Now there are two sides to every story.  Artists want to express themselves and labels want to make money.  And if you think labels are in it for anything but the money, you’re wrong, certainly not the major labels.  Make it a labor of love and let’s see how many employees are left…zilch.

But this doesn’t count against my commitment story is popping up ever more frequently.  I can see both sides in theory, sometimes the act just wants off the label or a higher royalty that’s in the contract for further LPs, and other times the label just wants to keep the act as long as it can for as cheap as it can.

But what’s definitely clear is there’s an adversary relationship.  And this adversary relationship is killing the major labels.

It’s very simple.  I give you the money, I tell you what to do.  What artist wants to be told what to do?  And if you don’t want to be told what to do, don’t take the money.

And that’s the paradigm that’s growing today.  Artists are doing it for themselves.  You can sell and get paid via Tunecore.  And is radio gonna play your music anyway?  That’s where the major label relationship is, radio and possibly TV, but how many acts are deserving of major TV exposure today?  And that’s more a reflection of vapid TV outlets than the acts.

Terry McBride had it right.  He was just too early.  You want to unify the copyrights.  So you’re in control.  So you can say yes or no.

A little birdie sent me the below e-mail with this note attached:

"In a nut shell he has an album titled ‘Lost Tapes 2’ that his fans have been dying to have since his first one came out in 2005. They seem to not understand the cultural impact the first one had. The album is done and now they are saying he can put it out but it won’t count on his deal and they won’t pay for it but still want all the benefits of a new nas album."

And here it is:

From: Nas
To: LA Reid, Steve Bartels, Steve Gawley, Michael Seltzer, Joseph Borrino, Chris Hicks
Subject: PUT MY SHIT OUT!

Peace to all,

With all do respect to you all, Nas is NOBODY’s slave. This is not the 1800’s, respect me and I will respect you.  

I won’t even tap dance around in an email, I will get right into it. People connect to the Artist @ the end of the day, they don’t connect with the executives. Honestly, nobody even cares what label puts out a great record, they care about who recorded it. Yet time and time again its the executives who always stand in the way of a creative artist’s dream and aspirations. You don’t help draw the truth from my deepest and most inner soul, you don’t even do a great job @ selling it. The #1 problem with DEF JAM is pretty simple and obvious, the executives think they are the stars. You aren’t…. not even close. As a matter of fact, you wish you were, but it didn’t work out so you took a desk job. To the consumer, I COME FIRST. Stop trying to deprive them! I have a fan base that dies for my music and a RAP label that doesn’t understand RAP. Pretty fucked up situation

This isn’t the 90’s though. Beefing with record labels is so 15 years ago. @ this point I just need you all to be very clear where I stand and how I feel about "my label." I could go on twitter or hot 97 tomorrow and get 100,000 protesters @ your building but I choose to walk my own path my own way because since day one I have been my own man. I did business with Tommy Mottola and Donnie Einer, two of the most psycho dudes this business ever created. I worked well with them for one major reason……. they believed in me. The didn’t give a fuck about what any radio station or magazine said….those dudes had me.

Lost Tapes is a movement and a very important set up piece for my career as it stands. I started this over 5 years ago @ Columbia and nobody knew what it was or what it did but the label put it out as an LP and the fans went crazy for it and I single handlely built a new brand of rap albums. It’s smart and after 5 years it’s still a head of the game. This feels great and you not feeling what I’m feeling is disturbing. Don’t get in the way of my creativity. We are aligned with the stars here, this is a movement. There is a thing called KARMA that comes to haunt you when you tamper with the aligning stars. WE ARE GIVING THE PEOPLE EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANT. Stop throwing dog shit on a MAGICAL moment.

You don’t get another Nas recording that doesn’t count against my deal….PERIOD! Keep your bullshit $200,000.00 fund. Open the REAL budget. This is a New York pioneers ALBUM, there ain’t many of us. I am ready to drop in the 4th quarter. You don’t even have shit coming out! Stop being your own worst enemy. Let’s get money!

-N.Jones

This movie is SO good, I want you to drop what you’re doing and run to the theatre IMMEDIATELY to see it!

Forget the issue of accuracy.  The reason I loved this film wasn’t the story, but the essence, the inherent kernel, that one person with a great idea can change the world!

Well, maybe it wasn’t Mark Zuckerberg’s idea.  But you can credit him with great execution.  And navigating the gauntlet of friends and hangers-on to ultimately triumph.  Mark may be an asshole, but if you don’t think you have to sacrifice friendships, do what’s expedient in order to make it, you don’t know the history of Madonna.

And isn’t that just the point.

In the twentieth century, the way you gave the middle finger to the establishment was being an entertainer.  You achieved notoriety, made a ton of dough from your fans and went your own way.  Now, entertainers are the most sold-out, whored-out people on the planet.  Tell me what to do, oh great record company President!  I need to tie in with corporations to get my message out.  It’s not good enough to stand on its own.  I need help in order to make it. Use me, abuse me, because my only goal is to become famous.  Sure, I’d like to make some coin along the way, but never enough where I can throw my weight around, where I can truly mess with the fat cats that run this country.

That’s what rock stars used to do.  Beholden to no one, they spoke their inner truths and moved generations.  Now, that’s left to techies.  The public enters the information, but the techies create a game, a framework that enriches lives and themselves at the same time.  Hell, isn’t that the way ROCK STARS used to do it?

So Zuckerberg went to Harvard.  Watching this movie, you can see why Sarah Palin and Christine O’Donnell have traction.  Because the dumb and uneducated are powerless in comparison to the highly educated.  Yup, the best and the brightest at Harvard.  You don’t have to go there to make it, it’s just that your odds are much better if you do.  It’s not only the raw intelligence and the Crimson imprimatur, it’s the sense of entitlement.  There’s no doubt, I can succeed, look, I made it this far.

Then again, Zuckerberg wouldn’t make it into a final club.  And ain’t that the point.  At what time are you gonna give up the rat race and go your own way. Get good grades to get into a good college to go to a good graduate school to slave like a dog to make partner and then…  Did you see that Goldman Sachs TERMINATES PARTNERSHIPS?  Once you were a partner, now you’re not, tough noogies, we’ve got to make way for the young ‘uns.

Or the rich and established, like the music industry infrastructure.  They don’t want to shepherd you to greatness and a career, they just want to make sure they keep their jobs and get RICH!  The laugh’s on you if you’re playing with the usual suspects.  Jimmy Iovine doesn’t need YOU to be successful, he just needs SOMEONE to be successful!  And if your career stalls in the process, so be it.

Everybody’s so willing to sell out in music.

Mark Zuckerberg didn’t want to sell out.

He makes this clear in both the movie and real life.

THE SITE CAN’T CRASH!  NO ONE CAN SIGN OFF!  WE CAN’T MONETIZE TOO SOON!  How come Zuckerberg knows that it’s about having credibility and keeping the customer satisfied and no one in the music industry does?

Tom Freston famously lost MySpace to Rupert Murdoch.  Who’s got the last laugh now?  MySpace is a disaster, always was.  Each page is a unique melange that stalls your computer and makes you think you got lost in the mind of a twelve year old.  Whereas Facebook is clean and functional.  Always was, still is.

Despite the gargantuan privacy issues in the Facebook world, at least you can control who’s your friend and what they see better than on MySpace.

And no one can believe Zuckerberg hasn’t sold out.  Sure, Microsoft owns a bit of Facebook, but aren’t you supposed to make a deal, take the money and run?  Not if you believe in yourself, not if you believe that money is secondary to satiation.  What are you gonna do with all that cash, lie on the beach?  Gets pretty damn boring, I’ll tell you.

When I went to college, we were intrigued by the rock stars, we wanted to know everything about them, we needed to buy the records and go to the shows.

Now we’re intrigued with the techies.  We want to log on, whether it be on our desktops or our mobile devices.  We want to know what’s happening, we want to plug in, we want to PARTICIPATE!  Where’s the participation in music?

The best and the brightest don’t go into music.  Hell, Sean Parker puts down the music business so briefly and so eloquently in this movie.  Makes you laugh at Paul McGuinness and Jim Urie trying to save the record industry, which really means saving the old way.  Hell, that’s like Verizon dropping FIOS and saying we’ve got to go back to landlines, bitching that everybody wants to go mobile and they want to text instead of talk.  You follow the people, you don’t yell and tell them to come back.

Sure, we want money, but even more we want power.  Not to exercise willy-nilly, but to impact and change the world.

One man with a laptop can do that.

We used to say one song could change the world.  Maybe that was true, once upon a time, but today the mainstream is infatuated with Katy Perry when their supposed customers know who the big-breasted singer is, but would much rather update their Facebook page, read their wall than stop and go to one of her shows.  What exactly is Katy’s message?

Watching this movie makes you want to run from the theatre, grab your laptop and build your own empire.  You’ve got the ability.  If you’re not starting, it’s sour grapes, you just don’t believe in yourself enough, you’re just not motivated enough.

I went to see this movie because Jim Guerinot left me a message about it.  And I could hear the excitement in his voice.  I didn’t even bother to read the reviews, I don’t know those people, I don’t trust them, what’s their agenda?

And Jim’s client, Trent Reznor, did the soundtrack.  I read about it, but didn’t expect it to be SO GOOD!  So ominous, setting the tone so well.  Trent may be the new Danny Elfman.

And everyone in the old media world bitching about accuracy…  They just don’t get it, they’ve become irrelevant.  This one dude trumped them.  Sure, he may have sociability issues.  Sure, he may hide behind his hoodie.  Sure, he may have no friends.  But he built Facebook, which works as well as an Apple product when Microsoft and Nokia and RIM, established companies, can’t seem to accomplish this.  He changed the world and he’s still in control.

Screw the tentpole movies.  "The Social Network" is not a franchise, but a film that captures the zeitgeist.  Go see it.  RIGHT NOW!  YOUR JAW WILL DROP!

She’s a good girl, loves her mama
Loves Jesus and America too…

I didn’t expect this so early in the set.

Maybe it’s the mention of the Valley.  Or Mulholland.  But TP is now seen as a SoCal act.  Not a guy who moved to L.A. and dated actresses and was featured in gossip columns, but one of us, one of the civilians who got a taste of the weather and the emotional freedom and said to himself THIS IS THE PLACE!

It didn’t start out this way.  Like so many Angelenos, Tom Petty was born far from the promised land.  But he grew up listening to so many productions created here.  We were glued to the radio.  Listening to the tunes from Liverpool, London and L.A.  We took up guitars, started to play, and some stuck with it.  Like Tom and world-class Mike Campbell.  And after knocking around in cover bands, some decided to go all the way and try to make it.  They weren’t looking for momentary success, this was a calling, education fell by the wayside, it was all in.

Some succeeded.  Most did not.  But those that made it loved the travel, the drugs, the lifestyle, but first and foremost came the music.  They didn’t want to be actors, they didn’t want to endorse perfumes, they just wanted to plug in their guitars and wail.

And now it’s decades later.

The audience does not look the same.  But the audience remembers.  When you didn’t listen to talk radio in the car, but music.

TP was not part of the first wave.  But like the classics, he sustained, he’s got a body of work.

That was the most impressive thing Friday night.  This is not GaGa, this is not Bieber, Tom’s got a CAREER!  He doesn’t need to dance, doesn’t have to distract us in any way, because the music is enough.  The sheer breadth of the material, from "American Girl" to the new "Mojo" tracks, was positively staggering.

So with his hair a bit more brown than blonde, Tom takes the stage, the band falls in behind him and the whole Bowl starts to levitate.  We were free fallin’!

Everybody knew every word.  Everybody had seen that video on MTV, you know, the one with the girl on the skateboard ramp.  Yes, we baby boomers watched the music television channel.  We were intrigued, we couldn’t believe we could get this close to our favorite artists, we were riveted.

And it wasn’t only oldsters in attendance.  It was a cornucopia of SoCal.  And it wasn’t calcified.  The tunes are not so old that we were only looking backward, Tom has soldiered on, like us.  This is not the farewell tour, but another step in the endless tour.

Yes, Tom’s played with Dylan.  And the Dead.  They recognized something in him.  That he came from the same place, where music is first.  And so do we.

"I Won’t Back Down" was early too.  This guy’s got so much material, he doesn’t have to save the big hits.

And that riff in "Mary Jane’s Last Dance"…IT STUNG!

And the cover of Fleetwood Mac’s "Oh Well"…OH WELL!  Mike Campbell played Peter Green’s part better than Lindsey Buckingham ever has.  And that’s not a put-down of the incredible Lindsey, just an indication how fucking great MIKE IS!

And the mix is fantastic.  So we can hear Benmont’s piano.

And Steve Ferrone shows his roots from AWB.  He’s playing tastefully, never too much, but just right.

And to have Ron Blair back in the band is such a hoot.  It gives us all hope that we can come full circle.

They’d been on the road for months.  They were in America’s most famous outdoor venue.  They were in front of family and friends.  They needed to DELIVER!

And boy did they.  Not by overdoing it, not by amping it up, but by doing what they do best, just playing.

I saw Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers back in ’77.  At the Whisky.  Pretty spectacular.  I’ve seen him at the Fabulous Forum.  But this was the best I’ve ever seen the band.  Like great wine, they’d aged, they were seasoned.  The greats get better, not worse.  Only in this fucked up business are you supposed to emerge fully-formed and then thrown on the scrapheap shortly thereafter.  Being an artist is a process.  You’re foraging in the wilderness, finding your way.  Learning and getting better along the way.

I could get into the nitty-gritty, but I’ll make it simple.  You know those gigs where you jump to your feet when the band takes the stage, you feel the adrenaline and just can’t help but rise up?  And you know every word and you’re amongst 18,000 and you feel the community but are somehow alone, marinating in your memories?  And you sing into the sky, as if communicating with God?  And you tingle, because you feel so good, so fucking alive?

IT WAS LIKE THAT!

HEIGHTY HI

Muddy Waters played "What Now America".

The music business mantra is repetition.  People have to hear it enough to love it, you’ve got to beat it into their brains.  Then there are tracks you hear once and you can’t forget them, and need to hear them again to save your soul.  That’s how I felt about "What Now America".  I borrowed the album from Muddy, who’d already achieved this moniker even though freshman year had just begun.  I’d drop the needle and listen to "What Now America" again and again.  The intimacy was like a late night phone call from your best friend, when people were more interested in exchanging stories, making a personal connection, than making money.

The next time I was in the metropolis, I bought "Barrel".  And then "Recital".  And "Lee Michaels".  I was reveling in the entire catalog of this guy who’d never had a hit, but was suddenly a giant in my world.

"The War" on "Recital" was as good as "What Now America".  There was that same intimate feeling.  But "Heighty Hi" was something completely different, like we’d all had too many beers, were a bit woozy and the band got up on stage and started to play.

And that’s exactly what the Dukes Of September’s rendition of Lee Michaels’ classic last night was like.

It’s great enough when a band reaches down deep and plays a cover of a song that only you thought you loved, but when they knock it out of the park you feel this inner spark, this elation that’s the essence of life.

DON’T MESS UP A GOOD THING

The classic rock artists raped and pillaged in the seventies, went on tour in the nineties and early twentieth century at exorbitant prices for boomer listeners who wanted to relive their youth, now what?

It’s creepy to see the oldsters trot out the warhorses one more time.  It’s like being sentenced to an endless "Groundhog Day".  Like being in college forever.  At some point, you want to graduate and get on with your life.

But this is illegal in the rock world.  You can’t take a risk, your audience can’t handle it.  You can’t even age.  You’ve got to get plastic surgery and diet down to look like a twentysomething when the audience is now round and lined and nothing like you.  It’s like a living "Sunset Boulevard".  And now the audience has moved on.  They’ve seen the Stones.  They’ve heard the hits.  They want something new.

The Dukes Of September is something new by people who are old.

It’s Michael McDonald, Boz Scaggs and Donald Fagen fronting nine associated players in a motherfucking soul band.  It’s like famous artists came to your wedding or Bar Mitzvah.  Sure, they’ll play a few hits, but you want to hear your favorites, you want to rock out, you want to have a good time, you want to have a party.

RAG MAMA RAG

Hail stones beatin’ on the roof
The bourbon is a hundred proof

Well, it wasn’t exactly hail, but the chain lightning had dumped a copious number of raindrops upon the assembled multitude, but eventually stopped. No one left.  We endured the elements to hear this classic Band tune along with "The Shape I’m In".

Michael McDonald is tinkling the ivories, everybody’s in a race, trying not to be left behind.

It was pure joy, out in the audience tinkling our air pianos.  Robbie Robertson may have retired, but that doesn’t mean the music has to die.  These songs can come alive, if someone just dedicates themselves, puts in the energy.

CADILLAC WALK

O.K., we all know the Band, but how many in the audience have even heard of Mink DeVille, never mind this nugget?

Actually, you’d be surprised how many in the audience would know the now deceased king of cool.  But I bet many in attendance thought this was a Boz Scaggs original, because he owned it.

REELIN’ IN THE YEARS

Okay.

Michael McDonald is the prematurely grey, now white-haired singer of MOR songs that made the girls swoon.

All of that may be true, but he’s also a MUSICIAN!  He was a reluctant frontman.  He started out as a sideman.  Last night he played not only the keys, but the ukulele.  He reminded you of that kid in high school, who lived to play music.  He was never the singer, but every band you went to see, he was in. Sometimes playing lead, other times the bass, even the drums, adding perfect backup vocals.

Yes, Michael sang "What A Fool Believes".  But I was even more thrilled that he did "I Keep Forgettin’"…  That came out just when I’d broken up with my live-in girlfriend, I kept forgettin’ that we weren’t in love anymore, except that we were, we just couldn’t live together, I listened to the tunes to get me through.

But the killer, the piece de resistance, was "Takin’ It To The Streets".

Michael had now been fully integrated into the Doobie Brothers.  But this was a transitional album, "Minute By Minute" was still years away.  But suddenly, this aged audience was on its feet, shaking its collective fist at a country that seems to have broken free of its grasp.  Yes, as we seem to near the apocalypse, only music will keep us sane.

Boz seemed like he didn’t want to be there, like he was punching the clock.  John Herington was playing most of the leads.  Boz wasn’t shucking and jiving.  But when he stepped up to the microphone, I swooned.  That voice!  Those notes he picked!  He’s got style, he’s got feel!  Sure, he eventually played "Lowdown", he subtly stole the night, but what stunned me was I’d given up on seeing him, I’d been there and done that, this one appearance reinvigorated my interest in him.

And then we come to Donald Fagen.

He was having fun.  He didn’t say much, but when he did he questioned our sensibilities.  He waited for silence, then turned to the audience and asked "What’s new?"  As if he was an old college buddy and wanted to catch up.  After we laughed, he said he heard it had been hot.  Which elicited further laughter that only an Angeleno who’s been in town this week can understand.

"I.G.Y" was a triumph.  But "Reelin’ In The Years" made us smile, recalling who we once were, and who we now are.

But what impressed me most was Donald’s elation.  At one point he was pounding the keys and he had his feet in the air under the piano like a six year old.  I know, I’ve been there, I’ve done that.

That’s what’s great about music.  When done right, you can throw off all convention, be the child basking in purity, having fun.

LOVE TRAIN

But it was the covers that made the night.

I bet almost no one in attendance owned an O’Jays album.  But we all know "Love Train".  Because back before every car had an FM radio, never mind an iPod input, we were exposed to all kinds of music on the AM dial that we came to love.

And to hear this powerhouse unit perform "Love Train" was to experience a cannonball express.  A train asks no questions, it has no doubts, it pulls out of the station, gains momentum and just HUMS!

HELP ME RHONDA

There were music stands everywhere.  After all, most of these tracks were not part of the performers’ usual repertoire.

But in an age where acts use teleprompters to sing THEIR OWN songs, Boz Scaggs strode up to the mic and sang "Help Me Rhonda" by heart.

Just like us.

It was not like seeing Mike Love or Brian Wilson.  This was not nostalgia, this was like going to the high school dance, except the band was really damn good.

THEM CHANGES

I found out about this tour from a reader.  How fucked up is that?

There’s no Website, no big hype, it’s a secret.  And that’s a mistake.

This is the future.  Unless you’re planning to die young, you just can’t repeat what you’ve done in your heyday forever, you’ve got to grow.  Isn’t that what Dylan taught us?

Michael McDonald can play to dwindling audience, same with Boz, Fagen can reunite with Walter Becker and overcharge to hear live renditions of some of the most exquisite recordings ever, but demand is not going to increase.  We’ve been there and done that, those of us who care anyway.  But the Dukes Of September is something completely different!  This is like Jimmy Buffett.  Something to come back to every summer.

No one left early.  Everybody had a good time.  Based on my e-mail from others in attendance, everyone was lifted up, everyone felt they’d experienced something that normally eludes them, a celebration of the power of music, our music.

Every week they should release a live cover on iTunes.  Not because the tracks would sell, but because the story would be big and it might reach the audience.  The group should continue to work regularly, like the Allman Brothers, honing their chops, mesmerizing audiences to where they come back like sheep, like lemmings, where they don’t think about it, they just go to the show.

It was impossible to be at the Greek last night and shrug your shoulders and be unimpressed.  You nodded your head, you shook your booty, and eventually stood up and clapped and sang, you couldn’t help yourself, the sound was just that powerful.

SOMETHING IN THE AIR

Call out the instigators
Because there’s something in the air

Now most people know Thunderclap Newman’s "Something In The Air" because of its inclusion in "Almost Famous", because of Tom Petty’s cover.  But once upon a time, in the spring of 1970, it was a record that got occasional play on FM radio.  Very occasional.  One listen was enough to hook you.

And on the very first weekend of my college career, on Saturday night they bused us all up to Middlebury’s Bread Loaf campus for a dance, where we could mix and mingle with the other freshmen.

How depressing.  The music is blaring.  You barely know anybody, you’re desirous of knowing everybody, but you just can’t achieve this.

There was a cover band from Boston.  Going through the motions for an unappreciative audience.

Suddenly, they broke into "Something In The Air".

Literally seems like yesterday that I went up to the soundman and asked him who did the original.  In the ensuing discussion he gave me the headphones, so I could hear the mix.

On the bus back I did my best to connect with a woman who I wasn’t that interested in but who was even less interested in me.

And there you have my college career.  Unsatisfying female encounters and a lot of music.

I bought Thunderclap Newman’s "Hollywood Dream" on the first college break.  I downloaded it from Napster.  It’s not famous because of its sales, but because of its music.  And when the Dukes Of September broke into their rendition of "Something In The Air" I was completely surprised.  Shouldn’t they be doing something less obvious, that they can own?  No!  Because they weren’t interested in demonstrating how hip they were, but playing some of their absolute favorites, figuring they were some of our absolute favorites too.

Lock up the streets and houses
Because there’s something in the air
We’ve got to get together sooner or later
Because the revolution’s here, and you know it’s right
And you know that it’s right

We stopped a war.  They say music can’t change the world?  They’re wrong.

But now we go to Vietnam as tourists.  The war is a deep memory.  But the music lives on.

We experienced a revolution.  When the most important thing you could do, the most dangerous path you could follow, was to be a musician.

Players were not in bed with Fortune 500 companies, corporations couldn’t take the risk.  And first and foremost, the artists needed to be unfettered, they needed to do it their way.  The record labels signed ’em and then got out of the way.  And these acts were so good, we still want to see them decades on.

It’s a symbiotic relationship.  A star is nothing without his fans.  And we fans need something to invest our hopes and dreams in.

We’ve lived long enough to know our heroes are only human.

But somehow, the music is not.  The music is godlike.  Created in fits of passion, moments of genius, the music both embodies humanity and transcends it.  Not made to be consumed and then disposed of, these great songs radiate forever.  Michael, Boz and Donald created some of them.  But, just like us, they’re fans of so many they didn’t.  Music is not a contest, the people creating competition TV shows, giving out awards, are not the players.  Artists are brothers.  In it together.  They want to revel in the greatness of each other’s work.  They want to live inside the music, they want that high only music can provide.

And so do we.