HARD Summer

It was like I was invisible.

You always wonder in L.A., am I safe? This is the land of Rodney King, this is where there are fewer police per square mile and enough ethnicities to shoot a whole slate of MTV reality shows.

Yes, MTV made a conscious decision to show the black, the brown and the yellow, not only the white.

And they were all there last night.

I’d be worried if I had girls. Used to be the worst thing they’d do is roll up their skirts, put them way above the knee. But last night I saw barely-grown women dressed in all kinds of concoctions. Well, let me make it a bit clearer, UNDERDRESSED in all kinds of concoctions. Do they leave the house like this? Probably not. They probably say they’re spending the night at Susie or Sal’s…wait a minute, Jennifer or Madison’s, and then they put on their mesh stockings and spangled bras, don their furry hats and take the subway to HARD and make old men like me have our eyes bug out.

Yup, I could have been Bugs Bunny. You know, when his peepers extend a few feet? There were girls who Playboy would love to photograph, with their tits pouring out. And even though there was no water in sight, that didn’t mean string bikini bottoms were taboo.

And each one of these girls, a rainbow of colors, had a smile on her face, was dancing, was having an incredible time. You see going to the electronic music festival is a tribal rite, missing it would be akin to saying no to Woodstock. But a Woodstock with food trucks and plenty of porta-potties.

But it’s even better. Because each and every one of these kids knows each other. You see it’s the social generation. You may think it’s only online that everybody’s connected, but it carries over into the real world too. You could live thirty miles from your best friend. You go to the show and you’re better connected than Mark Zuckerberg. And old people just don’t get it.

Old people believe a show is an overpriced exercise where some old fart band or young lip-syncher performs onstage and everybody stands there statically, enchanted by these rip-off artists earning their private jets. Traditional concerts are so much about us versus them, the performers getting rich on the backs of their audience, that they’re seamy, about to collapse under their own weight. Pop acts can’t sell out stadiums. But electronic ones do. Because everybody’s in it together.

Kind of like Skrillex.

You know it stuns me when someone remembers my name. Furthermore, remembers the last time they’ve seen me. But that’s what Sonny did. In between phone calls. You see he was making sure his friends got in. And he’s the act! Didn’t he have someone to do this for him?

It’s an entirely different generation. It’s not the old men who have their e-mail printed out, but kids doing it for themselves.

And there were a couple of stages and a couple of tents. Multiple acts to experience and move your body to. It was a celebration of life. And I’m worried if someone’s gonna rip off my money or my valuables from the shorts I wore with way too big pockets. But when I was finally acknowledged, it was by a twentysomething with his shirt off who came up to give me a high five. There was no scariness here, this was a love-in!

My only regret is I’m not their age. That I cannot participate. When I used to leave the house everybody was on guard, pecking order was visible, whereas today’s generation is inclusive, they’re all in it together. The economy might suck, but that doesn’t mean they can’t have a good time at the show.

1. Arenas

I’d say it’s a no-go for EDM. Because EDM is social, and an arena is not. But the honcho I spoke to backstage told me the reason Avicii failed in arenas was because he wasn’t big enough. He hadn’t paid his dues. In EDM, like the rock of yore, a couple of hit singles does not guarantee a vast sell-out. This is not Rihanna. Instead, you’ve got to get fans and grow them. And the way you do this is via word of mouth. All the press in the world isn’t gonna matter, has anybody seen them, were they good?

2. Brand Names

You’ve got to lose to make it. HARD was not always the moneymaker it is today. But now it’s an established name and people trust the curation, the infrastructure. EDM is not for rip-off artists, it’s for people who’ve paid their dues. In other words, if you think you can just book talent and everybody will come, you’re wrong.

3. The talent may not be primary, like at a traditional pop/rock show, but without headliners, you’re sunk. People will endure newbies coming up, but only if you guarantee someone they know and love will be spinning at the end of the night.

4. Production matters. Kids want to see the fancy lights, they expect them. This is part of the experience.

5. Turns out Electric Daisy is tarred with death, but not the rest of EDM. Two kids died ten days ago in Massachusetts, and there’s been no national outcry for the death of EDM. Hell, if you read the story, one kid was days away from rehab…he’d agreed to go. Maybe your life is your own personal responsibility . And as long as the promoter does everything in his power to eliminate drugs and underage drinking assuming he’s responsible is like assuming the pavement causes car accidents.

6. EDM is alternative. To all the made by assembly line, shoved down your throat crap plied by the old men of the media business. It’s no longer about having a relationship with the newspaper and the radio station, but having a relationship with the kids. In other words, a younger generation is rebuilding the music sphere. Thank god.

7. Think “event”, not “concert”. That’s the business promoters are in today. The talent deal is important, but that’s not the end of your responsibility. You’re creating an environment, for people to spend hours in and have a good time. The days of mistreating the customer just so he can get a glimpse of a momentary star are done.

8. There were roving sellers of drinks. You never had to go far for a porta-potty. There was gourmet food as well as pizza and garlic fries. You get a choice. And isn’t it interesting that you can get better food at a temporary outdoor show than you can at the arena, than you can at the amphitheatre. It’s time to show the customer some respect.

9. When done right, EDM makes your body move. You can’t help but shake your leg, do a little twist, go back and forth. And as the lights swirl and the music pumps you get that feeling deep inside that you’re alive. People are not sheep. Automatons programmed to eat and sleep and color between the lines. Life is about inspiration, taking risks as well as testing limits. It’s about the possibilities, not just the drudgery. And when I went to HARD Summer last night, I felt all this.

This is what it’s all about.

You see prior to “Workingman’s Dead”, not only had almost no one east of San Francisco heard the band, they thought their music sounded like their moniker. Heavy and dark, somewhere between Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, whose eponymous debut would come out shortly thereafter. The previous albums were just for fans. And there weren’t many of those.

But the Dead started to make inroads in New York. At the Fillmore East. Where they ended up starting at midnight and playing until dawn. They could have no restrictions. It was a special event. Which I learned about from the back cover of the program. Yes, when you went to the Fillmore you got a program, can you imagine that today? No promoter would spend the money. Then again, no act would authorize it either! Greed put the Fillmore out of business, but seventies greed is nothing compared to twenty first century greed. And on the back cover of that program was a picture of a sold out audience, standing, and a caption that said “2600 Happy People During The Grateful Dead”. Maybe that’s not exactly right. But I remember it saying “Happy”, and I remember them standing, and I remember the thought of asking my parents to go to an all night show in New York City was completely taboo, because back then, after midnight, the train to Connecticut didn’t run.

But I wanted to go.

Which is maybe why I was primed when I heard “Uncle John’s Band” on WNEW.

Yes, I’d settled there. First it was WOR-FM, then WABC-FM, and then WNEW-FM, with Alison Steele and Zacherley and Scott Muni. Hell, I remembered Muni from AM! WABC! “#1 in the nation, the Scott Muni show!” He came before Cousin Brucie, talked just as fast, to hear his slowed down speech on FM made my jaw drop.

And I believe it was in my parents’ living room, on the big rig, that I first heard “Uncle John’s Band”. This was before FM was ubiquitous in cars. Hell, we had it, but reception was awful.

“Uncle John’s Band’ sounded like a Crosby, Stills & Nash cut.

And at this point in time, Crosby, Stills & Nash (and at this point Young), were the biggest band in the land.

We know now that the Dead could never perfect these harmonies live. Then again, neither could CSN&Y! But the music was so sweet, acoustic guitars ruled, and the a cappella breakdown sounded like a church choir, assuming your church was Haight Street and tie-dye and love beads and nudity and sex and…

I bought the album.

The cover had a sandpaper feel. Abandoned after the album became successful. But that took a long time. Most everybody didn’t sign on until the follow-up, “American Beauty”, which I purchased upon release but never thought was as good. I loved “Box Of Rain”, but it was no “Uncle John’s Band”. But I had to endure “Ripple” all through college, it drives me insane, to this day. “American Beauty” was a bit lighter, “Workingman’s Dead” was dark.

And speaking of dark, my second favorite cut on “Workingman’s Dead” is “New Speedway Boogie”, the first side closer, the Dead’s take on Altamont, which is just as good, if not better, than the Stones’ film about the fiasco, “Gimme Shelter”. With a hypnotic groove and a plaintive Jerry Garcia vocal before we could tell the vocalists apart, “New Speedway Boogie” is the essence of seventies music. Not made for the radio, but for the listener, who purchased and spun these albums ad infinitum.

Please don’t dominate the rap Jack, if you’ve got nothing new to say

Yup, that’s how we spoke back then. We RAPPED to each other!

And, of course, the second side closer, “Casey Jones”, went on to be the most famous cut on the album, one of the biggest Dead songs ever, maybe only equaled by “Truckin'”. You can hear the snort of cocaine right at the beginning, before the music starts. “Casey Jones” is the essence of the Dead, a drug-fueled trip of one’s own, society be damned.

And be sure to listen to “Easy Wind”, for the Pigpen vocal if nothing else. Pigpen was the soul/R&B aspect of the band, if he had survived, the legacy would be just a bit different, a bit less mellow.

As for the rest of the record, it sounded closer to Nashville, to country, than anybody other than the Flying Burrito Brothers at this point. One of the reasons “American Beauty” was so successful, in addition to “Workingman’s Dead” laying the groundwork, was the step back from the hard core country sound. “Workingman’s Dead” is spare, at times depressed, despite the ultimate ubiquity of “Uncle John’s Band” and “Casey Jones” it wasn’t for everybody, just the band’s audience, which proceeded to grow and grow. You see the Dead weren’t owned by the man, but their fans.

And “Workingman’s Dead” is the foundation. Without it, you don’t have the Dead of today. The venerated band that was far ahead of its game, who let people tape and trade when that was considered anathema, who realized road receipts trumped record sales every day of the week.

Start here.

Or if you know it already, think back, revel in the pleasure of its discovery.

Yes, the Dead are not quite like anything else. It’s a road, a commitment, it’s definitely worth the journey.

Spotify link

Previous Rhinofy playlists

Who do you go to for guidance? Who understands how the game is really played? Who can help you navigate the waters, help you get to your destination?

It’s usually not your best friend. He or she will tell you what you want to hear, not what you need to know.

And your parents… You don’t tell them the truth, why should they be able to give you appropriate advice? Furthermore, you’re their child, embodying all their hopes and dreams. They can’t get over their image of you to truly rescue you from the pickle you’ve gotten yourself into.

No, you need a business colleague. One who might not even truly be a friend. Who’s a bit more than an acquaintance. Who knows the parameters. Who will help you out.

Some will want payback. That’s the game they play. They want to help you so you’ll help them, when they need it.

Others do it out of the goodness of their heart.

But you need their advice, or you’re lost.

Oftentimes they’re the most reviled people in the business. Because those sans wisdom are jealous. That these people know how to play the game and they don’t. They figured out how to get ahead, when to hold ’em and when to fold ’em. Everybody thinks it’s about connections, who you know, where you went to college, what you got on your SATs, but you can’t quantify wisdom, it’s not something you put on the wall, it’s something you gain, through insight.

Those with wisdom have experience. Young people are bullheaded, they believe they can power their way through anything. The older you get, the more you realize this isn’t true. Life is about losing as opposed to winning. And if you don’t know this, you just haven’t lost yet, or you’re living in denial.

That’s what you want, one phone number, one e-mail address, one person you can go to in a moment of crisis who can shoot it to you straight. Who can tell you whether to take that job, marry that person, invest that money. Because they’ve been there before. They’ve analyzed the situation from all angles. They’re your last best hope at figuring it out.

On “Newsroom” this week, Sloan Sabbith is in a pickle. She needs wisdom, she needs someone to guide her through.

Mackenzie MacHale, another woman, rises to the occasion.

But although Mackenzie is a friend, and means well, her advice leads to explosions. Instead of calming situations down, she adds gasoline to the fire.

So Sloan turns to Will. The anchorman. The asshole.

Because Will has survived. He’s been there. He’s made it to the top. And that’s no easy feat. You may be jealous of the President, of the CEO, but respect the fact that they got there. They’ve seen the game. They know how to play it.

Ultimately, it comes down to Sloan lying on the air. When she was right. She just committed an ethical faux pas.

But by lying, she’ll save her job and the job of the spokesman she interrogated on TV. She’ll save face for the corporation.

This is where it gets ugly. Most of the people who play by the rules, who believe everything is either black or white, don’t win.

Sometimes you’ve got to do what’s expedient.

Especially in the music business.

I could tell you stories that would make your hair stand on end. And sometime, late at night, I will. You can’t write them down. They can’t be attributed. But they’re the lore you’re privy to when you get in the game.

You’ve got to have your go-to guy. Or gal. You’ve got to know who to depend on for honest, expedient, forthright advice.

I’ve got mine.

Find yours.

I blew ninety minutes on this last night and my only regret is it ended.

I famously say I live in California because of the Beach Boys. And if you don’t believe me, you’ve never heard “California Girls”.

But by time I’d graduated from college and was footloose and fancy free, the music had changed. Instead of Brian Wilson, it was the Eagles. Who dropped “Hotel California” the year I entered law school. Can you imagine hearing that for the very first time? I went up to Music Odyssey on the day it was released, came home and broke the shrinkwrap and was absolutely stunned when the sound emanated from the mega-stereo I got as a reward for giving up the itinerant life of a ski bum. It’d been eighteen months since “One Of These Nights”. The “Greatest Hits” album had only increased the legend. We knew Joe Walsh had joined the band, but who expected this turn into rock? Suddenly, the Eagles were the biggest band in the land.

And it was all because of that song.

Today music is mindless. Something that bounces off your ass as you’re boogieing in the club. But no one could listen to “Hotel California” and smile beatifically. It was dark, it was introspective, it made you question, and it was the biggest song in the land.

But that’s not where this 2007 documentary from the BBC starts.

Really, it begins with the Byrds. With David Crosby. Pontificating.

But he’s not the only one.

You get Graham Nash. Hell, you even get Ned Doheny!

But first and foremost, you get David Geffen. Looking younger than everybody else in the show. Telling the truth.

You see he was a motherfucker. That’s why Crosby, Stills & Nash hired him. Only Geffen could extract the members from their former deals and put them together in this new band. “The man” can kill your music, via contracts.

And when Geffen sells Asylum to Warner and the Eagles hire Irving Azoff as their manager, what’s the first thing he does? Sue Geffen’s ass, for the publishing. Which Geffen never returned. Even though he gave Jackson Browne his publishing back.

And you’ve got to know something. It’s just business.

Then again, you play at this level and you’ve got no friends. You sleep with one eye open. Geffen says he had no paper with his acts, they could leave whenever they wanted to, but no one never did. You may tire of screwing the most beautiful person on earth, but you never tire of having a cunning Rottweiler in your corner.

And the arc of the show is a bit too simplistic. Kind of like Jonah Lehrer, making the facts, in his case the facts he made up, fit the story. You see life is messy. California is messy. For every surfer there’s a drug addict. For every sophisticate there’s an Okie. But in the late sixties that’s where you went, to feel free, to realize your dreams.

L.A.

What I love about it is most people don’t get it. They see the smog and the traffic and the lack of a downtown and mutter that New York is the greatest city in the land. That’s right. But if you’re not about the hustle and bustle, if you’re about feeling more than thinking, if you want to actually live your life while it’s going by, L.A.’s the place.

L.A. is where it doesn’t matter where you went to school, if you even did at all, who your parents are is irrelevant. You make it up in L.A. as you go. Your wits are your greatest asset. Your CV is almost meaningless. Can you hang, can you inspire, can you deliver?

A whole host of musicians did.

Sure, a lot of them lived in Laurel Canyon. But not all. Because the specific location was irrelevant, Los Angeles, California was a state of mind. It’s where it all began. It drove the culture. And as you watch these images go by, you’ll get that.

Oh, you can beat up the Eagles for being mercenary. Then again, he who succeeds is always subject to naysayers and abuse.

But this is how it worked back then. We followed the music. Business was one step behind. Listen to Geffen go on about it. And you can tell, he’s not lying.

Music just does not have that power today. The California sound put so much money in the system, everybody wanted in. Hell, that company known as Time Warner? Its main asset is its cable system. You know what paid for that? The profits from the record companies!

Hell, in the seventies there was more money in music than movies.

Because of the honesty.

See Carole King at the piano and you’ll marvel that she was ever that age, with so many hits under her belt already, starting over.

James Taylor… The junkie poet. Waddy Wachtel says if he was in a rock band, he’d be dead, he couldn’t get away with that lifestyle.

And be sure to stay in to hear the story of “Tonight’s The Night”, told so eloquently by Ron Stone. People forget that at the peak of his career, Neil Young intentionally destroyed it. No one else has done that since. They don’t have the balls.

If you lived through the era, your eyes will mist over and your heart will break at the same time you self-satisfiedly pat yourself on the back for being there.

If you weren’t alive back then, even if you favor hip-hop, country or electronic music, watch the entire thing. You’ll learn a few lessons. How a bunch of people who didn’t come from rich families, who in most cases had never graduated from college, invented an art form so powerful that it truly moved people. Yes, there was no more powerful person in the late sixties and early seventies than a musician.

Imagine that.

Start here:

From The Byrds To The Eagles Part 1 of 7

And at the end of the clip, click on the right to see the ensuing segment, there are seven in all.

This will make your day.