Tune in Saturday August 12th to Faction Talk, channel 103, at 4 PM East, 1 PM West.

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Twitter: @lefsetz

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She had a white hot band.

The music business is still not completely up to speed post-covid. What I mean is there are not as many lunches, as many hangs, as there were pre-pandemic. Which means I’m still at home a bunch, and I don’t like it. Sure, I like to read my books and watch my shows, and unlike many I’m hearing from people all day long, but there’s nothing like being out and about.

Like last night at the Ford.

I went alone. I used to always go to the show alone. You know those who talk about shows being parties? That was never me. It’s always been about what’s on the stage and my communication with the music, setting my mind adrift, setting me free. It’s a religious experience. Related to listening to recordings, but different.

And I don’t want to drag someone to a show. I don’t want to feel responsible for anybody else. I don’t want my experience impaired. But if no one else will go, that won’t hold me back.

So…

As soon as I parked my car and got on the golf cart to take me up the hill, a feature at the Ford, I encountered people and my mood changed. After picking up my ticket and going through security and entering the building I got a feeling you can only get at a show, a feeling of anticipation and excitement. Not only is this why live will never die, but it’s also why live is burgeoning. In an era where so much is done inside, at home, it’s great to go outside, it refreshes your mood and inspires you. In the pre-internet era we were always out of the house, home was anathema, all the action was at the club, the movie theatre, the arena… But now people stay at home not only to stream TV, but to play video games, dedicate time to their devices, such that out is such a huge contrast. And no matter how many gigs you’ve been to, the feeling when you walk inside the building remains palpable, you’re never completely relaxed, you’re waiting, to be lifted off, jetted into the stratosphere.

Now it’s not like Lucinda Williams is unknown. But she’s never had a hit record, not even one, not one cut that everybody knows. She has been the beneficiary of a ton of press, but press means less than ever before. Used to be your PR person could get you in enough traditional publications to get the word out, so everybody was aware of you, but that’s impossible today. Even worse, the younger you are the less you even read/are exposed to mainstream publications. My name was mentioned three times in an article on ticketing in the “Los Angeles Times” last week and I only heard about it from one person, my sister. In the pre-internet era there would be a plethora of incoming. My point being if you get your name in the newspaper, if you’re on TV, enjoy it, because it almost never leads anywhere.

So…

Lucinda Williams recently released an autobiography and a new album, and that generated some of the aforementioned press, but in today’s world if you’re not a fan, you’re not interested. No one sits at home and says…that’s sounds interesting, I think I’ll go. Because there are so many events that are in your wheelhouse. The looky-loos stay away. Then again, there are cultural events, like the Taylor Swift tour, that incite FOMO, but for most shows this is not the case.

Now in the past century, in a much smaller music business, charts meant everything, you could quantify someone’s success. Despite there still being charts, today they’re notable for what they miss as opposed to what they include. In other words, the charts won’t tell you what is happening. Like the fact that Lucinda Williams has a hard core, dedicated fan base who will keep her career alive.

Now it’s important to know that Lucinda fandom is not casual. People find the lyrics speak to them. They’re devoted.

And almost all of them are oldsters. At least last night.

It was the opposite of TMZ, the opposite of Kardashian, the opposite of almost everything everybody tells us is important and dominates. I haven’t seen this much gray hair at a show in memory. And I’m not talking about the men so much as the women. They were not conforming to society’s beauty standards. And a lot of the men and women had imperfect bodies. But boy were they into the music. Like the people who came down the aisles to get closer. The guy who sidled up next to me was in his seventies, but he just needed to get closer to the sound, to the show, and he was not the only one.

And this is different from our parents. Our parents were not constantly going to see their heroes live. They might occasionally go to a popular music show in their later years, but if anything they went to hear the symphony, classical music. Their popular music was not classic, but ours is. They call it classic rock because it is. And it’s a sound and an attitude and…

You need it. Boomers go to shows on a regular basis. Sure, a lot of times to see older acts, but not always. Then again, so much of the modern music is rooted in the sounds of yore.

So…

Have you ever listened to “Get-Yer-Ya-Ya’s Out!”? This classic Stones album from 1970 is unlike today’s live albums. In that it’s rough, it’s a feeling as much as the sound, it’s not impenetrable, if anything it draws you deeper in, because it’s alive and breathing and…

If you got a bunch of teenagers in the venue last night you could have sold Fenders by the dozens on the way out. Because you wanted to be one of those guys on stage, playing. It looked like the height of living. It had nothing to do with money, but the happy expressions on their faces, the way they locked in together and squeezed out the notes, the way they played effortlessly.

Now if you’ve ever picked up a guitar you know it’s far from effortless, at least beyond a few chords. You’ve got to spend your time, pay your dues. The hurdle is pretty high. The rewards come deep in your career. And that’s too hard a lift for most today. Or they want to show off before they are ready. But these guys are seasoned and ready.

So…

You’ve probably heard that Lucinda Williams had a stroke. Based on the scuttlebutt, I thought she was doing better than she is. Sure, stairs can be dangerous territory for the most agile person, so I understood her slow movement down the steps, on the arm of a helper, but when she crossed the stage to the microphone tentatively…

I was reminded that she had more days behind her than in front of her. That this is the case with me and everybody in the audience. This is it, this is our time, pay attention, because it won’t be long before it’s over.

And Lucinda was performing this way. She was not punching the clock, this was not just another gig, this was more than that. The music used to be more than that. With Lucinda, it still is.

So…

The show began with “Let’s Get the Band Back Together,” and this was…

Well, like being hooked up to thousand watt electrodes. The audience was instantly energized, swinging, this is the sound that they grew up with, that’s in their DNA, this is rock and roll.

They say that rock is dead, but if you were at the Ford last night you’d think otherwise. And it wasn’t nostalgia, everybody was worse for wear but they were pushing forward.

I really can’t describe it, it’s something you feel. When the band lights up and so do you, when you can’t help but move, dance in your seat, even if instinctively you’re too uptight to dance in public, you just can’t help yourself.

It was inspiring, it was overwhelming. And I’ll be honest, I’m not the biggest Lucinda Williams fan, and I’d seen her before, but this was something different. She was the headliner, the venue was small, this was her audience, she damn rocked the place.

Now I’m not saying there were not quieter moments, but you sat there and felt like whatever you believed in, the sound of yore, the roots, back from the sixties and seventies, were still alive and blooming. There were no hard drives, no synths, it was what you used to do with your buddies in the garage, but on a professional level.

The bass player’s Precision was worn down around the edges, the finish was gone, that’s how long he’d been playing it.

And the drummer? He had a kit bigger than most touring musicians today. But what was really interesting was between songs he reached behind his seat and extracted a new Paiste and changed cymbals. I mean really, it made that much difference, he needed to put in the effort? Yes it did and he did.

And two lead guitarists, intertwining. Akin to the Stones when Mick Taylor was in the band. Like on “Ya-Ya’s.” And no one was showing off, no one was grimacing, squeezing out the note, they were just playing.

But it wouldn’t have mattered if not for Lucinda. Because sans songs you’ve got nothing.

And Lucinda does not come from the Moon/June school of songwriting. It’s personal, with attitude. She lived the rock and roll lifestyle. You know, the clubs, the drunken nights, the road less taken. Then again, we too used to go to the clubs on a regular basis, back when they still existed, when they had live music at the bar down the street.

But today everybody puts money first. And if they bother to go down the music path they want quick results, they don’t want to be lifers, they don’t want to sacrifice, they want brand extensions. But Lucinda Williams is not a brand, but a person, an artist, and it’s a big difference. She doesn’t stand for something, she is something!

Now if you were unfamiliar with the music you still would have gotten it. But if you were…

What a long strange trip it’s been, kids who were born after Jerry died pledging fealty to a Dead that’s been cast in amber, as opposed to the living, breathing ensemble that Garcia drove into the future. That’s right, as good as Dead and Company were, and they were excellent, it was nostalgia.

Lucinda Williams is not selling nostalgia. She’s still pushing the envelope.

But she’s not the only one. There are so many scenes out there garnering fans that get no big time attention. They are what’s keeping music alive.

So, last night was a triumph, for Lucinda, the audience and me. Yes, I got out into the world, I felt alive. And being a member of an audience, even though I spoke to not a single person, made me feel like I belonged, that other people were on my wavelength. And Lucinda Williams was the ringleader, with songs, stories and attitude. It was reverse charisma. She didn’t need to be a star, this was her job.

It was inspiring. She’s still here and so are we. And we won’t be forever, but we still want that hit, the live music, sans the trappings of dancing, even production. We want the sound, the feel, and we don’t want it to be exactly like it was before. And we want to feel like it’s being built from scratch every night, that everybody isn’t just going through the motions, that playing these songs is a coming together, a meshing, a living, breathing enterprise, all done without a net.

You see you don’t have to be two-dimensional to triumph. You don’t have to get plastic surgery and refuse to age. You don’t have to adopt a look and a persona. What we want most is three-dimensional, malleable human beings wrestling with the same questions we all are, but soldiering on, shedding light and inspiring us at the same time, helping ease our journey in this confusing life.

That’s what Lucinda Williams did last night.

Drummer for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, the Average White Band and more!

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/steve-ferrone/id1316200737?i=1000624030253

https://music.amazon.com/podcasts/9ff4fb19-54d4-41ae-ae7a-8a6f8d3dafa8/episodes/7659e352-ba93-4767-8f27-b49e1a2c23a8/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast-steve-ferrone

https://www.stitcher.com/show/the-bob-lefsetz-podcast/episode/steve-ferrone-306192292

And not everybody can make it.

My old friend Barney Kugel invited me to celebrate his 70th birthday at the Comedy Chateau in North Hollywood. After decades in the music business, and haunting the rock clubs after sacrificing his last industry job, Barney has shifted his focus to comedy, he says that’s where the action is. Furthermore, so many of the rock clubs he frequented closed during Covid and never reopened.

So of course I’m gonna go. Barney and his wife were very good to me after my wife moved out. We share history.

Now the Comedy Chateau would be considered a house on the east coast, not that anybody ever lived in it. But it’s got that feel, wooden beams, high ceiling…this is not unusual in Los Angeles. So, you get this homey feeling.

And there was a two-drink minimum. This is what they used to have at all the music clubs in the sixties and seventies. The admission fee only got them so far, they needed to pay the bills, and clubs have never been a good business.

So…

After sitting down and being greeted by Barney, he started introducing me to his friends. There was a whole scene. Akin to the rock scene of yore. But in this case no one was in their twenties. As a matter of fact, a lot of these people were in their fifties or even older. But there was a sense of belonging, I could see why this appealed to Barney.

And then the standup began.

It was Sunday night, New Faces night, i.e. amateur night.

There’s a long history of this in both music and comedy. One night when you sign up and you get to strut your stuff. And I expected everybody to be just that, an amateur, a new face, but this was not the case at all. Nobody was a newbie, everybody had done it before, much more than once, most had a relatively well-honed act, they did not look at their notes, they gave it their all for five minutes and then the red light came on…and most stretched another minute or two.

Meanwhile, Barney told me that there was a lot of politics involved. Just getting on the bill, never mind your placement. There was a host, a la Richard Belzer back in the days of Catch a Rising Star, not only introducing, but insulting, making jokes, keeping the night going.

And even though Barney and his minions ultimately left early, I stayed until the very end. First and foremost because of the lure of live entertainment, in a club you’re right there. So different from being at home in front of the flat screen. And second because I was fascinated by the talent, the experience, what was going on.

Lenny Clarke was the king of Boston comedy. Hosted an evening of comedy. And he got a representative from “The Tonight Show” to come one evening. This was his big chance. As well as that of the rest of his buddies, they’d been doing this for years, their acts were honed, they were on the way to the big time.

But the “Tonight Show” man was only interested in one person, almost a newbie, he ignored Lenny and his friends, he was only interested in Steven Wright.

Steven Wright? That guy just started, he hadn’t paid his dues, he was not one of the kingpins, this was patently unfair.

But Wright went to the west coast, was on “The Tonight Show” and became an instant star, in the mid-eighties, before the comedy boom really took hold.

You may be aware of Steven Wright. You may even know some of his jokes by heart. I certainly do, I employ them on a regular basis. I don’t steal them, I credit Wright, because the insight is so good and the jokes so bizarre…

My favorite is the night Wright came home and put his key into the front door and his house started up. And since it was going, he decided to take it around the block for a spin. And he’s stopped by a cop, who asks Steven where he lives, and Wright says “Right here.”

And then the one liner, saying “It’s a small world, but I wouldn’t want to have to paint it.”

I can watch an entire one hour comedy special and not remember a single joke. But these from Steven Wright, are embedded in my brain.

So…

Sunday night there were about fifteen comics. One said she went on the road, Barney could not confirm this, and it was hard to believe. And another was a special guest in from Vegas, and I’m not sure exactly what that meant, but he was better than most, not that I’d pay to see just him.

However, there was this one woman. In her thirties. Not beautiful and not dressed to the nines. She looked like someone you went to high school with, sans makeup, like a complete amateur. But this woman…

She had an identity. An affect. She wasn’t just telling jokes. She had a persona. It was odd her in an odd world. But small, talking about her individual life, situations we’d all been in and could identify with, but personalized to her.

She could make it.

And she was the only one.

Everybody else told jokes. Some of them funny. You can get jokes anywhere. But you can’t get stars almost anywhere.

On the way out she was sitting at the bar with her buddies and I told her she was the best one. She didn’t react. I’m not sure if she’s going for the brass ring. Doesn’t matter how talented you are, you’ve got to want it, badly.

So my point is you can do this on a pretty high level, even write your own reasonable songs, but that does not mean you can make it. Odds are you won’t. We are looking for stars, people with that je ne sais quoi.

Think about it. Was Freddie Mercury struck from a mold? David Bowie? You saw them and realized these people were different. And it wasn’t only about the visage, it was the whole package, the music was there, the look, the performance.

And Bowie had been kicking around for years before “Ziggy Stardust.” He meant nothing in the States, nothing, and not a whole hell of a lot more in the U.K. either. “Space Oddity” had already been released, but sans context. It was a song, a record, not part of a whole milieu.

It was a bit faster for Freddie, but not that fast. Although I love the initial Queen album from ’73, at the time I didn’t know a single other person who owned it and I never heard it on the radio. “Queen II” was different, you started to hear it on the radio in Los Angeles. The breakthrough was the third LP, “Sheer Heart Attack,” with “Killer Queen” and “Stone Cold Crazy.” Queen didn’t sound like anything else, it stuck out. And then came “A Night at the Opera.”

And you can’t fake it and you can’t learn it. Either you’re a star or you’re not. This is after the music. Either you’ve got it or you don’t. Sure, you might start off wet behind the ears, but you learn stagecraft over time, you improve, in your songwriting too. But to have a long career you can’t fake it, that’s who you’ve really got to be, and you’ve got to be all-in.

Come on, you remember high school. There was always a kid or two, a girl or a boy, who was different. Who wore different clothes and didn’t care what you thought. They did not need to be popular. And they were usually not denigrated, because they didn’t count, they were not even part of the scene. Oftentimes they were into art, in their own private backwater with their buddies. These are the people who became stars in the days of yore, and these are still the people who triumph today. Sure, you’ve got to need it, but you’ve got to be it.

Now chances are this is not you. And that’s perfectly fine. But don’t plan on being a music star. Most musicians are bad at hanging, making friends, having conversations, especially when it’s not people from their scene. You might be great at that. You can be a salesman, and there are salespeople who make millions a year, believe me. And in Silicon Valley, billions! Everybody’s got a skill. Don’t try to push yours into a hole in which it does not fit. Sure, you love music. As a matter of fact, the music business is overrun with people who tried to make it as musicians but found they just weren’t good enough, and got into the business side to stay close to the music.

So I always tell people to stay out of music. Yes, I try to scare them away. Encouragement is for the birds. Either you know this is your path or you don’t. And if you think it is… Go to an amateur night, hang with your competitors, see how you measure up. Maybe you’ll be inspired and get better. But chances are you’ll find you’re just not good enough. And that’s fine. But don’t expect spamming tastemakers about your tracks on Spotify and your social media numbers will make a difference, because it won’t. Because the expertise in the music business is recognizing stars and helping them with their careers, to get bigger, to break them. And it’s very hard work. The shortcuts of yore are gone. Used to be if you got a record deal you were way ahead of everybody else, and if you got on the radio you’d nearly made it. Today no media outlet equals that of the past. You’ve got to make it on your own. Which means you’ve got to be so good, so different, so special, that when people encounter you they never forget it.

Is this you?

Probably not.