“Luck Of The Draw”

These things we do to keep the flame burning
And write our fire in the sky

As you get older, your dreams dissipate. What seemed within your reach keeps getting further and further away. In high school everybody’s in your business, graduate and suddenly nobody cares. You’re on your own. The only thing keeping you going is your gumption. You can go to work for the man, enter a hierarchy barely different from school, but there’s no club for artists, no game… You’re creating your own.

And it seems almost no one is paying attention.

This Paul Brady composition first appeared on the Bonnie Raitt album of the same name. It’s so haunting you’re both drawn in and repelled. It’s like an episode of “thirtysomething,” a drama not made for Lifetime. Where you just work hard and maybe…nothing happens.

Tomorrow’s letter by the hall doorway
Could be the answer to your prayer

Ain’t that the truth. It’s the carrot that keeps us going. Without it, we wither and die.

“Trick Or Treat”

And then Paul Brady got his shot. Oh, he had a whole career in the U.K., he was a staple in Ireland, but in the U.S. he was unknown.

Gary Katz, the legendary Steely Dan producer, was hired to helm the project. And the more you listen to the album, also called “Trick Or Treat,” the more you love it. It becomes your favorite. It sticks in your brain.

But the entrance point is “Trick Or Treat.” The best Bonnie Raitt track you’ve never heard.

Alas, it’s a duet, but Bonnie sounds so three-dimensional, so sexy, you’ll fall in love with her, even if you know nothing about her, even if you’ve never seen a photograph, never mind seen her in concert.

Sometimes the things that you say
Can hurt me so bad
You know that it’s true
Sometimes your love lifts me up
So high I could cry
Can’t live without you

EUREKA! THAT’S IT!

You might call it volatility, I call it life. Yin-yang, push-pull, attraction-repulsion. One day you hate ’em, the next day you love ’em.

And the track has got this breezy feel, like the train is hurtling at sixty miles per hour and the engineer is unclear where they’re going or if they’re gonna run out of track, but you don’t care!

Sometimes I fill up your cup
So your river flows
You know that it’s true
Sometimes my love makes you pay
Though baby, I swear, I’m not wanting to

Self-knowledge! Instead of saying, “It’s you, not me.” she admits she’s complicit. Wise. Alive, but not weary. That’s what the miles of life give you, wisdom and insight.

Like a knock on the door
Open it up
What do you see?
Could be a trick or treat
Bitter or sweet
Which one you gonna be?

Whew! We’re not talking about manic-depression, we’re not talking about Sybil, we’re talking about life. You never know what you’re going to encounter when you walk through the front door.

You no compass, baby, me no map
No one to show us where they laid the trap

Everybody’s looking for answers. But they’re usually going to the wrong place. Books, movies, friends, relatives. Whereas some things you can only learn by yourself.

There’s no compass or map in life. You make it up as you go.

Trick or Treat, baby, that’s the game
One day passion, one day pain
You can try to change the rules, but…
Trick or Treat make you the fool

It’s relentless. It constantly flows forward. It’s a rushing river that could swallow you or give you a ride that will thrill your pants off. They call it life.

Throw off your armor, jump in and enjoy!

“Can’t Stop Wanting You”

Hot words on a summer night
You ‘n’ me having a fight
One drink and it all come out
Before I knew what we were fightin’ about

This relationship has faded in the rearview mirror. But I’ll never forget it. That’s what we had in common, alcohol. It started off so much fun, and sometimes it would lead to the night of our lives, with drunken sex and laughs in bed.

And other times it would devolve into something out of a bad movie. Where not only past hurts were dredged up, but our entire histories, down not only to our birth, but our ancestors.

But breaking up was nigh near impossible.

Because one part of me couldn’t stop wanting her.

“Paradise Is Here”

You say you wanna live some
Move out into the fast lane
You say you need excitement
To make you come alive
Some place a million miles from
The shadows that surround you

The fact that my wife left defines me.

Before I was different. Trusting. Believing people were good.

But now I’ve got more questions than answers.

You think you’re in the groove, doing o.k., and then your betrothed rolls over in bed and asks “Can this marriage be saved?” You think it’s a joke, but it’s deadly real.

What is she looking for? What entices her about the vast world out there without you?

You fight for her to stay, but she goes anyway.

And when she wants to come back, you can’t return to where you once were. What you once overlooked is now a dividing line.

I look for your attention
You’re lost out in the future
Where lovers ask no questions
And shadows never fall
Some pilgrim bound for paradise
No compromise

Relationships are hard. And I’m never going to go on autopilot. I’m gonna fight it out. Not to prove I’m right, but to establish and maintain connection. A marriage ring is no guarantee your partner will wanna hear what you have to say.

But paradise is here
It’s time to stop your crying
The future is this moment
And not some place out there

But it didn’t matter what I had to say. She was gone. Pleading just makes it worse. When they’ve turned against you, nothing you can do or say can make them come back, if they do, it must be at their own insistence, based on their own revelation.

You talk about your new plans
To move on up the stairway
You dream about the high life
That’s waiting for you there
A world of fame and fortune
That’s just around the corner

The irony is that’s my life, not hers. But it took me a decade and a ton of psychotherapy to believe in myself, to not believe I was inferior and lived in her absent shadow.

But I don’t need no high life
To make me feel like a real man
And I don’t need to reach for
No castles in the sky
Just put your arms around me
Devour me

That’s what we really want. Not fame or fortune, just a significant other who wants to ride shotgun on the endless highway of life.

“The Long Goodbye”

I know they say if you love somebody
You should set them free (so they say)
But it sure is hard to do
Yeah, it sure is hard to do

Easy for Sting. Easy to say.
But so hard to do.

And I know they say if they don’t come back again
Then it’s meant to be (so they say)
But those words don’t pull me through
Cos I’m still in love with you

That’s what they don’t tell you in books. That’s what’s not represented in the media. The stars jump from bed to bed, but the truth is we’re just animals, desirous of bonding and categorically unable to forget. What do they say, sleep with someone once and it creates an indelible bond, it changes everything forever?

I believe that.

But when you go on to have a relationship…

After it ends, you don’t forget them, unlike a mediocre meal they stay in your brain, you can’t eradicate them from your memory.

Sometimes I ask my heart did we really
Give our love a chance (just one more chance)
But I know without a doubt
That we turned it inside out

Sometimes you’ve got to call it quits.

But that’s easier said than done.

And if we walked away
It would make more sense (only self defense)
But it tears me up inside
Just to think we still could try
How long must we keep riding on a carousel
Goin round and round and never getting anywhere?

Our eyes roll at our friends who can’t give it up.

But even worse is those who don’t even try.

Here’s my one piece of relationship advice. If you want to become entangled, find someone who understands commitment. Whether you stand in front of clergy or not. You want someone who’ll hang in there through the good and bad, who’ll stay connected through the rough times as well as the easy ones. Because being apart is usually so much worse than being together.

This is the long goodbye
Somebody tell me why
Two lovers in love can’t make it
Just what kind of love keeps breaking a heart
No matter how hard we try
You’re gonna make me cry
Come on, baby, it’s over… Let’s face it
All that’s happening here is a long goodbye

Yes, sometimes it truly is over. The pain exceeds the pleasure. You just can’t go through it again. All the drunken adventures are eclipsed by the hangover. But that doesn’t make it any less painful.

And I’ve included two takes of “The Long Goodbye,” the more produced one and the more naked one. And isn’t it funny the less you’ve got on a track the more honest it becomes.

And Brooks & Dunn had a hit with “The Long Goodbye,” no one could miss with such a great song, and that’s been Paul Brady’s bread and butter for decades.

But you should know the source.

Rhinofy-Paul Brady

Previous Rhinofy playlists

Movies and MTV, they’re both in the dumper. Statistically and emotionally.

We heard for a decade that digital photography was going to kill film, that Kodak was not prepared. But it never seemed to happen. Then, seemingly overnight, everyone had a digital camera and Kodak filed for bankruptcy. Just because the future isn’t here yet doesn’t mean it’s not coming. And what’s most fascinating is how the whole paradigm shifts. Photographs used to be for professionals and hobbyists. With the former earning a good living and the latter shooting little, because of the cost, and displaying few. Now pros and hobbyists have merged, the old pros don’t stop bitching, and people shoot thousands of photos a year, posting them online, e-mailing them to friends. Only the most spectacular professional photographers earn a handsome living today. It’s just like music. Now it’s easy to make, but only the supremely talented get rich while everybody else bitches the paradigm shift has killed them.

But the paradigm shift comes anyway.

“Audiences Falling Sharply For MTV, Comedy Central”

MTV’s ratings dropped 32% in the four weeks ending October 21st.

Now they’re never going to show videos during prime time on MTV ever again. Videos are on demand items, for the Web. But MTV got so far from its mission statement, clouded its identity to such a point, that now it’s just another TV outlet. Competing for viewers. Hell, it’s not even the young person’s clubhouse, that’s the Web. Or the smart phone. MTV removed “Music” from its name and didn’t even celebrate its thirtieth anniversary. By chasing dollars today, it cratered tomorrow. It ran from music to the point even the VMA ratings tanked. And MTV never had a good Web strategy. And finally, just like with digital photography, youngsters are finally spending hours online, with Web video, as opposed to traditional TV. MTV is in trouble. It may never recover.

“Movies Try To Escape Cultural Irrelevance”

Once upon a time you went to the movies because they were good, they drove the culture. Then you went for commonality, so you could have something to talk about at parties. Then you realized they all sucked and stopped going and everybody said the problem was you, look at the grosses…

Finally the newspaper is reporting what we all know. The movies are toast. Made for adolescents or foreign markets, they don’t speak to us, they don’t drive the culture, if you want story, watch TV.

Furthermore, movie studios aren’t what they used to be. They’re part of giant conglomerates, barely moving the needle of profits and losses. Sure, everybody knows what was number one at the box office, but very few know who runs these studios. And few care.

In order to survive, movies have to shoot lower financially, but straight at the hearts of the audience. Studios have to retool. Instead, they’re probably gonna chase the instant success dream just like MTV and descend into obsolescence.

It’s kind of like that old Leonard Cohen song, “Everybody Knows.” Everybody knew that the movies were toast before they finally cratered financially and the “New York Times” wrote this story.

Everybody knows if you chase trends, your musical career is over.

You’ve got to stay the course, you’ve got to stand for something, or else you stand for nothing. That’s what killed MTV and the movies, they’re meaningless, just profit centers without a cultural mission statement.

Things change. Technology accelerates the pace.

You can’t hold back the future.

Instead, you must keep your eyes open and adjust.

And this might mean you lose in the short run.

But you’re playing for the long haul, right?

I’d like to tell you I’m the kind of guy who fits in. Who’s been on an endless winning streak. Well-adjusted and happy.

But that would be untrue. My life is about spectacular peaks and long stretches of valley. And what’s got me through, what’s carried me to the next peak, has been music.

And I like some of the big hits. Who doesn’t smile when they hear “Sweet Home Alabama”? Who doesn’t crank it and sing along?

Then there are other songs, less famous, that mean even more to me, because they’re mine. Never played on the radio, never discussed in the paper, but part of my own personal pantheon.

Like “Restless In Mind.”

I love Wendy Waldman’s music. I bought her initial album upon the recommendation of “Rolling Stone” and I was not disappointed. I still play it forty years on.

But Wendy never broke through. She had a few hits, sung by others, but stop people on the street and they’re clueless.

But a few years back, not that many, in this century, Wendy released an album of loose ends entitled “Seeds and Orphans” and there’s this cut on there entitled “Restless In Mind.” I play it at least twice a week. When nothing is going right, when I need to feel in the pocket, I pull it up on my iPod. It never disappoints.

So I’m sitting in an art gallery in Thousand Oaks, literally a whole ‘nother area code, and Wendy sits down at the piano and her fingers start to move while she’s still talking and my heart starts to palpitate, SHE’S PLAYING RESTLESS IN MIND!

It’s obscure. It wasn’t on one of her Warner Brothers albums. I truly believed I’d die without ever hearing it performed live. But now she’s whipping it off, effortlessly, and my heart starts to soar, tears come to my eyes, I feel like my whole life is complete.

You can go to Staples Center, Madison Square Garden, you can sit with twenty thousand other people hearing the flavor of the moment, the has-been legend, but that’s a completely different experience from seeing your favorite only feet away. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for, not to tell other people, but to feel fully alive.

I’m not even sure how I got here. Escaping Middlebury College and moving to L.A. It’s hard to leave the past for the unknown. But I was never ever comfortable there. L.A. is truly home. And the fact that I convinced my sister to move here first, for graduate school, paved the way for me.

And thereafter came so many blind alleys, so many losses, that if I didn’t have an iron constitution, not only would I not be writing this, I wouldn’t be here at all.

And I’m one of those guys who’s never satisfied with good enough. All I care about is excellence. I get satisfaction from those reaching for the stars and grabbing a few.

And that’s what Wendy Waldman has done.

And to hear her perform my songs not only allows me to look back without anger, but to see everything in proper perspective, it gives me the power to march forward, it convinces me my life was worth living.

JIM McMAHON

Sports Illustrated cover

HE can’t remember his Super Bowl victory, not me. I mean come on, I’m gonna forget Refrigerator Perry?!

Once upon a time, mainstream media reached everybody, not only the seven o’clock news, but “Time,” “Newsweek” and “Sports Illustrated.” Now SI puts Jim McMahon on its cover, with a lengthy article about his football-induced dementia, and almost no one gets the memo.

As for reading the story, you can’t, unless you’re a subscriber. Put your stuff behind a paywall and you might make some shekels, but you’re killing virality. And you need virality to grow.

Speaking of virality, I read the McMahon article at the doctor’s office. And it stuck with me for days thereafter. I couldn’t help but write about it, I’ve been talking about it ever since.

As for McMahon’s inability to remember his Super Bowl victory, I read that previously. The point being today it’s about the cumulative effect. One promotional/publicity point has no impact. You’ve got to stay in the game, pardon the pun. As for front-loaded publicity, where you blow your wad all at once… That’s even easier to ignore and put down, because people can see the manipulation. The public knows if it keeps on hearing about you, then you might be real. you’ve got a chance. Kind of like “Gone Girl.” I ignored the initial hype, but when I kept hearing about it I was intrigued. But I didn’t buy it until I read the word “literary” attached to it. Well, then I downloaded the sample chapter, got hooked and bought it. Even Amazon knows it’s about giving a taste, selling art like drugs.

P.S. The McMahon story has now been posted online for free. Read it:

The Other Half Of The Story

JOHN MELLENCAMP

In case you don’t know, he credits himself as “Little Bastard” on his LPs. And he wrote a piece on the HuffPo the other day:

Good News! Ten Commandments Reduced Now to Only Nine

There’s something about the guy that’s incredibly off-putting. As if you touched him he’d writhe in pain. He’s prickly.

Now I liked a lot of his music. I give him credit for not repeating himself, taking chances artistically. But if you’re going to comment on tech, you have to be better informed. Otherwise, you’re just made fun of or ignored.

As for the article, it’s almost too long to read.

BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN

I hate his fans more than the man.

But I do deplore his groveling in front of them.

But the Boss gets an undue amount of press. I hate to sound like a Republican bitching about the left wing liberal media, but it’s the same thing. Most people don’t care about Bruce Springsteen. Hell, Meat Loaf endorsing Romney got more ink than the Boss appearing with Clinton. Then again, not many rockers endorse Republicans.

LADY GAGA

She’s selling religion. The music is only an entrance point. People need something to believe in, and she’s it. Bieber is just hormonal mania, puppy love. But in a world full of bullying and blind alleys, Gaga is someone you can attach yourself to, hold up as a beacon. This is the way all rock stars used to be. Before Jon Bon Jovi started shilling for Avon:

JON BON JOVI JOINS AVON IN LAUNCHING THE UPCOMING FRAGRANCES “UNPLUGGED” FOR HIM AND FOR HER

JOHN LENNON

I don’t believe in magic
I don’t believe in I Ching
I don’t believe in Bible
I don’t believe in tarot
I don’t believe in Hitler
I don’t believe in Jesus
I don’t believe in Kennedy
I don’t believe in Buddha
I don’t believe in mantra
I don’t believe in Gita
I don’t believe in yoga
I don’t believe in kings
I don’t believe in Zimmerman
I don’t believe in Beatles
I just believe in me
Yoko and me
And that’s reality

My friend Larry Solters was the PR guy for Ticketmaster during the Pearl Jam debacle. Solters told the brass you can’t win by attacking the acts.

And you can’t. Because they’re the repository of all the hopes and dreams of their fans.

Face it, life is rough. It doesn’t work out the way you want it to. You’re too broke, too unhealthy and without the love you desire.

But these acts… They’re singing from their heart. You listen to their music and you forget your problems. You go to the show and you feel life is worth living.

So criticize the acts at your peril.

The point I’m making is acts have a responsibility. To quote the old bard, to live outside the law you’ve got to be honest. First and foremost, you’ve got to want to live outside the law, that’s why you become an artist, because you just can’t play the game, you just can’t handle the b.s., you think it’s a joke. But once you go down the road less traveled, you’ve got to stay on it. You can’t suddenly want to work 9 to 5, have a guaranteed income and a pension. You’ve got a responsibility to your fans.

But most acts don’t have fans. These issues never come into play.

Then there are giants, like John Lennon. He won the lottery, he lived the dream. But what he’s saying in “God” is it doesn’t work, it’s not what it’s cracked up to be, everybody is equal, follow your own dreams, have faith in yourself.

But people are sheep. Rather than expand their minds, they’d rather just follow someone else, blindly.

Better to follow Lennon and Dylan than charlatans, but just think of the power of those with huge fan bases. Just think what they can achieve.

Then think how hollow the exercise usually is. That life is so sad that people refuse to think for themselves, to confront their demons.

If you’re not questioning authority, if you’re not thinking outside of the box, you’re not an innovator, but a follower. The more you grow your gangs and stand on your soapbox the more the true revolutionaries ignore you. Did Steve Jobs compromise? Neil Young rarely has. And isn’t it interesting that Neil Young still has an audience when so many of his contemporaries do not.

Artists are true to themselves.

But fame is a game. Oftentimes manipulated by men you can’t see. Making you believe in flesh and blood that oftentimes has no more insight than you do.

Question your heroes. Push them to greatness. Know that your belief must be earned.

And if you’re starting down the path of stardom know that wealth and fame do not solve a human being’s problems. You can be just as lonely and at loose ends as a rock star as you can as a homeless person. Therefore, the work must keep you warm, must keep you happy. Just doing it must be enough.