Am I the only one who found the excerpt of the Keith Richards book in "Rolling Stone" unreadable?

Have you ever seen such a scorched earth publicity campaign?  The mainstream media is fawning over this like Keef knows the location of Bin Laden, when all we really get is he did drugs and is pissed at Mick Jagger.  Who doesn’t know that?  Do they really expect casual Stones fans to pick up this book?  No, this is for the hard core.  And how big is that core?  How many people want to hear the ancient exploits of a soon to be septuagenarian?  It would be one thing if he’d written the book in the seventies, but to hear these stories now is like watching another video of the Jets’ triumph over the Colts in Super Bowl III.  We get it, the AFL was underrated.  NEXT!

Then again, people still care about football.  Music?  Not as much.  Or should we say we don’t have culture unifying bands that we follow from year to year.  And if you think GaGa impacts the culture I’m waiting for the explanation.  What did she do other than wear a zillion outfits and preach that she was beholden to her Little Monsters?  Did the music really say anything?

Or should I say I can’t get no satisfaction?

But I got tons of satisfaction reading the Millennium Trilogy, which got a fraction of the hype of Richards’ book but built via word of mouth.

In other words, six months from now will anybody really give a shit about Keef’s tome?

No.

It will be forgotten.  Like every other rock biography.  Hell, there was a definitive baseball book, Jim Bouton’s "Ball Four", but has there ever been a definitive rock autobiography?  Or is it that artists speak through their music and the written word is superfluous, done better by people who write for a living as opposed to those given cash by money-hungry publishers who stick them with a cowriter to reveal an inside truth that is usually told with one hand behind the back and ultimately leaves one as unsatisfied as after a one night stand.  Really, reading these rock books is like being in the arena after the lights have gone up and everybody’s left.  And if you’ve ever been in a venue when this occurs you know the creepy feeling.

Now if everybody involved just wants to make a quick buck, and the media covered the story that way, maybe I’d give these highly-hyped books a pass.  But they make them seem so important, tablets handed down from the mountaintop. We want something great, not high concept.  Hell, the movies were ruined by high concept.

You see that’s all there is.  Concept.  Who wouldn’t want to read the tale of the world’s number one vampire from the world’s greatest rock and roll band?  Well, shouldn’t the first criterion of a book be that it’s well-written?

Kind of like all star musical projects.  The credits are stellar, the music slides right off of you.

We’re in a completely new era.  Don’t be distracted by the endless hype for Keef’s book.  That’s just the death throes of baby boomer mainstream media pissed that it no longer has control of the public’s hearts and minds.

We’re bombarded with information 24/7.  We even take our screens with us.  If you can even get us to pay attention to your message, don’t think it’s gonna stick with us.  Life is one big wreck on the freeway.  You rubberneck and then drive on, instantly forgetting what you’ve seen.

If you want to triumph in the new world, you’ve got to have sticking power.

You’ve got to be good.

You’ve got to continue to satiate fans.

You’ve got to know it’s about igniting word of mouth, and you can’t do that via a publicity campaign manufactured and masterminded by a high-priced publicist working his old school relationships.

No one owns consumer relationships anymore.  Each and every one of us has his own Web of contacts.  Did you see that Facebook has a new feature where you can create subgroups?  You don’t want to be burdened with the information from everybody who’s your friend, just your close buddies.  Do you expect us to pay attention to the blowhards in the mainstream who feel entitled to their perch and speak down to us?

These know-it-alls know nothing.

They call it Inside The Beltway Syndrome in politics.  The people in D.C. are out of touch.  And the media just loves a horse race.  It’s not interesting if a race isn’t close.

But there’s no race in art.  Just crap and excellence.  We haven’t even got time for mediocre.

I couldn’t stop reading "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo".  I had a friend mail me a copy of the third book from the U.K. before it was available here.  And whenever I’d run into somebody reading the green-jacketed novel I’d speak with them, we were buddies, like the fans of the Stones who saw them back in ’69 and ’72, never mind earlier, before it became more about money than music.

I don’t care if you read Keef’s book and enjoy it.  That’s not the point.  The point is Keef’s book just doesn’t matter, just doesn’t count.  It’s not going to infect the populace, it’s not going to stir up debate, it’s not going to have a shelf-life, it’s a marketing exercise.

Whereas great art is never about marketing.  Sure, there’s a concept, oftentimes formed in a moment of brilliant insight, but execution is key.  Otherwise, it’s just facts, just news.  Imagine if your conversation was limited to that, if your friends couldn’t embellish, couldn’t add nuance to their stories.  It’s how you tell your story that’s important.

It’s not important that you wear skinny jeans and look good.  It’s all about your message.  And how you deliver it.

Concentrate on getting it right.  If you do, word will spread, because so few people get it right.  People are looking for greatness 24/7, but almost never find it.  When they do, they tell everybody they know about it, not because they’re being paid, but because it’s one of the thrills of life, turning another human being on to something inspiring, oftentimes life-changing.

I’d be more interested in Keef’s book if Tom Wolfe or the dearly departed David Foster Wallace reported their conversations with him, unfiltered.  That’d be interesting, a great writer giving his insight.  But to read endless pages of strung together facts…

Hell, Keef could have at least employed J.R. Moehringer, who did such a good job with Andre Agassi’s book, since he’d written his own great work "Tender Bar".

But still…  Who will care about Agassi’s book five years from now?  ONE YEAR FROM NOW!  What we love most is fiction, written by people locked up in a room forever, alone, working to get it right.  Just like we want to see musicians on stage who’ve sweated for years, worked on their craft to get their performance right.

And aren’t you always most enamored of bands you discover via your friends?

To quote the unfortunately deceased Jim Carroll, I’m just a constant warning to take the other direction.  Everybody hyping this Keith Richards book was afraid to go to a Rolling Stones show when the band was still scary and edgy and alive.  They’ve come to the party too late.  Why does their opinion matter?

I’m gonna clue you in…  Only your opinion matters.  And only people you know respect your opinion.  You’re unhypeable.  Thank fucking God.

Life by Keith Richards

2010 World Series Game 2 – Fans sing along with Steve Perry of Journey

This is why we do it.  This is why we write and perform music.  This is why a musician’s life is richer than that of any Wall Street banker, any politician, any sports figure.

They say that money is king, that it changes everything.  But you haven’t experienced true power until you hear 40,000 people singing your song, with no bouncing ball, no coaching, but by heart.  That’s how much you mean to people.

Most people under thirty have no idea who Michael Milken is.  As for Henry Kravis battling for RJR Nabisco, huh?

A friend of mine’s 17 year old daughter went to a political fundraiser and spent half an hour engaged in a great conversation with a diminutive woman and when the people who brought her wanted to take a picture she couldn’t understand why, she didn’t know she’d been sitting next to and talking to Julia Louis-Dreyfus.

"Seinfeld" is the best TV sitcom ever, but even a glorious concoction like that fades, but not a great song, a great song lives forever.

This clip is not as good as the one of "Don’t Stop Believin’", the audio is low and the camera person is far from the man himself, and yes, I know now that the Giants made sure Steve Perry was there, but about 1:20 in you hear the assembled multitude sing "Lights" and you’re overwhelmed, they know it, it’s in their DNA.

Imagine having that much impact on somebody!  People don’t seem to know Barack Obama’s religion and birthplace, but everybody knows the Beatles are from Liverpool.  They can name all four members, even though they’re not even sure who their Congressman is.  As for "Birthday", if you’ve lived to experience one, you know the Beatles’ song.

If you’re doing it for the money, if you think it’s about the trappings, you’re wrong.

It’s about the SONGS!  In order to last they need to be able to be sung a cappella, they must tug at people’s hearts, make them feel all gooey inside.

And the ability to touch people in this way is so difficult.  Anybody can write a song, but can you create one so great that everybody knows it and can sing it?

This is why everybody wants to be a rock star.  To feel this power.  To bask in the effect of your creation.

I don’t want to hear that this financial wizard is a rock star, or this politician, that’s missing the point.  A true rock star can touch and move people in a way that no one else can.  That’s the power.

And Steve Perry and those ancient Journey songs from last century have the power to not only ignite a whole city, but an entire nation.

From: William Hinsche
Subject: A Buffalo Tale…

Bob,

I went to a birthday party for my friend and schoolmate, Deana Martin, at her family’s home in Beverly Hills circa ’66 – ’67.  I think it was her (significant) eighteenth birthday and she wanted the Buffalo Springfield to perform at the party; so the band showed up, set up and played out by the pool.  It was real bare bones: no stage, not even a riser, just drums and amps on the asphalt in front of the length of the pool; of course, no special lighting whatsoever.  Dino, Desi and I were already enjoying a modicum of success and I was a big fan of this new LA group.  I had listened to their eponymous album, loved the songs, studied it closely and learned a lot of new guitar technique; like on "Rock ‘n’ Roll Woman" I even started employing my amplifier’s vibrato / speed function during some of our own live performances and recordings – so I couldn’t believe they were playing in the Martin’s back yard.  I’ll never forget how Neil was dressed in his full-on fringe jacket regalia that was his signature look.  They did "Clancy," "Sit Down, I Think I Love You" and more – they sounded great.  

So the story goes, at one point in the evening, Dean, who was in his upstairs private den / bedroom area of the house and within earshot of the concert, couldn’t handle the "loud music" anymore, so he anonymously called the BHPD and complained of  "a lot of noise at the Martin’s house."  The cops arrived shortly thereafter and shut everything down.

Epilogue:  Deana was not happy about it when she found out, but Dean got a big kick out of this stunt and used it a few more times whenever a party got too loud for him.

True story,

Billy Hinsche

BUFFALO SPRINGFIELD REUNION
Bridge School Benefit 2010 – Saturday Show

Listen to this before they take it down.

Solid proof that video is a disservice to music.  Listening to these tracks one feels closer to the music, closer to being there than watching any YouTube clip.

And for those of you young ‘uns who wonder what it was like in the pre-MTV/video days, it was like this.  Live takes by our favorite bands were rare.  We snuck in cassette decks, we purchased bootleg albums, all in an effort to get closer to the music.

You can’t hear the image on these streams.  Whether the players are beautiful or ugly is unknown.  But you can hear the experience.  This is not the sound of mechanized beats, this is the imperfect sound of human beings.  So imperfect as to touch our hearts in a way no airbrushing, whether audio or video, ever could.  You can clean up the tracks, but you end up with less.  It’s our warts that make us appealing.  Remove them at your peril.

You can’t play this well at age thirteen.  Used to be you had to pick up your axe at that age, practice when you were the only one who was listening and slowly enter a world that only let you play if you were good.  You couldn’t post your tracks online, if you were truly good, you could get someone to pay a cover to see you live.

Really, these tracks are revelatory.  I’m listening to "Bluebird" and the guitar interplay as the track wears on is the essence of music, the interplay amongst musicians speaking to each other and ultimately to us through their instruments.

Sell this as is on iTunes today.  Not so it can be number one, but so those who care can be satiated, so they can listen over and over again and turn others on to the joy of this music, expanding the tribe.

The basics always work.  The core of great songs and great playing never goes out of style.  All that hype with the beautiful people working with the usual suspects is because it’s just too damn hard to do it right.

Damn this music is fine.