Sometimes you remember who you are.

I’m here in the Poconos.  Actually, I have no idea where I am.  I got off the plane at Kennedy and I ended up here.  Where here is?  An hour from Camelback, that’s what the desk clerk said.  I thought we’d be closer to Pennsylvania’s largest ski resort.  Then again, walking the grounds of Woodloch this morning, I saw snow.  I was on the phone with Felice, trying to describe my surroundings to someone who grew up in California, how I was in the mountains, but they weren’t really mountains, and she asked me if I could see snow.  I told her I couldn’t see a thing.  That I was standing on a dock in the middle of a lake and all I could see were my immediate surroundings.  Then, what I thought was sand by the water’s edge turned out to be snow.  I guess that’s when it hit me, I’d been here before.  Not in the mountains of Pennsylvania, but the east coast in April.

I loved to play baseball.  I lived to play baseball.  After school every day I’d walk home, change into my play clothes and walk back to the schoolyard for the game.  Which began as soon as enough kids showed up.  Oh, we’d hold a little batting practice, but when we had ten people we’d choose up sides and play, adding players as they arrived.

This almost never happened in March.  It usually started in April.  And as I got older, and better, Little League tryouts started then, the very first week of April.  When the season magically changed from winter to spring.  Oh, sometimes there’d be a flashback, a wicked rainstorm with temperatures in the thirties, but it wouldn’t last, spring would come back.  Then again, spring wasn’t always so warm.  I’d wear a windbreaker under my sweatshirt, when I hit the ball my hands would sting, and oftentimes keep stinging, even though I was now in the outfield.

Adam Goldberg was sitting in front of me on the plane.  God, I loved him in "Relativity".  He’s a great actor.  Live long enough in Los Angeles and you don’t speak with famous people, unless spoken to.  You respect their privacy.  But growing up in Connecticut, I never met a famous person.  And now I was going back to my distant homeland.

But the limo driver turned towards the George Washington Bridge rather than the Connecticut Turnpike.  We passed not only Shea, but Yankee Stadium.  And then we were in the wilds of New Jersey.

Well, I didn’t expect it to be quite this wild.  I mean when I looked up from my BlackBerry I saw stoplights!  Oh, I hadn’t been paying attention.  It was dark, and rainy.  But if it was 145 miles, and we’d only been in the car for ninety minutes, shouldn’t we be on the freeway?

The only reason I knew we were still in New Jersey was that the gas station was full-serve.  And when I reentered the Town Car with some beef jerky to tide me over for the rest of the ride, I asked the driver, Tony, where were we?

He’d taken a shortcut!  He was saving twenty miles!  He was so proud of himself, following the Garmin GPS atop the dash.

Then, suddenly, the road was turnier than the one I grew up on.  And Tony was looking in the rearview mirror.  He was uptight about the car behind him.  He remarked that he was worried he was following us.  So, he pulled over, and turned around.  Right in the middle of the street.

On what kind of highway can you pull a u-turn?

And then the road we switched to, was akin to a driveway.

I got uptight.  I retrieved my BlackBerry from my pocket.  I had no access.  I’m not talking Web-access, or e-mail access, I had no phone access!  And with Verizon, you always have access!

I got uptight.  Was this a hit?

I know, I know, I was being paranoid.  But it was like that episode of the "Sopranos" with the Russian in the snow.  The road was going up and down like a roller coaster.  We were barely moving…

Then Tony asked me if I had a cell phone.

This was a bad sign.  Did he have to pay for gas?  Had he gotten enough?  Was he worried about being stranded in the middle of the night?  I mean you’re oh-so-confident, some dude you’ve never met in New York books a limo and you don’t think twice.  Should you?

Tony was proud to be in America.  He was going to open a restaurant.  But he’d embraced the American mind-set a little too much.  I want the President to make choices.  I want the CEO to be innovative.  I don’t want my limo driver taking the reins, becoming an entrepreneur, just follow the fucking route!

Then, suddenly, we were there.  Oh, we’d crossed over to Pennsylvania, we were no longer on Bruce’s Jersey backstreets.  But there was no town, no plethora of lights, no civilization!

And the desk clerks, although friendly…at this midnight hour the place had the feel of the Bates Motel.

But it’s not.  Woodloch is like the Catskills.  Except it survives.  And it doesn’t appear to be all Jews.  Actually, at lunch I was surrounded by the White Panthers.  I was the only soul younger than 75.

Not speaking at this conference until the evening, after lunch I stumbled around the grounds.  That’s when I found the snow.  And the miniature golf course.  And the horseshoe pit.  And the batting cage.

Do you pick up a bat?  Do you risk finding out your skills have departed?

I figured I had no choice.  I was taller than the 44" required.  I could wear the helmet the sign demanded. 

But when I’d committed in my brain, I found out you needed a buck, in quarters.  I had no quarters.  I escaped, mental reputation intact.

And that’s when I realized the ground I was walking on was not flat.  And that it still contained the moisture of winter.  And that not all the grass was green.

I thought of going to the Catskills with my family in the sixties.  Not the big resorts, but a place that’s no longer there.  My parents went to see "Psycho" in Monticello.  When the car sank, someone yelled out "The gelt!  The gelt!"

I thought of how far I’d traveled, how far I’d gone.  But I realized it was not far enough to lose my roots.  They’re still here, on the east coast.  Where everything’s older, where everything’s closer.  Where baseball is seasonal as opposed to a year-round road to riches.  Where sports are avocations as opposed to raison d’etres.  Where education and place in the community are paramount.

Do you move back?

Never.

Then again, maybe.  Maybe you have to.

Woodloch Resort

Just tell them BORIS SENT YOU!

It had a white label.  At least that’s how I remember it.

My mother bought our earliest 45s.  She got a kick out of "Big Girls Don’t Cry", "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Yellow Polka Dot Bikini" and "Purple People Eater".  But I bought "Loco-Motion" and "Monster Mash".

It was before the Beatles.  But we were already addicted to radio.  I guess we found the stations when we twisted the dial looking for baseball games.

77 WABC was my station.  Oh, the hipper kids listened to 1010 WINS.  And WMCA was a city thing.  But I was positively mainstream.  It feels good to be a member of the group.  And on some level, I truly believed Bruce Morrow was my cousin.  And I was buddies with Dan Ingram and Scott Muni too!

Buying a 45 wasn’t a casual thing.  You NEEDED IT!  One didn’t debate whether it had lasting value, whether you’d listen to it in two years, you needed it NOW!  It was an itch that needed to be scratched.

And when one got home from the store, one extracted that thirty cent piece of vinyl from its thin paper sleeve and dropped it onto a contraption that looked positively primitive.  Not a turntable, but a RECORD PLAYER!  With a heavy tonearm, upon which you’d place dimes, pennies, SOMETIMES EVEN QUARTERS, to prevent records from skipping.

And you wouldn’t listen from across the room, but close nearby.  Close enough that you could pick up the tonearm to listen to the record again.  And again.  And AGAIN!

Oh, eventually you gave the flip side a spin, but it was almost always crap.  But you didn’t care, because it was about the TRACK!

Why is "Monster Mash" such a great record?

Oh, there’s the lyrics, the Boris Karloff imitation, but what infatuates one, what keeps you coming back, is the GROOVE!

Written and cut almost instantly, "Monster Mash" is a masterpiece.  And will last longer than every Mariah Carey track ever cut.  It was a lark, not over-contemplated.  It’s got the genius of the early sixties in the grooves.  When it wasn’t for tomorrow, but just today.

Bobby "Boris" Pickett might be gone, but his record will live on.

Funny, if you contemplate legendary status, you don’t achieve it.  It’s only when you throw off restraint, do what feels good unrestricted, when pure inspiration is allowed to flourish, that you create something that reverberates forever.

I’m listening to "Monster Mash" right now.  Over and over again, just like back in ’62.  When I’d just entered the fifth grade.  When I took the single to Keith’s house, and listened to it over and over while lying on his floor with the radiant heat.  Funny how when you hear these records you’re not reminded of a time back when, you’re jetted instantly right back to those days, they COME ALIVE!

Excuse me while I resonate with who I used to be.  A boy whose life was changed when he heard a sound…

From: Khalid Nurredin
Subject: In Case You Didn’t Know!

Bob,
 
This is how Tila Tequila and a lot of other people with huge amounts of friends got them on Myspace. He promises 100,000 views and listens for $1500.00. If a group or artist has a large enough budget, he gets them 100,000 sets of eyeballs every month,with most becoming a friend. This explains why Tila has almost 2 million friends, but only moved 13,000 singles on Itunes. Most acts use companies like this to trick a major label into thinking they have a large fan base, but miniscule sales always are a result. There are others like him, but he’s considered to be the best. Anybody with the cash can get a lot of "friends" but it doesn’t mean squat if the quality of the music isn’t there. So the next time you visit a page, you have to wonder are these really fans or were they just bought? Somebody with some deep pockets is backing Tila, but they forgot about good songs sung well. I don’t know if this strategy will work for someone who is truly talented. We’ll just have to wait and see. I wonder if the majors are doing the same thing? I heard a rumour that J records did this with Paula Deanda, but I have no proof, and her sales are about as bad as Tila’s with all that money from BMG.
 
Peace,
 
Khalid

My Social Marketing
 

From: Mark Hinkley

Last night I was at a soccer game and they were playing a Toronto-based band called BTK’s (and rap-rock ensemble) "big hit" called Peppyrock.  The problem with this is that I’ve heard the song more now that the band has completely vanished off of the musical landscape.  Their music has been featured in many a beer commercial.

A group called The Ernies (from VA, rock-ska with turntablism) which I first heard from the first Tony Hawk video game about 8 years ago, has received more radio play in the last 3 years than they did when they were signed to Mojo Records and released their sophmore disc "Meson Ray".  I’ve heard their clips in commercials for Ford trucks, trailers for The Hulk movie, and in bumpers for wrestling programming.

So my questions to you are : How is it a band gets dropped for not being marketable or making enough money, but magically become worth money long after they’re "dead"?  Also, what are the chances that these artists are seeing dime-one from any of this filler/muzak-esque airtime?

From: Rob Falk
Subject: Take a look at this Geffen Records deal!

Bob:

You’ve got to see this: Bratz

Click on the "Click Here" button and read the terms of the agreement. In exchange for having your songs listened to by "Top A&R execs at Geffen" you give Geffen the right to use your music, anywhere, for any purpose, forever!

You might also get a record deal, which appears to cut Geffen in on touring income.

Un-effin’-believable!

From: Noah Blackstein
Subject: True story

One month ago. My wife’s truck got broken into. The assholes stole my kids strollers and the car manual. They left 20 CD’s.

If you have not seen this yet, please do so promptly.  Fascinating.

Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip ‘Thou Shalt Always Kill’

Famous Toby Mamis

Shove this up your ass Bubble Boy.

What bugged me about Will Pugh’s e-mail is his denigration of a 200,000 member core audience.  He was worried without the bubble stunt his new CD might only sell 300,000 copies and his label would consider it a flop.  Shit, if Charlie Walk is your God, you know you’re in trouble.  Broadcasting, reaching the masses, those days are THROUGH!  Hey Will!  Norah Jones is the only one with a platinum record this year, good luck!

If Epic is too dumb to see that they’ve got to go niche, change their business model, does that mean Will Pugh, a seemingly honest, dedicated musician, should submerge his values and throw in with them?  Is that the only way?

Of course not.

Toby Mamis doesn’t send me links constantly.  And I know this guy.  That’s what friends do, hip you to good shit.  So I’ll check out what Toby has to say.  Whereas if I don’t know you, or you send me too much, or what you like sucks in my eyes, I ignore you.

I was positively stunned.

Oh, at first I thought it was a Jewish thing.  We Yids hang together.

But it’s not.

What did Robert Krulwich say on his TV show?  That rap is the music anybody can make?  I’m not going to debate that, for fear of e-mail abuse, but let’s just say I wouldn’t consider "Thou Shalt Always Kill" in the same league as the Beach Boys and the Beatles.  It’s less music, and more performance art.  Then again, there’s just as much creativity in this ditty as there was in "Revolution 9".

That’s what’s wrong with the major labels.  They only want what they can sell.  Something that’s creative, that’s outside, they just pass over.  But it’s this stuff that gets to our gut, it’s this stuff that makes us think, it’s this stuff we’re drawn to.

What possessed this guy to make this song/video?  And his delivery, it’s not rock star poised.  He doesn’t look like the guys on MTV.  He looks like you and me.  He MEANS IT!

But now, armed with a digital video camera and YouTube, he can REACH you and me.  He’s already got 339,126 views as I write this.  How many people does Will Pugh think WATCH MTV?  When music is playing in the afternoon?  A couple of hundred thousand AT BEST!  You can reach your core on YouTube, doing what YOU want, and maintain your credibility!

The only criterion for gaining viewers being that you’re good.

What is good?  Is it the ability to play well, is it the ability to write catchy songs?  All those count, but first and foremost, it’s the ability to STIMULATE people.  That’s why Jessica Simpson can’t sell a record.  The original hip-hop, before it delved into cars, money and ho’s, had a vibrancy, an honesty, absent from rock and roll that couldn’t be denied.  THAT’S why it was successful.  "Thou Shalt Always Kill" has got this same tuning fork characteristic.  You’ve thought about some of these subjects.  Others?  God, he’s right!

Why do you go to the bar?  Are you trying to get into a girl’s mind or pants, and which comes first?  And, if you’ve ever met any of these legendary musicians, you’re always stunned that they’re just people.  Oh, the art is great, but what makes the work truly transcendent is YOUR investment in it, what it means TO YOU!

That shit on MTV means nothing to you.

P2P, YouTube, they’re bringing back the essence of rock and roll, no matter what the music sounds like.  It’s about challenging convention, having no respect for authority.  I mean why give a shit what Charlie Walk or the gatekeepers at MTV and radio think ANYWAY?  That’s what fucks up the movie business.  So many collaborators, so many execs who think they’re the artists, telling the TRUE artists what to do.  In the seventies, we threw off the chains of this slavery in the music business.  How the artists became indentured servants again, confounds me.  But those days are through.

We saw the Beatles and we bought guitars.

Kids today are going to see this video, and will fire up GarageBand, and pick up digital video cameras, and create unfiltered stuff from deep inside that will resonate.  And listeners/viewers who are affected will spread the word.

You don’t need the old systems anymore.  If you’re playing along with the boys in suits, you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem, you’re laughable.

It’s a new golden era.

Is the pot of riches clearly discernible off on the horizon?  NO!  But the Beatles didn’t know they were going to become rich and worldly famous when they started out either.