews were right. Really, listen to the verses, especially the second, when the guitar starts to sing and the organ subtly plays…but still, it’s all about the FEEL!

And “Back Door Love” sounds like it’s transported straight from the fifties. And it too swings, despite being second-rate material.

And then comes the killer, the white reggae triumph, “Something You’re Goin’ Through.” Oh, Bob Marley was finally breaking through, the Police were on the horizon, every white band, especially from the U.K., was toying with the Jamaican sound, but no one does it better at this point than Graham Parker. The band is so tight, the production is so seamless, that you’re enraptured.

And then comes the piece-de-resistance, the album closer, “Fool’s Gold.” Imagine if Def Leppard were a pub rock act instead of a light metal band, that’s what the track sounds like, it’s just that powerful. Oh, it starts slow and relatively quiet and then builds, builds, builds! By the end of the track, you’re marching in place, singing along, KEEP SEARCHIN’!

And absolutely nothing happened. Maybe because the band itself was not as good as the record. Oh, the Rumour could play and Parker could sing, but “Heat Treatment” was a monolithic production, it’d be like asking Tom Cruise to act out “Mission Impossible” at the Roxy.

But if you had this album at home you were instantly a Graham Parker fan. Because it was such a delicious listening experience. Never to be equaled. Oh, Lange did his best to salvage the band’s live album, but at this point no one knew who he was, and he was not given credit for what he added to the act as everybody continued to lionize Nick Lowe and focused on the failings of Mercury.

And isn’t it funny all these years later, even Judd Apatow couldn’t resurrect Parker’s career, Nick Lowe plays clubs to the few who remember and Mutt Lange is nowhere in sight, hiding behind closed doors as he basks in the financial security of the proceeds from being the best record producer of the modern rock era.

P.S. Oh, “Fool’s Gold” is so heavy that when it breaks down and gets subtle a bit after 1:50, it’s like the most desirable woman in the world just winked at you, she’s been dancing on the stage for everybody, but now she’s singled you out, and then at 2:30 it becomes positively sexual, you can feel the build-up, and like the best rock and roll it just keeps amping up and up, it never releases, whew!

Rhinofy-Heat Treatment

It just went to number one.

Yes, Katy Perry boxed on the VMAs. Miley Cyrus showed everything but her box. But the woman with the most infectious track, who neither looks like a model nor acts like one, who has not taken off her clothes, who has not worked with the producers du jour, has trumped them both.

Credit the Internet. Now a sixteen year old in New Zealand can become a worldwide smash just as easily as a denizen of L.A. The action online motivated Jason Flom to fly down and sign her. But it was the song, the record, and not manipulation. There’s been none.

This is even more impressive than Alanis Morissette’s debut in the nineties. She was helped by a ton of video airplay. Ditto with Nirvana. Morissette was overwhelmed by her success and never equaled it. Kurt Cobain offed himself as a result. It’s not only a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll, it’s hard to stay there, it’s even hard to stay alive, just ask Bon Scott.

Will Lorde be able to follow it up?

That’s to be seen. The video era is ripe with acts who were one and done, whether it be the “Macarena” boys or Jimmy Ray or… On the Internet, novelty disappears, can you say PSY? But if for some reason you’ve got some talent, and you’re willing to continue to play, we’re all ears.

Yes, the Internet is the radio of the twenty first century. And instead of programmers, it’s surfers who are in control. We are the ones who make the hits. Almost always, radio is last. Oh, radio’s a rocket fuel that can propel that which is already successful into the stratosphere, but instead of breaking records, it gets on board.

Furthermore, the Lorde track has all the elements all the wannabes pooh-pooh.. It’s instantly catchy, with hooks, and she can sing. If you’re boring us, we’re never ever gonna get to the chorus, we’re too busy looking for new gems online.

Also, “Royals” doesn’t sound like anything else. That’s the recipe for instant success, doing it different and well. We can’t even name the winners of the TV singing competitions, never mind the fact that they don’t have hits. Meanwhile, something from left field surfaces, because everybody gets to play today, there are no barriers to entry.

And the end result is clutter. Which means if you’re not good enough, your music will be lost, never heard, you can put it up on iTunes and it won’t sell. But if you’re truly great…we’ve got people surfing the Internet 24/7 looking for you, masses eager to spread the word, you can go from nowhere to somewhere overnight.

So yes, lament the manufactured crap.

But know that now is truly your time. If you’re new and different, innovative and catchy.

Stay at home and hone your chops as opposed to tweeting and facebooking. Lorde herself didn’t sell the track, the music did!

Note: Lorde’s “Royals” is number one on the iTunes singles chart. It’s number two on Spotify. It’s number 10 on the Top Forty Mediabase chart. That’s radio, one step behind! More than ever, it’s about the moment, what’s happening now. And you find that out online.

Could single-handedly kill hip-hop.

You know, the calcified art form that’s all imitation and no innovation.

The very first thing that crosses your mind as you listen to Avicii’s “True” is…how did he come up with this stuff?

We live in a world where white kids in Canada employ gang signs. Everybody’s a follower and no one’s testing limits and pointing the way. Until Avicii takes the stage at Ultra and leaves the audience with its mouth agape, like “Springtime For Hitler” in “The Producers.”

Dan Tyminski has been hiding in plain sight ever since “O Brother.” His “Man Of Constant Sorrow” was so satisfying, one of not only the best tracks of the year, but the most memorable. But did anybody capitalize on his talent? Did a label push him? Of course not, they just want ten year olds working with alta-kachers, believing that’s the only way to make the cash register ring.

But the real way to make money rain down is to do something completely different and wholly satisfying, something that makes you feel good just to listen to it. Like Avicii’s work with Tyminski, “Hey Brother.”

Oh, listen to that acoustic guitar, an instrument banished from Top Forty radio, despite populating seemingly everybody’s closet.

And then comes Dan’s voice. So human. Not thin, sans melisma it takes you right back to the hollers of Appalachia. And he seems to be singing for the joy of it, not to impress you.

And then the bass starts to pump. It’s like listening to the Band, if Levon Helm were still alive and they cut new music.

Oh, eventually the electronics come in, but the chorus is not dominated by them, you hear the oo’s and you just want to sing along. As your head starts to nod and your body jumps with the following sounds. Yes, it’s EDM, for people who’ve been saying it’s mindless drivel. Because it’s not! Yup, while you were home deploring the new sound, repeating yourself, poorly, Avicii was pushing the envelope.

And when the whole track breaks down and gets quiet again just after 2:20 it’s so intimate, it’s the essence of music.

This is the album track for those who lament the passage of such. Not filler, not made for the radio, it’s made just for you, listening at home.

And the follow-up, “Addicted To You,” is even better!

You know the Top Forty, everybody’s oversinging, believing they can close you by overwhelming you. Not that the vocal here is subtle, but it is savory and sensual. It sounds like a combination of Shirley Bassey, Adele and electronica. “Addicted To You” just makes you feel warm and alive, and isn’t that what music’s supposed to do, reflect the human condition?

Listen to that acoustic picking at the beginning of “Addicted To You,” it sounds just like the first American Elton John album. You remember “First Episode At Hienton” and “Sixty Years On,” right? Oh, the hits made Elton famous, but it was these album cuts that gave him a career, and somehow Avicii has extracted this same magic, albeit from a new, slightly different mine.

I’m not gonna say the rest of the album reaches these stratospheric peaks, other than the opening cut and already worldwide hit “Wake Me Up.” It seems like Avicii was just a bit gun-shy, afraid of going all in, there’s stuff that’s more EDM than traditional song, then again, everything resonates.

In other words, if you go to the electronic show to get high and hang with your buds, get ready for a whole new world, where you need to get right up front and sing along while you dance. Because there’s nothing more fulfilling, nothing more exciting than becoming one with the music as it pours out of the speakers and you lift your head to the sky and sing along.

Forget all the reviews. Most in the “B” territory. They miss the point.

There’s no scale for excellence. There’s no framework to judge. When someone is inventing something new, stretching both themselves and the audience, the usual suspects are unprepared.

But the listener is always ready.

Play this alone, at home. You’ll have a party in your head.

Play it with your buddies and you’ll be so glad you’re a music fan, knowing that no other art form equals the sensation you get when you experience it.

Once upon a time music blew up because it was all about the bleeding edge. We were all caught up in the slipstream. We were all agog. Long before it became about how you looked and making a mini-movie to become rich and famous. You don’t need to know what Avicii looks like to get “True.” As for Dan Tyminski… You won’t see him in GQ, but this is the kind of guy girls fall in love with…you know, he who’s got something on the inside as opposed to the nitwits who are all flash and no substance.

LISTEN!

P.S. Rock’s already dead.

Avicii True – Spotify