He was only 17.

And we didn’t know the McCoys didn’t play on their hit single.

As far as “Hang on Sloopy”… It was one of those songs like “Louie Louie” in that it was perceived to have a dirty underpinning, not that we could decipher it.

But “Hang on Sloopy” was a giant hit, and its follow-up, “Fever,” was pretty big too.

But that’s all they wrote for the McCoys, at least in their Top 40 iteration. However it’s one thing to have one hit, quite another to follow it up, so the McCoys were not seen as one hit wonders, and they did have the definitive version of the Bert Berns/Wes Farrell track, which every nascent guitar player learned after the three chords of “Gloria.” And once you learned those you played them with your friends in that band that was going to bring you to stardom, even though you never played a gig outside the living room.

Now Rick Derringer ultimately reappeared. And by time he did the rock press was burgeoning so we learned his real last name was “Zehringer.”

And in 1970 he wrote Johnny Winter’s breakthrough track, “Rock and Roll, Hoochie Koo.”

This was back when record labels could still hype bands into the public consciousness, although making them successful, having hit records, was not as easy.

And there was a gigantic hype on Johnny Winter. What a white hot guitar player he was. But nothing on his first Columbia record could garner traction, he was not a staple of FM radio, which took acts into the stratosphere. FM built careers. There was nothing wrong with crossing over to AM, but you didn’t want to be the McCoys, you wanted to last.

So the second Johnny Winter Columbia album was entitled “Second Winter” and had three sides. At this point Chicago Transit Authority had broken through with a double album, and the word was that Winter’s material was so good it couldn’t be contained on one disc, ergo two, with side four left blank.

But despite this marketing hook, Johnny Winter still didn’t break.

But then came Johnny Winter And. This was a group, the focus was taken off of  Winter himself, it was less about showing off than connecting. And one track connected big time…

“Rock and roll hoochie koo

Lordy mama, light my fuse”

This was something different. Straight ahead rock and roll. With a flourish of guitar right after the chorus. And the song was written by…Rick Derringer?

I didn’t know at the time that “And” was actually the McCoys, Columbia probably kept it on the QT, not wanting to taint Winter’s credibility (and no one bought a McCoys album, so no one knew who the members were).

But “Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo” is one of those tracks that seared itself into your brain on first listen. The riffs were chunky, with trebly accents thrown in. It had the earthiness, the rootsiness of the original rock and roll from the fifties, but it fit in perfectly with the acts now dominating the FM band, before prog rock, before this straight ahead sound was derided as “meat and potatoes” (but those Foghat tracks sound phenomenal all these years later).

Winter covered the Stones’ “Silver Train” on his next studio album, with Derringer playing slide, and Rick wrote the title track, one of Winter’s signature songs, “Still Alive and Well.” And  Johnny cemented his place in the firmament with the follow-up, “Saints & Sinners,” with Derringer back on board, albeit in a limited fashion. After his glam days playing arenas Winter became a blues purist and although his footprint was smaller, he then gained the credibility and the hard core fans he truly deserved. But if you were alive back then, the track Johnny was most associated with was “Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo.”

Until Rick himself covered it on his “All American Boy” album. It got a sh*t-ton of FM airplay, and over the years it’s Rick’s version that has become more famous, it’s the one radio still plays, which it does, to a limited degree. It never goes out of fashion, but it’s not top tier like “Ramblin’ Man,” never mind “Stairway to Heaven,” songs that are imprinted upon your brain that you never have to hear again in your life. As a matter of fact, I smile and turn it up whenever I hear “Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo.”

But in between Rick worked with EDGAR Winter, who had more commercial success than his brother, which was confounding at the time. Edgar didn’t sing, but he had hit songs. He put together a white hot R&B band fronted by Jerry LaCroix, Rare Earth’s old singer, and they called it White Trash, and ultimately Edgar had two hit singles, “Frankenstein” and “Free Ride.”

“Frankenstein” featured the guitar stylings of Ronnie Montrose, before he put out his own album with Sammy Hagar.

And Montrose also played on “Free Ride,” which was less of a novelty song, just a straight ahead tear written and sung by Dan Hartman, back when no one knew his name.

And then…

I lost track of Rick Derringer.

But I did see him at the NAMM show about ten years ago. He was in somebody’s booth just wailing. He was instantly recognizable, he looked boyish forever, and a small crowd was circled round, and that drew my attention and I watched.

However what had Rick Derringer been doing all these years?

Well now that he’s passed, we’ve found out. He produced those Weird Al albums. Even worked with the Steely Dan boys.

But he also did jingles and Wikipedia reveals a cornucopia of cuts he appeared on. But Rick made his bones before Wikipedia, when you had to buy an album to read its credits, so they weren’t all in one place and it kinda looked like Derringer had fallen off the edge of the earth.

But in truth he’d cobbled together a working career in music. Which is extremely difficult to do. I mean you’ve got to pay the bills.

And obits also told us that Derringer had become an Evangelical Christian with the associated politics. But I never knew that, I’m not sure many did, especially in this era of internet overload.

So now Rick Derringer is dead. And all I could think when I heard the news was it was before his time, how young he was. But Rick was not as young as I thought, he was 77. Then again, I’m 72. So…

You’ve got to know… The radio was dominated by the Beach Boys, the Four Seasons and studio constructions. There was a business, but there was not mania. Kind of like now.

And then came the Beatles and in their wake the rest of the British Invasion. And both poor and rich boys bought instruments and played in rock and roll bands, it was all we wanted to do.

But ultimately success seemed unreachable. A dream.

And then came this band of kids from Ohio with a salty hit that was undeniably rock and roll and they were respected for it, but they almost made you feel a bit jealous. It was supposed to be impossible. And if it was possible, that was supposed to be MY slot!

So Rick Derringer was more than a footnote. I’m sure people can wax rhapsodic about his life and career with far more detail than I have. But if you were more than a casual fan of rock and roll you knew about the McCoys and Johnny Winter And and Rick’s work with Edgar Winter. After all, at that point music meant EVERYTHING!

It doesn’t mean as much today. And rock itself is in limbo. There’s the speedo/screamo acts of Active Rock, and the twangy bros of country who are playing Les Pauls, but that straight ahead rock, with no frills, just guitars and drums and a lead singer… We haven’t had that spirit here for three plus decades, since the Black Crowes.

But twenty years before that we had Rick Derringer.

I don’t know how he wrote “Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo.” If it was easy, we’d all do it. But we can’t. That’s the marvel of music. Where did the inspiration come from, how did they put it all together… And it can’t be taught. You can practice and get better, but it all comes from the inside, from the artist.

“Couldn’t stop moving when it first took hold

It was a warm spring night at the old town hall”

That was the power of rock, it drew you to it, it entered your body and made you move.

We just lost another member of the rock pantheon.

“Rock and roll hoochie koo

Truck out and spread the news”

“You think you’re better than us.”

I get this e-mail on a regular basis. Now I’m wondering if it’s antisemitism.

That’s what resonated most with me in “The Brutalist.” The subtle antisemitism. It’s one thing if someone calls you a “kike.” Says grossly antisemitic things to your face. But oftentimes there are comments that only a Jew can really decode.

You’re too loud. You’re not one of us.

That scene in “Radio Days,” where everybody’s talking over one another at the dinner table… That’s how it is with Jews. Can sometimes be that way with non-Jews, but if you’re a Jew at a Christian table and you don’t know your place, know not to talk too loudly or too often, you’re going to be bad-vibed.

Which is why the characters in “The Brutalist” want to move to Israel. To be with their own.

Don’t conflate what is going on in Gaza with Judaism. For millennia the Jews have been the other, the root of all evil, and they know it. People will deny it, but that’s usually because they’ve overlooked the signs, they’re too busy fitting in.

Like Attila, who marries a Catholic and converts. He’s trying to deny his heritage, to blend in, to succeed. After the Second World War a number of Jews did this. Then again, it’s hard to do so if you have concentration camp tattoos on your forearm.

“The Brutalist” was even less commercially successful than “Anora.” It made only $50 million and two-thirds of that was overseas. Meaning that despite all the press, all the awards hoopla, very few people saw it.

And I can’t recommend that you do so. Because it’s slow and long and doesn’t pay off satisfactorily. At times when I was watching I thought it was akin to “The Master,” albeit better.

However, if you’re at all interested, start. If you hang in for fifteen minutes you’ll get hooked. I thought this was another Holocaust film until I saw it. But really, it’s about what happens after the war.

László Tóth emigrates to America after starting his architectural career in Budapest and being whisked off to Buchenwald. Attila is his sponsor in Philadelphia.

All the images are rich. You get the feel of the fifties. You see the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. 

And speaking of the beginning (and the end!), “The Brutalist” has one of the most innovative title designs I’ve recently seen.

Anyway, Guy Pearce plays a self-made rich man named Harrison Lee Van Buren who ultimately becomes aware of László’s rich architectural history in the old country and commissions him to build…

László is thrilled. And here comes another theme of the picture. László is an artist through and through. He’s willing to invest his own money to see his building completed according to his vision. The contractor and the lightweight American architect want to cut corners and do it more cheaply. But László will have none of it.

And we don’t only see this in architecture. It used to be prevalent in music, when the major labels had a stranglehold on production. And it’s still part of the big time game. Get the company money and they’re going to want a say, it’s going to be right in the contract, it doesn’t matter what you want, but what they decide. They are not artists, but they believe they know better. They might know money, at best, but not art. Artists have stood up for themselves from the beginning of time, and non-artists have had contempt for them for just as long. Artists are outsiders. It’s inherent in the outlook. If you’re me-too, just trying to fit in, you’re not an artist.

And László throws a tantrum when things don’t go his way. He’s definitely over the line, self-destructive, but artists are passionate, not expedient, and it’s hard for non-artists to understand this.

As for László’s wife Erzsébet… She stands by László’s side, will aid him in his endeavors, but will blow the whistle on him when he goes too far. She’s a partner, and far from silent. Which is typical of Jewish women.

Attila’s wife Audrey doesn’t want László around. Turns out she wants to eradicate Attila’s Jewish history, doesn’t want László and what he brings in her life.

Now one incredible highlight of the film is when they go to Carrara, Italy to purchase marble. The visuals are staggering.

And there is incredible tension in “The Brutalist.” You know something is coming, and you’re not quite sure what it is. And then it does, but there is a lot of time left in the picture, and then comes the unexpected, more than once.

So…if your idea of a moviegoing experience is a light afternoon sitting in the dark eating popcorn while you go on a visual ride that you don’t think about after the lights come up, “The Brutalist” is not for you.

If your expectations are sky high, believing you’re about to see a veritable tour-de-force, “The Brutalist” is not for you either. There’s little action. There’s a lot of subtlety. And the film is more about emotions engendered in the viewer as opposed to raw story.

But if you decide to press play you will be rewarded, you will be made to think. Not that I’m sure non-Jews will get all of what I’m stating above. They will identify with the Van Burens more than the Tóths.

As for the performances, Adrien Brody is much more than his accent, which is utterly impeccable, you marvel that he can hold it for so long. And this is usually enough to be nominated for an Oscar, but in truth the performance supersedes the accent. Brody delivers angst and happiness and frustration, he deserves his Oscar.

Guy Pearce is always good, going back to his breakthrough role in “L.A. Confidential.” It’s hard to believe he’s Australian, you know this guy, even if you’ve only been exposed to him once or twice.

As for Felicity Jones… She ultimately displays an inner strength that is palpable. She’s nobody’s patsy.

The rest of the performances are all good, but these leads are great.

Nobody wants to fund a movie like “The Brutalist,” which is why it took seven years and ultimately only $10 million to make. There can’t be a lot at risk. An original screenplay for a movie targeting adults? Who have a hard time getting off their rear ends to go to the theatre anyway? Never mind a bunch who only want positive experiences that leave them with a smile at the end of the flick.

It bugs me when people demand not only sunshine, but someone to root for. When someone tells me they hated everyone in the film it illustrates to me their horizons are narrow, because everybody is chiaroscuro, we’ve got likable traits and unlikable traits. No one is pure, no one is always upbeat, unless they’re hiding parts of their personality.

So if you like a short trifle to get you through your evening, don’t even start on “The Brutalist.”

But if you want a film to affect you, if you want to be taken away to a whole ‘nother world such that you forget your environs, if you want tension and issues of life…

Check it out.

P.S. It’s on Max.

I thought it was a foreign movie.

I used to consider the Oscars religion. Until one night in Utah I was unable to watch and ever since then I haven’t. Except for that one night during Covid when they held them at the train station. I wanted to see how that played out.

As for reviews… I don’t read them. Because they tell you the plot of the entire film. I want to enter something fresh.

All of which means as the years have ensued I’ve paid less and less attention to the movie business (I wasn’t interested in comic books as a kid, never mind comic book movies as an adult) and have focused all my attention on streaming television series.

However, the elite discussion, the reviews, continue to be about film, when all the action is in extended opuses. We learned this with “The Sopranos,” which was superior to anything in the theatre.

As for the moviegoing experience…I hate it. First and foremost because of the hassle, I’ve got to get there and the films don’t start when I want them to. Am I the only person who is time-challenged? I need a whole ‘nother life just to consume art.

Felice wanted to watch a standup.

I could cotton to comedy, but desired something with plot.

And “Anora” was billed as a comedy/drama. Which I guess it is. But it was not what I was expecting.

You see “Anora” is now on Hulu. Just a click away.

And I remembered it was nominated for Best Picture, I couldn’t remember who won, but we started to watch it and I asked myself…

WHERE ARE THE SUBTITLES?

Oh, they come a bit into the movie, when Russian is spoken. But it wasn’t long before I realized “Anora” was an American production. Because of the locale, if nothing else.

Oh, there are strip clubs all over the world, and I’ve seen foreign series where they’ve played a big part, but when they showed Anora’s residence right back up against the train tracks, this was clearly New York.

Now your mind won’t drift when you watch “Anora.”

And I’d love to tell you the movie is fantastic, it is not, but it’s definitely very good.

One thing that comes clear as you’re watching is this is the kind of movie Hollywood used to specialize in, prior to the blockbusters of “Jaws” and “Star Wars,” never mind the Marvel movies. There are none of the usual tropes…the car chases, the shoot-’em-ups, no, “Anora” is original.

And I did not recognize Mikey Madison from “Better Things.” Which never got its due because it was on a secondary cable channel and the public was not primed for this and…

Madison as Ani/Anora is almost scary. She’s a stripper, but I wouldn’t say she’s got a heart of gold. On one level she’s desperate. On another, it’s all about the Benjamins, it’s great to watch her negotiate.

Furthermore, “Anora” gets the strip club reality down pat. The customers are marks. The strippers feign interest for dollars. If you don’t know someone who was convinced that a stripper truly loved them, that they’d made a connection which would survive outside the club, you’ve never met a man who went to a strip club.

But Ani/Mikey has got a code. Which she will not waver from. And she will speak truth to power all day long. Because when you’ve got nothing to lose, why not?

And then there’s Karren Karagulian as Toros, the desperate priest.

Boy do they nail this. Everybody’s got to serve somebody, and Toros serves the Zakharovs back in Russia. And if he doesn’t get it right, if he doesn’t deliver, he doesn’t even want to contemplate the consequences.

As a result, Toros doesn’t care about collateral damage. Middle class denizens consider the law, the cost of items, Toros is above all that, because he knows that the law is no competition for the criminals he reports to and everything is replaceable, especially when you’re an oligarch.

So deep down inside Ani/Mikey is looking for a way out, and when she finds it she will not let go. Ultimately she does what is expedient, she’s got no choice, but up to the last minute she’s willing to give the middle finger to those who treat her wrong.

As for twenty one year old Ivan Zakharov… She puts her faith in him. But who can you trust? Are the underclass just playthings for the rich?

Now a truly great film has you wondering when it’s done. Pondering the deeper meaning. But I didn’t quite feel that.

However, “Anora” is a great ride. Vivid.

But I wish it was a series, because I wanted more backstory, more character development.

And if it had premiered on Netflix…

The press is as out of touch with entertainment as it is with politics. The press can’t deal with a show that’s available all at once, they need something dripped out. Every week we’ve got to read about the latest episode of “Last of Us” when there are series on Netflix that far eclipse it in viewership and quality. Ditto with “White Lotus” and “Adolescence,” which is the number one visual entertainment of the year so far.

And “Anora” is not “Adolescence,” which you can’t stop thinking about.

Then again, many more people saw “Adolescence.”

“Anora” may have won Best Picture at the Oscars, but it was only number 65 in last year’s worldwide gross. It made $59,732,509, of which two-thirds was foreign: $39,258,214. America is sliding in so many ways, the rest of the world can appreciate something deeper, whereas everything in America must be a two-dimensional cartoon.

But if “Anora” had premiered on Netflix, more people would have seen it. And that’s the ultimate goal. Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise. You want to become part ot the conversation, part of the ongoing fabric of the country as opposed to being a blip on the radar screen.

Now you only get one bite at the apple when it comes to attention. There are exceptions, but they are rare. Not one person has e-mailed me about “Anora” since it appeared on Hulu. No one is talking about it. But everybody but the press was talking about “Adolescence” right after it launched (the press caught on eventually, but didn’t know how to continue the story, not in the U.S., whereas in the U.K. “Adolescence” impacted the culture at large, there was discussion over whether laws should be changed).

So on one level, “Anora” is a darker “Hangover.” With elements of drama, like “Silver Linings Playbook.”

But there’s a grit and a truth in “Anora” that is absent from those box office successes. The nudity is not superfluous, it’s the way it is, you’ve been there. And Mikey Madison does not seem concerned with negative implications regarding her career in the future. Play hide and seek and Mr. Skin is all over you. Let it all hang out and it’s not so special.

I don’t want to be one of those wankers who reveals the plot points and ruins the movie. But you should definitely watch “Anora.” If for no other reason than to see this is what Hollywood reveres but doesn’t make anymore, it hearkens back to what once was.

But even more for the raw experience. The ride. Which is the essence of every great work of art, even if it’s more cerebral than action.

“Anora” has a visceral quality absent from almost all of today’s successful productions. It all goes swimmingly until you can feel the edge, become engrossed with the edge. And the battle between Anora’s fellow stripper, that’s life in a nutshell. You’re fighting petty little wars with someone at your level who the rest of the world does not give a damn about.

So if you have Hulu, watch “Anora.”

If you don’t… They’re selling great bundles with Disney+, Max and Hulu right now.

Very few people will pay the price of a month of streaming to see one movie before it’s available as part of a subscription. Either you go to the theatre, which most people can resist, or you wait until it’s part of a service you already pay for.

And the dirty little secret is by time it’s streaming…you usually don’t care, there’s something else you want to watch.

But you should watch “Anora.”

We tend to think life has an on/off switch. You’re either alive or your dead. But it rarely goes down that way.

We thought our classic rock stars were forever. Until they weren’t. They were going to go on tour, maybe walking and playing a bit more slowly, singing in a lower key, but they’d be right there on stage and then POOF, they’d’ be gone.

Happened with Jeff Beck. And then there are acts that are sick but unless you’re inside the circle you don’t know, like Glenn Frey and Jimmy Buffett. The former died before his time, at age 67, which may seem old to many, but not to today’s baby boomers. Glenn was ripped-off. Then again, you can’t fight father time and you can’t fight your genes. Sure, bad behavior can shorten your life, you can become a member of the 27 Club, but oftentimes you’re just minding your own business and…that twinge, that symptom that you think will go away doesn’t and suddenly you find yourself on the wrong side of the line. Happened to Peter Frampton. Who gets kudos for going on record about it, because most men do not.

What exactly was Donald Trump rambling about at West Point yesterday? Now he’s got those on the left wondering about dementia. Can you really attribute it to the weave? Are we seeing the Donald decline in plain sight like we did Joe Biden, with all his supporters and inside acolytes denying what we see with our own eyes as if they’re sweepers on a curling sheet?

Then there are the six Democratic members of Congress who passed in the past year. Can happen to anyone, but odds are it will happen more to the aged. Seventy is not the new forty, fifty or even sixty. Your attitude can’t fight genetics. We have better health care, but everybody deteriorates over time. It’s a shock, assuming you’re tested. I had a clear carotid artery scan in the nineties, but not recently. And when I bring it up to most people, even those with heart attacks in their families, they almost all say they’ve never even had this test. They’d rather live in ignorance, believing they’re going to last forever, like Warren Zevon, who might have been saved if he’d gone to the doctor earlier, but he didn’t.

So we’ve been laughing for decades about the Stones. You’d better go see them now because it could be the last time. But they keep keepin’ on. We expected Keith to go first, but out of the blue Charlie died, the Big C got the drummer, and it could get you too.

But you don’t believe it. And you believe if you’ve got it you’re going to fight it, even though science says otherwise. Your mental attitude has nothing to do with your results/possible recovery. Not a thing. You go through the course of treatment and you see what happens. And the weird thing is the person on the precipice usually makes peace with their passing just before they go, even though those who remain cannot.

But life goes on. That’s the amazing thing. LBJ was sworn in on the plane back from the assassination of JFK. Nobody is indispensable, everybody is expendable, we circle the wagons, squeeze into your space and go on, not because we’re a*sholes, but because that’s the nature of being human, it’s in our DNA to survive.

As for Billy Joel… For a long time he was like Meat Loaf, an absolute icon on the east coast, but not so much on the west. They never played “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” on the radio in Los Angeles, never mind most not knowing who Phil Rizzuto was. But Marvin Lee Aday is gone now. Covid got him. He refused the vaccine. I bet he’d take it now if he had the chance.

But we all get to rule our lives the way we want to. And we think this is a privilege, freedom, but in truth many are slackers, they don’t have enough money or enough character to take care of themselves. To dot the i and cross the t, to go to the dentist and doctor on a regular basis. If you’re poor you live less long, those are statistics, but we live in a world where no one believes them anyway, everybody believes they’re going to live forever.

All of my friends do, everybody in their seventies. Whether retired or not. There’s endless roadway before the sun sets. Only there’s not. Whether it be by accident, like with Dave Shapiro, or bad luck, like with Michael Leon. But everybody convinces themselves their situation is different, that they’re immune.

And despite all this talk about the aged constantly discussing their health, generally speaking men do not. They don’t admit their failings. How are you doing? GREAT! But then you dig beneath the surface, peel back the layers. and if they’ve gone to the doctor you find out this is untrue, their body is deteriorating, it’s got flaws, but they don’t want to admit it.

First it was the acts that made it in the sixties. Now it’s those who peaked in the seventies, even eighties. They’re falling off the radar screen.

But what’s worse is most of them will never be remembered, most of them are unknown by the younger generations. Those records you bought, those shows you went to, they don’t know and they don’t care and if you’re judging them for it let me quiz you on your parents’ music, I doubt you’ll know much.

So Billy Joel… He’s been married and divorced more than once. He’s been ripped-off, losing almost all of his money. He had a bad motorcycle accident. But he’s always bounced back, always.

Billy finally broke in L.A. with “My Life” in 1978. And he was one of the few classic acts who got on MTV and stayed there, Billy was a staple.

But then he decided to record no new music.

But something funny happened along the way. With no hits, his rep got even better. He went on tour with Elton John, dueling pianos, implying that he was just as big as the English star, and then he wasn’t performing that much and then he started to do big shows, even stadiums, and playing Madison Square Garden every month and…

Those MSG shows were not rote. He switched up the numbers, he had guest stars, they were positively alive. Which is kind of strange for such a big stage, most people are afraid to do this, but Billy became comfortable in his own skin, and he became even more self-deprecating, people love it when you have a sense of humor about yourself. Furthermore, he still had his chops, go to the show and you’ll be amazed. But will you be able to go anymore?

It’s not exactly clear from the stories in the press. We learned that performing made his condition worse and now he’s going to physical therapy and I’ve got no idea how this plays out, but there’s a chance you’ll never be able to see Billy Joel on stage ever again. And if you haven’t and want to, you’ll feel ripped-off.

Yes, that joke about the Stones is now true. This truly could be the last time.

It’s astounding that these old dudes (and it’s almost all males) can still ply the boards. Mick Jagger is still dancing, yet he had heart surgery. But what else are they going to do, stay home? Then again, Mick Ralphs has been in a nursing home for the better part of a decade. His playing is still stellar on the recording of “All the Young Dudes,” but he can’t play it on stage anymore. And the man who wrote it, David Bowie, will have been gone for ten years in January.

It’s a wake-up call. Then again, I seem to be the only one who wants to be conscious when I’m dying. Everybody I know wants to die in their sleep. I don’t get that. You’re alive and kicking and then you don’t wake up, having no idea that it was your last day on earth? No, I want to see it coming.

But no one sees the end of the classic rock performers coming.

Oh, they talk about it, about how their business will be missed, but now there are younger acts that can sell out stadiums.

It’s all going down the drain. It’s the nature of life. You can get plastic surgery, go on a GLP-1 and look just marvelous, but that does not change your DNA and the attrition of age.

Everybody’s in denial. Joe Biden believed he could rule until he was 86. Now it looks like he probably won’t even live that long. And we were supposed to believe too. In this artifice.

No one lives forever. Everything falls away. Billy Joel is 76. Your mom might be in her nineties, as mine was before she passed, but my dad died at 70. Sure, there are spry septuagenarians out there, but a ton are dying too.

But no one wants to talk about this, everybody wants to put on a brave face. Like I said, everybody thinks they’re going to live forever, but this is not the case.

So, if you’re in your seventies, don’t keep pushing your desires into the future. If you want to see that act, go NOW, because you may never be able to again. As for spending your money, and hopefully you have some, financial advisors will tell you one of the biggest hurdles they must overcome is convincing their clients to spend their money. Sure, if you want to save it and give it to your progeny, fine, but if you’re denying yourself…

As for medical breakthroughs… Good luck now that Trump has excised employees and wants to hold back money for research at universities. You want to pay no additional taxes, but believe me, on your deathbed, you’ll wish there was a cure.

I hope there is for Billy Joel. The last time I saw him was at the Hollywood Bowl, and I couldn’t ask for anything more, he was as good as he could have possibly been.

And I play his “Songs in the Attic” LP on a regular basis, it’s emblazoned upon my brain.

But that might be the only place it lives in the future.

“I don’t need you to worry for me ’cause I’m all right”

But fifty years later we are worried. Billy is no longer spry and neither are we.

“I don’t care what you say anymore this is my life

Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone”

That’s one thing you realize as you get older, we’re all equal. And we all excel in certain areas. We may not be able to play and sing like Billy Joel, but we might be able to fix the toilet or the computer or do a whole host of other things. That was your life. And in most cases, other than your family and a few friends, you’re being left alone.

But it’s art that brings us together. And nothing so much as musicians. They sing their life, which we identify with. They make us feel connected, they give us a reason to live. They’re off on the horizon and we keep trying to get closer to them.

But ultimately it’s a mirage. They’re gone. You think you know them but you never really did. Can we really ever even know another person?

But there’s nothing worse than being alone.

All those acts from way back when, they were ubiquitous in a way today’s acts are not. EVERYBODY who was conscious in 1978 knows “My Life,” whether they liked it or not, you could not escape it.

Yes, some people hated Billy Joel, but all these years later…

The same people who hated the Carpenters now love them.

But they pushed Karen over the edge.

We all are just dust in the wind.

But that’s more than a song.

This leaving…I don’t know where to put  my emotions, which are palpable, if for no other reason than no one else admits to having them.

Maybe they do.

But maybe the only way we can connect is through the records.

Those classic rock tracks. They were more than songs, they were life itself.

But the candle does not burn forever, at some point it either burns down to nothing or gets snuffed out.

Hopefully yours won’t get snuffed out before your time.

But it could happen, never forget that.

P.S. If you type “my life lyrics” into Google (sans the quotation marks) you get J. Cole’s song from 2021, and if that doesn’t prove the point…