I had a fascinating conversation with Don Was last night.

Exiting February’s Grammy tribute to Neil Diamond, we got into a conversation about the new Delbert McClinton record Don was producing.  He was flying to Nashville imminently.  It was supposed to be remakes of Delbert’s classic songs.  I told Don he had to do "Sandy Beaches".  I ended up e-mailing Don the cut, which was so famous in his catalog, Delbert wasn’t sure if he wanted to remake it.

So seeing Mr. Was after Taj Mahal’s opening set at the Greek last night, I asked him how it went.  Don told me the record had just come out.  I had no clue.  Which we both laughed about, that in this crazy, fucked up world if even I, a fan, didn’t know the record was out, what chance did any new album have?

Then, waxing rhapsodically, Don told me he’d done a record in two days.  Another in a week.  One for $1500.  Another for $9000.  The extra $200,000?  That would have just squeezed all the life out of it, polished it into oblivion.  Don was very excited about music, even in these confusing times.  He said we were in the midst of a revolution.

And what a revolution it is.  Wherein, like a Firesign Theatre record, everything we know is wrong.

We need the fat cat with all the dough to polish our product.  The company must take the lion’s share of the money. They’re entitled to it!

Speaking with Bonnie after the show, we were marveling at all the opportunities.  She’s out of contract, she can follow her will.  Although now it’s confusing, overwhelming, being on the road, dealing with untold details, it’s oppressive to think of doing even more work forty years in.  But I told Bonnie she has a luxury, she’s one of a kind.  A combination folk singer/blues mama who plays a mean slide guitar and won all those Grammys.  If you’ve got that kind of profile, you can blaze trails.  Kind of like the Eagles did with Wal-Mart.  Not that Bonnie would make a deal with the Bentonville retailer, but the opportunities are endless.  What company wouldn’t want to piggyback on her fame, get instant access to her fans?  I’m not talking about selling out, about saying the company’s products are great.  It’s kind of like signage in the Staples Center.  Even Neil Young doesn’t demand you remove the ads.  He’s doing no direct endorsement, those ads are paying the bills of those ultimately paying him.  A subtle difference, I know, but one the consumer understands.

And speaking of consumers…

Last night’s audience was totally different from the one at the Wiltern the night before.  They were actually watching the show with their own eyes!  I saw no iPhones photographing, only one camera recording.  You could say these baby boomers are over the hill, behind the technological curve, but even more important, they grew up on music, music is in their blood.  They go to shows like lemmings to…  You may not be able to get them to see the latest blockbuster with explosions on the big screen, or anybody new in concert, but they’ll go see their old faves.  You’d think just to relive the past.  But, stunningly, that’s not what happened last night.

Taj Mahal had those records on Columbia.  His rendition of "Take A Giant Step" was exquisite.  Even Ry Cooder played with him.  But Taj never broke through.  How many of these people in attendance last night who’d had babies in the nick of time knew his material?  Few.  But that didn’t prevent Taj from getting them on their feet, dancing and swaying to the music.

You see with the oldsters, it’s not about spectacle.  It’s about the tunes, the vibe.

And when Bonnie ultimately hit the stage and gave them something to talk about, they jumped to their feet, fully alive in their Dockers and white hair.  This was not nostalgia, this was life.

Give credit to Bonnie for doing something new.  The  BonTaj Roulet is not just another tour, where she plays her greatest hits after an opening act.  The acoustic segment, the interlude in her own performance, was jaw-dropping.  As she and Taj worked out on old blues numbers.

Bonnie’s redefining the nineties paradigm for an older, aging set.  The BonTaj Roulet is Lilith or H.O.R.D.E. for baby boomers.  And with a long history of supporting blues legends, of introducing her audience to writers and players they might not know, Bonnie is on to something.

Even Rena remarked how everybody was on their feet.  And she sees every show, she runs the place.  She said it was akin to DMB the night before.  But, the DMB audience still has its knees, still has its career optimism.   Yes, last night everybody was standing.  Not by rote, but inspired by the music.

I’m a longstanding Bonnie Raitt fan.  But I’m still at the fair.  Because she includes us.  Tells us stories, reveals some personal truth, whether it be about hooking up with her honey in a few days or referencing the death of her brother. We’re looking for this humanity, our lives have rough edges, in a world that appears pristine, that is only concerned with winners.

"Nick Of Time" is now a marker.  Of that time two decades ago when we finally confronted our age.  That it was now or never.  Kids, new career…  Some of us bit the bullet, others have regrets, disappointments.  How does one deal with loss, how does one deal with a complicated reality?  By going to the show!

In an era where anyone over twenty five is peddling nostalgia, where it’s believed that the young own new music, it was heartening to reconnect with the paradigm that once was.  An endless blue skyway, where the music took you on a journey, surprised you and elated you.

Risks pay dividends.  Turns out the audience is much more open to change, surprise than you realize.  But you’ve got to have their trust.  That takes time.  But Bonnie’s got forty years invested.  Of never selling out, of never doing what’s expedient, of speaking her mind, defending her causes.  Short term thinking not only killed our financial system, but our music world too.  You’ve got to be in it for the long haul, you’ve got to have staying power.  Bonnie Raitt is built to last.

BonTaj Roulet

Courtney Love may be insane, but whether she signed the contract or not, I’m sure there was no agreement that Kurt could sing "You Give Love A Bad Name".  Bon Jovi is everything Kurt stood against.  "Smells Like Teen Spirit" killed hair metal, now you’ve got him singing this pop tripe in a video game?

You might say it’s only a video game, but that’s disrespectful.  We must honor our heroes.  And you may not care, but Kurt Cobain is still a hero to millions, the icon of a generation.  Why not have an animatronic JFK spewing Richard Nixon lines?

Activision should destroy each and every copy of Guitar Hero 5.  And only release it when this footage/game play has been eviscerated.

This is a crime against the history of rock and roll.  What were they thinking?

Rust never sleeps and commerce is always ready to dishonor the past.

If they don’t destroy and redo, we should boycott their profitmaking, gluttonous product.

Money might change everything, but it doesn’t EXPLAIN everything!

Someone gives Love a bad name (Hint: Courtney)

No casual fans were in attendance.  Because you couldn’t get a ticket.  And why would you want to?

At the juncture of art and commerce, for one slim moment in the nineties, an act playing less than mainstream music could make a video so riveting, enhancing the underlying sounds, that MTV could air it and a career could be jettisoned from nowhere into the stratosphere.

This was prior to Facebook, BlackBerry Messenger.  There were pockets of fans, but MTV blew Nine Inch Nails up. And then Trent and his roving band of backup musicians blew people’s minds.  Most notably at a Woodstock reunion, where turf was thrown and there was a palpable excitement not seen since the sixties.  This was a scene.  Which David Letterman wanted a part of.  But Nine Inch Nails never did do his show.  Why?  Dave could look hip, but what would it do for the band?  Who’d already reached many more people than they’d originally anticipated.  Who would seem positively small on television.  Whereas their music was so big!

You wouldn’t drop the needle on a NIN album at a party, certainly not a club, unless it was inhabited by misfits, who felt the mainstream had rejected them.  But now, the mainstream barely exists.  Instead of being an outsider, Trent Reznor is a leader, a beacon, telling all in attendance, all paying attention, to do it your own way.

Imagine being in a relationship where you never had to compromise, where you were loved for the way you are.  A job where you could tell off the boss.  This world doesn’t exist, except in art.  That’s the privilege of the artist, an ability to create in his own exact vision.  A charge which Trent Reznor embodies, blazing a path in his own unique direction, willing to make mistakes along the way, worried not a whit what some overlord might think.

And what results is music made for few.  But these few, they adore him.  For expressing all their frustration, for being who they want to be, uncompromised.

Just before the houselights went down, Tony Hawk came over to say hi to Jim.  Guerinot told me he’d learned tons from working with the skateboard king.  In the music business we sucked at the tit of the label, we were beholden to the company to both make us and direct us.  Whereas Tony had had to cobble it together himself.  Take chances. Tony was what the music business became.  Sure, he ultimately got lucky with his video game, but its success was not foreseen.  Tony’s an artist, not only on four wheels, but in business, willing to take chances, to do it a different way, only by taking risks can you get a surprising result.

The audience was not pretty.  These were not scenesters.  I saw so much black, you’d think we were at a wake. Which, on one hand, we were, the final NIN performance.  But so many of these people believe they’re at a permanent wake, that the odds are stacked against them, they look to the music for a release.

And there was tons of music.  Three encores and thirty nine songs.

Things started to heat up twelve numbers in.  When Mike Garson took the stage.

Shouldn’t it have been Benmont Tench?  No, diss to Mr. Heartbreaker, but when you’re in Los Angeles, your special guests are Hollywood stars, not an avant garde pianist whose one fling with the mainstream was thirty odd years ago on David Bowie’s "Aladdin Sane".

But Mike added a new element.  Prior to this, the music had been an assault.  Suddenly, it had texture, mood.

Then came Gary Numan.  Yup, the guy with the slick ‘do who sang "Cars".  But although a novelty on MTV, a one hit wonder, Mr. Numan was not in it for the fame, but the sound.  Trent considers him to be a progenitor.  Gary, looking little less for wear, not having gone under the surgeon’s knife, but having been hermetically sealed in a basement, continuing to play music, stood at the mic with authority and dealt out the lyrics.  Then tapped on a keyboard at the front of the stage.  In this world, Les Pauls and synthesizers co-exist.

Encore one featured Atticus Ross and Dave Navarro.

Encore two was performed with the Dillinger Escape Plan.  An act I’d never heard of, but I’ll never forget.  A complete band, a NIN doppelganger, who took the stage with such energy that you could feel it blasting in your face.  The drummer pounded, then they kicked around his big bass drum, threw it in the air.  The guitarist twirled his guitar around his body, again and again.  And the lead singer jumped into the audience.  Rick Mueller said it was the most exciting act he’d seen all year, Jim said he wanted to see them again.  All I’ll say is they got my attention!

The final six song encore was more melodic.  It’s like after beating you in the head, taking you on an aural mystery tour, Trent wanted to soothe you, let you know it was going to be all right, that he’d be back.

And he will.  Or so he said.

So, I believe you’ll get another chance to experience mindblowing staging.  Supposedly stripped down, the flashing lights, the strobes, created an otherworldly atmosphere.  Like the sixties, but even darker.  Like the survivors of Altamont regrouped and started making their own music.

Will you get another chance to hear this band?  The drummer who never let up, who pounded like Keith Moon, albeit harder and slower?  Robin Finck?  The bass player who could manipulate a double acoustic in addition to his electric?

I’m not sure.  But whatever concoction he comes up with, we’ll be interested.  Because Trent Reznor is a true artist. Testing limits, doing it his way.  Watching him perform, all the executives got small, retreated in the distance.  Although singular, not leading any mass charge, Trent is doing it for us.  Illustrating that you can do it your way and not only survive, but thrive.  I’m not telling you to buy an album, download a track.  I’m just saying when you watch acts develop in the future and wonder where they got their ideas, look to people like Trent Reznor and Radiohead.  It’s not about making music that sounds like theirs, but coming from the same place.  That the art is king.  And that NO ONE is going to tell them what to do!

‘You know what, Jimmy? Fuck you. Take that beat and shove it up Timbaland’s ass.’

You don’t talk to Jimmy Iovine that way!

What kind of crazy, fucked up world do we live in where the pop stars are the goody-goodies, the ass-kissers who made our eyes roll in high school as they obeyed all the rules and respected their elders.  It’s like Eddie Haskell has come back to haunt us!  You don’t want to piss off the big bad record company, your career will be ruined!

Or will it?

I’ve met some of the rock stars of yore, and they’re not like you and me.  They don’t believe in rules.  And they don’t take orders.  They do it their way.  With contempt for society, the norm, what everybody says they should do.

I mean if you’re working all day on the assembly line, do you really want to go see someone who tells you to never miss a day at the plant and to never talk back to your boss?  Is this the release you desire?

Or you’ve got Lady GaGa, who thinks rock and roll is a fashion show.  When done right, it doesn’t matter what you wear on stage, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta.  The music speaks for you.

But the music hasn’t come first, we haven’t had a rule-breaker since Kurt Cobain.  Sure, Kurt had a way with a melody, but the reason he became an icon and still is was his refusal to play it any way but his own.  To call out posers.  To have no tolerance for b.s.  Hey GaGa!  Why don’t you check out the sweater Kurt wore on MTV "Unplugged"!  With enough talent, you can dress like a nerd!

Kurt complained of being abused in school.  Of getting no respect.  He was everything we wanted to be.  Honest.  And rich.

Now the focus is only on rich.  Used to be you used your talent to get to the bucks.  Now, talent is a diversion, the machine will provide that for you.  We’ve got songwriters and producers, stylists, we can turn you into someone…just like everyone else.  A two-dimensional character made for the brain dead medium known as terrestrial radio.  Once upon a time we respected radio, lived to listen.  Imagine that!

Used to be you told the label head which way the wind blew.  Didn’t allow any input into your music.  Hell, does the exec know how to play? And, if you fucked with the President enough, he might blackball you and harm your career, but those days are through.  Now you can be completely independent, not beholden to anyone.  Free to sell your CD at Target.  Huh?

Explain it to me all day Eddie Vedder, but I just see it as expedient.  Sure, you’re allowing the indie stores to play, but this has got nothing to do with the future, not even the present, but the past.  Fans want the music instantly, online, now.  Trent Reznor gives it away and you tie in with a retailer that focuses on fashion?

We respect outlaws.  Not faux characters in scripts, like Sacha Baron Cohen sitting on Eminem’s lap at the MTV Movie Awards.  And if you’re watching the VMAs for anything but shits and giggles, if you think that show has anything to do with music, you don’t know how hard you’ve got to kiss the butt of the MTV team to get on.  What a marketing opportunity!  Who can resist the exposure!

Trent called out Chris Cornell on Twitter, for his atrocious record with Timbaland.

If Peter Frampton can kill his career overnight, with one record made for the theoretical masses, doesn’t that prove anybody can do it?  Hell, while we’re at it, blame the stylist for Billy Squier.  Heroic rocker, blue collar king, dresses in pink and is never heard from again.

It’s truly a new era.  The government might tell us to meet the new boss, same as the old boss, that Goldman Sachs can still rule, but do we have to continue to respect all the entertainment wankers who think they’re more talented than the creators they oversee?

Music used to be the foremost exponent of creativity.  Because it was the cheapest to make and the easiest to distribute.  But now music is moribund, even less hip than TV, singles are massaged, marketing campaigns are designed like a World War III invasion…  We’ve only got one chance, we can’t blow it!  How about putting out great music, that sells itself, for a long time?  Believe me, an artist puts out something good and word will get out on the Internet, the same way everyone learned that Lenny Kravitz’s last opuses were crap and he’s been forced to tour "Let Love Rule" in clubs on the album’s twentieth anniversary to pay his bills.

Do we really have to fear Jimmy Iovine?  Doug Morris?  Lyor Cohen?  Do they really get to be the final arbiters of taste?

Oh, don’t give me shit, I’m just a constant warning to take the other direction, to think for yourself, like all my heroes from the past.

They’re not making anymore heroes.  Just product.  And that’s sad.

You’ve got the tools to do it your way.  So don’t complain, take the road less-traveled, experiment, demonstrate your greatness.  Your hands are not tied, dazzle us!

Full "New Yorker" quote:

"By the early aughts, Reznor had grown frustrated with the way Nine Inch Nails records were being released and promoted by his label, Interscope Records. ‘The Internet has decimated their business, and they still don’t know how instant messaging works,’ he told me. He was also depressed by the pressure from the label’s head, Jimmy Iovine, to make his records more ‘urban.’ As Reznor saw it, ‘This is simply, How do we smooth off all the rough edges and make you just like what’s selling now?’ Iovine commissioned a number of hip-hop remixes of Nine Inch Nails songs, all of which Reznor rejected, and Reznor soon ended the relationship. ‘You know what, Jimmy? Fuck you. Take that beat and shove it up Timbaland’s ass.’"

High Fidelity

Read about Trent and Chris Cornell and Jimmy here:

Mr. Self-Destruct