“The Big Goodbye: Chinatown and the Last Years of Hollywood”: https://tinyurl.com/39p9w4kz

This is a fabulous book.

I was not planning to read it. Read the reviews, reserved it at the library, but I’m anti-nonfiction, I find that fiction resonates more, and I’d just finished a couple of music biographies that made me feel like I was wasting my life, they were just that frustrating. But I figured I’d skim “The Big Goodbye,” get an idea, before it expired and went back.

But I instantly got hooked.

Most of these recreation of Hollywood books are not good. Peter Biskind’s “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls” is the definitive statement on seventies movies, and so far we haven’t needed more.

But “The Big Goodbye” provides more.

Should you read it if you haven’t seen “Chinatown”?

No. But even if you only saw “Chinatown” once, when it came out, you should. Because it will bring you right back, to the late sixties and early seventies.

Film. You’ve got no idea the respect it used to get. Sam Wasson talks about this. There were film societies. New courses in college. Film was seen as the American art form. You went back and watched W.C. Fields and the Marx Brothers, were a completist of the legends, from Greta Garbo to William Wyler and Jean Renoir. It was a badge of honor to see the foreign film, if you said you didn’t want to read subtitles you were ignored. Today, an old film is “Old School,” released in 2003. Movies don’t engender that desire for history, to know the past. Today movies are all about the gross, every weekend the totals are published. As if big money makes a good movie, or little money makes a bad movie.

And the people in this book have big desires. Sure, there’s a bottom line, you can’t make too many losers, you won’t work. But the films cost a couple of million to make, not nine figures. And marketing budgets were not stratospheric either. So art reigned.

Roman Polanski… I’m not going to address what happened in and around the jacuzzi at Jack Nicholson’s house with that thirteen year old girl, even though it’s addressed in this book, but what you ultimately realize is the reason “Chinatown” is so great is because of Roman. The supposed hero, the screenwriter Robert Towne? He gets credit for the idea, along with his girlfriend, who found books on old L.A. and more, and he had a cowriter who didn’t get credit who most people are unaware of, but in truth it was Polanski’s movie, he turned it into a movie. I hate to say it, but this book is the worst advertisement for the writer ever. I’ve always believed the writer is everything. But Polanski shaped “Chinatown.” He knew what it lacked and ultimately what it needed.

And his history is delineated here. At length. You might know a lot, but you won’t know it all. Read it and you’ll understand where he came from, and how he dealt with Sharon Tate’s murder, how he suspected his friends.

Robert Evans?

At this point, after the book and movie, he’s been frozen into the past like the not quite dead Clive Davis. Busy trumpeting his own horn, as if he deserved all the credit. But Evans does deserve a good amount of credit, and he was all about the art and enabling the creators, unlike Mr. Davis. He wanted you to let your freak flag fly, he wanted to enable your imagination, but he was there to tell you when you went out of bounds. After Evans? Paramount was run by Barry Diller, a TV guy. The movies have never recovered.

Evans was an enabler, in some cases in a bad way, like with coke. But he was akin to Mo Ostin, even though Mo kept an even lower profile and was not self-aggrandizing. Make the talent feel comfortable, like there’s someone on their side, they’ll be loyal, they’ll deliver their best work.

As for Towne… He grew up in L.A. So many are immigrants, but for those who were here before, their history informs them in a way those who are transplants can never fully fathom. Towne too slid into coke. But even worse, he had trouble completing scripts. And isn’t it funny that when Towne ultimately got to direct, his desire, the result was nowhere near as good as when he worked with first class collaborators, on “Shampoo” and “The Last Detail.” Towne was the ultimate script doctor, but he wanted more. And in movies, it’s a long struggle, you need someone to believe in you, to give you the money. You’ve got to earn your opportunity. Towne got there, but ultimately seemed to be overwhelmed and frozen.

And all of these guys were womanizers. Like the rock stars, but the rock stars were selling something different. That was part of their image, whereas these film guys were holier-than-thou, thought they deserved respect, but they oftentimes acted reprehensibly.

So you’ll learn how “Chinatown” gets made. And there were a lot of changes to the original script, A LOT! It took forever to come up with an ending. And Faye Dunaway lives up to her reputation as a diva, difficult to work with, but she ultimately delivers. And John Huston is drunk. And they fire the cinematographer and come up with someone new, just like they ultimately do with the score. Instinct as opposed to data, that’s how films used to be made. And Jack Nicholson? He shines throughout. He may not have treated Anjelica Huston well, but his image is burnished even more in this book, he was cool, he believed in himself and delivered, he was a star.

So…

Do I really think you’re gonna read this book?

Probably not. First because you probably don’t even read books, I mean who has time, right? And you’re up for lessons, but this is about what happened fifty years ago, how does that apply to you? But people never change, the problems remain the same, like the petty war between Frank Yablans and Robert Evans. Screw the movie, I want money and power!

And “The Big Goodbye” is not always the easiest read. Some of the sentences, the analysis, might flummox you at first, you might need to read them again, but ultimately what we’ve got here is a first class depiction of a golden era, the equal to “Easy Riders, Raging Bulls,” not a survey, but a deep dive into how movies are made.

But really, it’s the history, call it nostalgia if you’d like, of the way it used to be.

It’s not that I want to live in the past, tech delivered what the movies did not over the last twenty five years, but it was a golden era, like classic rock. Not every art form, not every business vertical continues to thrive at the same level. They have peaks, and then decline to a steady status. And the peak always happens with innovation, when you let the artists go free, worry less about the bottom line than the end product.

“Chinatown” is a great movie. And you’ll be stunned how many choices, what detail went into making it. It’s fascinating, and if you lived through it you’ll want to know.

“The Big Goodbye” calls to you, you want to get back to it, and when you read it you’re distracted, removed from the regular world, you’re in reverie, just like in the theatre watching a great movie.

This book is really something. It’s not the thing, but it’ll tell you about the thing. And until you know about the thing, how it came to be, you can’t create the thing yourself. And I know that’s what you want to do.

Have you signed up yet?

We haven’t had this spirit here since 2006, when Facebook opened up to the general public. Or maybe 2010, with the launch of Instagram. Or 2017, with the launch of TikTok. Only this time it’s different, we’re not excited about a new platform because of the possibilities, but because of the hatred of the old platform, Twitter. We’re seeking a refuge.

It’s all about community. In every vertical these days. That’s the hardest lift, the biggest climb. It doesn’t matter how good your idea is, it comes down to whether it spreads, whether you can build a fan/user base. It’s nearly impossible to do. People are overwhelmed, they want less clutter, not more. And in a world split into narrow niches, they might not be interested in your vertical.

But we couldn’t wait to sign up for Threads. I did. I’m eager. Because not only am I down on Elon Musk, I’m down on the experience. Twitter has become less fulfilling, I don’t need it as much, I’m not nearly as addicted as I used to be, it’s no longer the heartbeat of the world, it’s been taken over by bro culture, a tiny sliver of society that most of us decry.

Elon Musk might have been good at getting ahead of the public, with PayPal and Tesla, but he’s not good at actually living in the moment, with the rest of us. You see Musk’s input is limited. What I mean is he doesn’t have enough sources, he’s living in an echo chamber. He believes the hype. He believes the problem with Twitter is freedom. He’s become the hero of ignorant, alienated males, and that’s a bad look. Furthermore, you fail upon launch, not when you’re dealing with a mature platform. There was this insanity with check marks. You have to pay, or maybe you don’t have to pay. Some people can post endless screeds. It’s no longer a microblogging platform, it seems to be going backward to something like Blogger or LiveJournal. And we learned with Tumblr that you never alienate your core customers, whether it be users or advertisers, because it all depends upon community, you’ve got to keep the eyeballs, otherwise you’ve got nothing.

In other words, this is a maintenance mission as opposed to an innovative mission. You take what you’ve got and tweak it, you don’t trash it, throwing the essence overboard.

Steve Jobs believed in small teams. He thought they accomplished more than large teams. But he didn’t believe in eliminating the team. It’s one thing to be lean, it’s another to be strapped. And in a world run by Millennial and Gen-Z values you don’t want to abuse workers and not pay your bills. That’s anathema to them, they hate you on principle, you’ve got to assuage them first. You have to know who your customer is.

And then messing with the content… It’s bad enough we have to see ads, now we don’t even get to see the content we want to?

As for Zuckerberg… He’s no prince, but we haven’t heard anything about the metaverse in months. He seems to have pivoted, refocused, without trashing his past efforts. He’s just moved on, like a band that made a bad album and now wants to recover, like Garth Brooks after he morphed into Chris Gaines.

And Facebook may have reduced head count, but the company went on a hiring spree over the last few years. The company is lean (and can we call it Facebook instead of Meta now?), but it still has enough person power to create and distribute.

Musk had nothing he could protect. Hell, you can build a microblogging platform on open source software. The lift is not that heavy. Why did he think he was immune? There’s no secret code, no investment of so many dollars that no one can compete, all that Musk has is his audience, and people can abandon you on a dime. And you never really know what the public will do, but you can prepare for it.

Screw what the Supreme Court says, screw the Trumpists, most people don’t want falsehoods on Twitter. They don’t want conspiracy theories. They want a more pure site, they want SUPERVISION! Otherwise it’s a cesspool, with a shouting match laid on top. This is kind of like gun laws. The right and the Supreme Court might want open carry of battle weapons, but most people do not. And in order for Twitter to succeed, it must appeal to most people. Or at least the people who were using it. In this case, the informed, educated elite. You went to Twitter for news, hard news, who let the nincompoops in?

So we want to get out.

That’s what Threads offers.

This is why the Great Man strategy fails. Just because you’re good in one thing does not mean you’ll be good in another. Just because Musk can make and distribute electric cars does not mean he can run a successful app that interacts with the public at large. He’s got no clue. Like we constantly hear we want businessmen in government. Well, first and foremost, we want more women, not men, and we want those experienced, who know the ropes, who are not learning on the fly. In other words, would you want a great lawyer to be your heart surgeon? Or vice versa? Never has expertise been denigrated so.

Not that the experts are not manipulative. This is what turns us off most about Twitter, Musk’s manipulation, as if we can’t see it. Under the banner of freedom he’s limiting ours.

Turns out we need a microblogging platform. Quick, you smell smoke, is there a fire? The TV station won’t tell you if there is a fire, nor will the radio station. They’re further behind the curve than ever. No, for that you need the wisdom of the crowd, real time information, which is what Twitter provided, but we don’t need to get it from Twitter. Assuming there are enough people contributing elsewhere.

And Twitter is not about catalog. It is not like Wikipedia, the inertia of the past locking in its power. To compete? You’d have to recreate all that history, it’s too much of an effort. But Tweets are essentially evanescent. It’s Groundhog Day, over and over and over again. You’re starting anew. What happened yesterday, even earlier this afternoon, might already be irrelevant. Almost nobody searches history on Twitter, and so much of it is just plain wrong. Twitter is where you go to see the story unfold, it’s not where you go to read deep analysis after the fact.

And Zuckerberg never invented anything successful in his life. He refined Facebook. He purchased Instagram and WhatsApp, was beaten to the punch by TikTok and is now competing, poorly, with Reels.

But users don’t have a problem with TikTok, they see no reason to move on. It’s those not on TikTok who complain. Just like those not on Twitter complained about the cancellation of political figures and misinformation. It was all theory, in a relative vacuum, mostly horsesh*t. This is how bands built careers in the old days, not only with their music but the hatred by the oldsters and out of touch, it made them cool! You need to be cool to survive.

So Zuckerberg just copied Twitter. There’s no protection of an idea. No reason he can’t. Which is one of the positives of art, you can try and replicate it, but most times you cannot. You need vision, you need expertise…

The Threads story will be in the news for weeks now, maybe even months. I’m betting on its success, but even if it doesn’t make it another platform will arise, that’s how much people are dissatisfied with Musk, maybe even hate him. All his faux pas are coming home to roost, and the limit to the number of tweets was just the cherry on top, the straw that broke the camel’s back, enough already.

Let’s be clear… The government is not in control of Twitter or Threads.

And if you run one of these outlets you must have a soft touch, because if you alienate the audience, you’re toast.

And this is interesting because recently users have been happy with their apps, they haven’t seen a need for replication. Which is why Walmart still has not toppled Amazon. Online one is enough.

Unless there’s enough blowback.

My problem with Amazon is the ads, you can’t find what you’re looking for, and some of its business policies. If someone else had the inventory and delivery, I’d switch. But it’s a very heavy lift. Meanwhile, Jassy is about contracting as opposed to growing. Is now the time? When Amazon is under the microscope? We hate the company for so many reasons, it’s anti-union, it disadvantages third party sellers, I could go on and on. It’s like the record business, the labels thought people had no choice, then Napster came along and it turned out that people did have an option. And it took years for the labels to even see that the internet option was better for the consumer than ten tracks on an overpriced CD. In internet-land, you’ve got to give the public what it wants.

This is the story of Zaslav. He too thinks he lives in a vacuum. Killing content for the tax write-off, taking the axe to TCM… The most forwarded story today is the one about the “GQ” story taken down: https://wapo.st/3pE26M0 Zaslav is a f*ucking out of touch idiot. Just like Musk. If Zaslav didn’t think his sh*t didn’t stink he’d have been on the internet, would know how it works. YOU NEVER RESPOND TO BAD PRESS! BECAUSE NO ONE IS GONNA SEE IT! What was a nonstory is now a story. How come I know that and this guy making triple digit millions doesn’t? Because he’s out of touch, hanging with his buddies in Sun Valley instead of home on TikTok, where he can truly learn what his customers want.

Ignore the public at your peril. Take people’s temperatures constantly. Don’t bend to any whim, but you want to make an informed decision.

So what we’ve got here now is an alienated press corps that is gonna have a field day reporting on Threads, adding to its user base and possible success. You may not care, but reporters do, they’re addicted to Twitter, which means you’re gonna have to hear about this Twitter/Threads battle ad infinitum.

At least we’ve got a game.

We need something like this in politics.

But no, we’re just supposed to believe in the aged Biden, we get no choice, no voice. But if they gave us one, someone younger who could stand up and debate and fight back, maybe people would get excited and rally around the candidate. Instead, we hate Trump and DeSantis and we’re given no ammunition, we’re supposed to shut up, we’re told the experts know better, when they’ve been wrong time and time again.

Like Elon Musk.

Turns out he wasn’t an expert in social media.

GOOD RIDDANCE!

Hopefully.

A banker, a techie, can never be a rock star. BECAUSE THEY DON’T PLAY MUSIC!

That’s how far we’ve come, a term that meant something has been bastardized to the point that few know the original definition. Even funnier, the supposed “rock stars” want to be bankers, mostly investors/venture capitalists, they want the same money, even though that door is closed, they can never get that much.

A rock star is not in it for the money. And a rock star has so much money that money is irrelevant, they’ve got money to burn. On destroying hotel rooms. On exotic cars. It’s part of the lifestyle, a rock star can do whatever he or she wants. They’re above the rest, outside the norm, they’re laughing at convention, they’re doing it their way.

I’m getting all this blowback from people telling me that Bob Dylan and Neil Young are not the only rock stars left. If I really think about it, there might be a couple of more people deserving of that moniker, but very few, if any.

Being a rock star has nothing to do with how many tickets you sell, where your place is on the chart, although you must have topped it, been ubiquitous once. Yes, to be a rock star you must be known, otherwise you might be a rocker, but you’re not a star.

Have you sold out? Done a commercial? Then you can’t be a rock star. This was anathema upon creation of the term, and for decades thereafter. You didn’t take the money because it would compromise your identity and credibility. A rock star must be uncompromised so they can create effectively. And the reason they’re exalted rock stars is because nobody else can be. That’s why the public believes in them, because they’re beacons, the average Joe can’t be a rock star. And to be a rock star you have to pay your dues. Like an athlete. There are no instant rock stars, they tried that once and it didn’t take. I.e. the Monkees. The main criticism? They didn’t play their own instruments, never mind write their own songs.

By time the late sixties emerged, with the term “rock star,” FM was king. You didn’t do it the man’s way, you did it your way. And instead of dressing up, because you were so damn rich, you dressed down. This was your middle finger to the world at large. I’m so damn famous I can dress however I want, I don’t need to wear a suit and tie, my street clothes are enough. This is how techies superseded rockers, by adopting this philosophy. Zuckerberg with his hoodie… He doesn’t care what you think, HE’S RICH! AND POWERFUL! But he’s not a rock star.

So Neil Young never took the money. Did commercials, launched products like liquor, sold tchotchkes. Seemingly everybody else did. Even Bob Dylan. But the reason Dylan is still a rock star is because he’s inscrutable, you never know if it’s a joke or serious, he keeps you guessing, you can never really know him, and that’s rare in an era where everybody exposes themselves online. And Dylan keeps putting out new albums, exploring, whereas the supposed rock stars of yore don’t even make new music, because there’s no money in it, they just go on the road and play their hits to aged audiences like our parents’ heroes, the crooners.

Yes, there was a break, a fissure, between the generations. You knew if you were old or young, and the old were set in their ways and the young challenged them. Today the young want to buy in, if you challenge you might not gain some of those riches. The mantra in the old days was to question authority, now everybody wants to succumb to authority, for the money. And today youngsters are not into being singular, they want to be a member of the group, they’re scared to go it alone, to be excoriated. Just like the losers bite back, respond to the trolls, get into online skirmishes. A rock star is above all that, say what you want, it makes no difference to them, they’re on a higher plane.

And a rock star is not on pins and needles as to whether the next record will sell (or stream). Because that’s not why they’re in the game, they’re in the game for artistic expression, power, they know if you’re dying to hang on, keep your perch, you’ve lost the plot. The goal is to have the audience follow you, not vice versa.

A rock star knows awards are b.s. Because you can’t quantify art. If they’re blabbing about the number of Grammys they have, roll your eyes, because until the nineties Grammys were completely irrelevant, were laughed at, deservedly. The voters were out of touch and still are. If you need someone else to quantify you, to qualify you, anoint you, respect you, you’re not an artist. An artist doesn’t care about these things. Furthermore, the system is always behind the artist, the artist’s job is not to be co-opted by the system, but to question the system and make its members think and bring them forward, to enlighten them. It’s a dirty job and only a few do it, the rest don’t have the chutzpah, never mind the balls.

And that’s why we have no rock stars today. Today it’s all about cash. Supposed rock stars are chasing the aforementioned bankers and techies as well as the Kardashians. They think it’s all about money, when it never was. And they sell out to corporations because everybody else does. Not acknowledging it inherently compromises your credibility. Everyone is bitching about Alito taking fat cat money, how it clouds his judgment, and you don’t think the same applies in art? Take the money and…at best you’ll worry about maintaining “your brand.” You don’t want to lose your deal, you want to make more deals, got to keep that image clean. And the audience on board. Which is why today’s performers won’t take a stand, they believe it’s too dangerous, they might alienate some of their audience if they come out against this or that, look what happened to Bud Light! Yeah, Bud Light is a brand, sold by the man. That’s not an artist, that’s not a rock star. A rock star is just that, a musician. There’s no branding involved. The rock star’s scope is very narrow. They write and play music. They might have some hobbies, but they don’t ram them down your throat. That’s part of their 3-D life, everybody needs inspiration. And most rock stars don’t reveal their hobbies, their everyday life, because they speak through their music, that’s their statement, and that’s enough. And the audience thinks they know the rock star but they don’t. They infuse their hopes and dreams in the rock star. The rock star is inherently mysterious, even when they’re available. That’s Bob Dylan’s strength, is he being serious or ironic?

A rock star speaks truth to power. To live outside the law you must be honest. Bob Dylan said that, you may know the line, but maybe don’t know the song, “Absolutely Sweet Marie,” from “Blonde on Blonde.” It was an album track. But a rock star is so powerful that lines in their songs penetrate the culture, are repeated by those who are not only unaware of their provenance, but didn’t even know they come from a song! Sure, the line can be from a hit, but it doesn’t have to be. As for living outside the law… That’s the essence of a rock star. And their honesty is what gives their words power, because you can’t look at them and point out the flaws, the creaks in the armor, the points of selling out. This is how the rock star feels, this is their statement, you can reject it, but not on the basis that the person who uttered it is compromised.

You can argue over what a rock star says and does. Because it’s just that powerful and different. Once again, the rock star does what the average citizen cannot.

And just because a performer has blind followers, that does not make them a rock star. A rock star’s fans adore the artist, but respect those who can think, that’s what the artist is selling.

And a rapper/hip-hop star, can never be a rock star. This is why they don’t belong in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, even though that ship sailed years ago. You see the ethos of hip-hop is different. It’s all about selling out, taking money from the man. An African-American art form…Blacks have been ripped-off, put down, not adequately compensated and denied opportunity from the moment they set foot in America. And that’s still the case, even though the Supreme Court says otherwise. So the rapper gets all the money they can, as soon as they can. And knowing that the man will never truly accept them, some continue to flout the law. Rappers keep getting arrested, but you see they don’t believe this hip-hop thing is forever, they can’t give up their old ways, they rely on their old ways to get them through. They know they’re the other and will ultimately never be accepted. And rap is adored by kids whose parents hate the music, the lifestyle. Rap has a similar foundation to rock and roll, but rap is not rock, never forget that.

And all the rockers were influenced by Black musicians. The foundation of the blues. That’s what inspired the rock records of the golden era, those unheralded tracks that were cut when few were paying attention and the pay was so poor that many of the purveyors had day jobs. You see the blues musicians’ heads were in the right place. The music needed to be unsullied, honest. Then again, these people didn’t even have an opportunity to sell out. They were ripped-off. And when the rock stars that followed were ripped-off… They hired sui generis managers who were rock stars themselves to get that money for them, to allow them to be rock stars: Albert Grossman, Peter Grant, Irving Azoff and David Geffen, before he turned his back on Laura Nyro and revealed he needed to be a rock star himself. A great manager knows they’re subservient to the talent, ALWAYS! Quick, who is the manager of Neil Young? You might know his career was directed by Elliott Rabinowitz/Roberts, but only because Neil was so damn famous, Elliott didn’t look for his own publicity, he wasn’t doing promo, interviews, writing a book, he was there to serve Neil, who could trust him. And Neil still exhibits Elliott’s picture on a road case, observable from the audience. Neil knows where he comes from. Loyalty is everything, loyalty pays dividends in a world where you can’t trust anyone.

So now you know why even though there’s a ton of coin in music today, it’s not as powerful as it once was. Because there are no rock stars.

If you want what rock stars delivered, you’ve got to watch a streaming television show, that is interesting and uncompromised. That’s the essence of “Squid Game.” And “The Sopranos” before it. How did they come up with this stuff? That’s what we always asked about the work of our rock stars. We needed to listen to see what they were up to.

And the media was not aligned with the performers. Which is why Woodstock was such a revelation, THAT MANY PEOPLE SHOWED UP? No one predicted it, no one was prepared for it, not even the promoters. And then came a rash of festival cancellations, because towns and their elders didn’t want to risk chaos in their own backyard. Today there are too many festivals, we’re losing them instead of adding them. And the promoter is the ultimate power, whereas the act always had the power in the past, always for rock stars. This is how Peter Grant changed the touring industry. Led Zeppelin is always going to sell out, we’re the draw, not the promoter, who needs to do little. Therefore Led Zeppelin gets 90% and the promoter gets 10%. Believe me, if Peter Grant was alive and booking Zeppelin at a festival today, the first thing he’d be looking at was how much money the promoter was making, then he’d decide on the fee. And if the festival was bigger than any act, the band wouldn’t play. The band needed to be primary. Or paid more than any other act ever before.

Then again, Robert Plant is a rock star. Because he refused to rest on his laurels, he’s making new and different music, and he allowed himself to age, to appear scraggly. But the interesting thing is Plant has rejected the moniker himself. He was so big, he wants to now appear normal, sans airs. He doesn’t need to hold on to what he had, he can move on and leave it behind. This is the problem with Jimmy Page, he stopped. Like I said above, a rock star keeps creating, keeps going, exploring.

Do I expect rock stars to return?

Well, first and foremost rock is dead. Could come back, but I’m not holding my breath. But anyway, what I’ve focused on here is the ethos of the rock star, that can be adopted by anybody who plays music. But it’s not.

And a rock star does not have to brag about their talent or success, that’s a boxer, that’s Muhammad Ali, that’s not a rock star.

So a future rock star must focus on the music, and must pay his or her dues, which is why a thirteen year old cannot be a rock star, they haven’t lived enough to experience and react. The Beatles may have been young when they broke through, but they had spent those hardscrabble years in Germany, not only on stage, but with the prostitutes and the rest of society, seeing how life really works.

So maybe you reject the above. Because you don’t want to confront it, you don’t want to ask yourself the hard questions, you don’t want to change, you just want to put on the blinders and follow. The rock stars of yore were appealing to both head and heart. What they said counted, and you metabolized it and it changed you, opened your eyes.

I can’t open your eyes because they’re permanently closed. You need to believe in what you believe. This is the problem with the entire nation, on both the left and the right. The right isn’t even exposed to the truth and has blind faith. And the elite think they exist outside society, that they made all that money independently and deserve to keep it.

A rock star is aware, knows all viewpoints, is in search of truth. And is willing to go all in, to risk everything for their art.

I know, it’s a foreign concept. Which is why they call it “classic rock.”

But most of the classicists are frozen in time. Trading on the past. Stuck in who they once were, as if life doesn’t go on.

Life does. And we’re all looking for illumination, for how to live our lives, we desire not only stimulation, but insight.

Provide all these and you’ll not only rule hearts and minds, but the world.

Then again, Robert Plant did go accept a Kennedy Honor. Whereas Bob Dylan refused to show up to accept his Nobel Prize. Dylan knows it’s all b.s. All those invested in the award and propriety were up in arms, which is exactly what Dylan desires. He forces them to look at his choice and who they are, do they want to double-down or maybe question themselves…that’s the power of a rock star.

Like I said above, Robert Plant is past rock star status. He reached the mountaintop and there was nowhere to go. But rather than try and hold on to his perch, unmoving, he marched downward, put his image at risk, did it in a way no one of his stature had done it before. And you know what resulted? His acclaimed work with Alison Krauss. Meanwhile, Jimmy Page is at home fighting over real estate.

Just because the term “rock star” has been bastardized, that does not mean the true meaning, the essence, doesn’t still exist. It was very hard to be a rock star back in the heyday, nearly impossible, and we respected those who succeeded. And the funny thing is oftentimes they didn’t respect us, that’s not what they were in it for. You can go see Bob Dylan live, but he’s wants to make it interesting for himself more than you. He doesn’t want to just play his hits by rote. He mixes up the melodies, changes things and doesn’t care if you recognize the song or not. But you keep coming. BECAUSE HE’S BOB DYLAN!

Who else can you say this about?

Neil Young.

And that’s about it.

1

So Neil straps on this old white Gretsch and starts telling a story. How it’s stereo. Three strings go to one speaker, the other three to another. He’s unsure of the provenance of the instrument, how someone came up with the idea, how they executed it, but here it is.

And then…

Neil Young and Bob Dylan, they’re the only rock stars left. And unlike Bob, Neil has never sold out, never. Never did any commercials, never changed his look, he continued to be himself every day until now, and that’s revelatory.

Like his clothing. I ask you, do you wear running shoes? Maybe even HOKAs? Come on, that’s what’s comfortable, that’s your everyday footwear, why not wear your running shoes on stage?

That’s what they used to do. That was part of the magic. Sure, it was a show, but it was more of a concert. There was no production, and the audience wasn’t expecting it. They came for the music, to hear their favorites from the records come alive. And the performers were gods. They sauntered on stage in your burg, did their act, seemingly effortlessly, and then moved on to another town, not to be seen again for another year. They weren’t hawking products, they weren’t a brand, they were just themselves.

So Neil is wearing dungarees as we called them in the east, jeans as we call them in the west, and they’ve got almost as many miles on them as he’s got on himself. They’re faded, and they’re baggy in the back, Neil doesn’t have much of an ass. And he’s wearing a jean jacket. And a t-shirt that says ‘EARTH,” a subtle statement, which has more resonance since there’s no other message on stage, you’re not bombarded, and you can’t always see the letters anyway, because of his jacket.

And this is a solo show. Your expectations are different. You don’t expect the full band sound.

And then…

After a bit of hesitation… Neil speaks slowly, with a wink, a sense of humor. He’s not sacrificing his identity and he’s bringing you in on the joke. And he’s not taking it so seriously, the music isn’t precious, it’s just him, there, singing.

And then… Neil starts picking on this white Gretsch and it’s “OHIO”! And it’s the exact same sound from the record. I’m tingling as I write this, it was right there, 53 years later, the essence, IT WAS AMAZING!

That was enough to make the evening.

I mean come on… Today’s songs are about money, I’ve got it and look at my lifestyle. Or platitudes. Not about the current climate, whether it be the air or politics. Because the acts are not separate, they’re part of the scam, trying to get their cash, move up the food chain. But Neil? He’s the other. He’s separate. What he was selling last night you can’t get anywhere else, NOWHERE ELSE, and it’s this magic that the modern music business was built upon.

So he’s singing about tin soldiers and Nixon coming and I’m remembering May 4th, I’m remembering the picture of that woman with her arms outstretched on the Kent State campus. I’m remembering when everything was vital, when it was clear who the enemy was, when you felt that standing up could make a difference, when you weren’t afraid of standing up, consequences be damned, and this made the musicians, our pied pipers, even more powerful.

And there’s picking and distortion and wow. I had to give Neil a standing ovation, I didn’t care whether anybody else did. This is what I live for, this is what I am.

2

Now the audience was aged. There might have been some people under 50, but I didn’t see them. This is not Steve Miller playing his radio hits, which have continued to endure, passed down from generation to generation, no, this is something different. Neil Young was never AM. Well, except for a moment there in ’72, and then he went on an arena tour and played all new material and alienated all but his core. This is about more than the songs, this is about an artist, this is about a belief. So either you needed to be there or shrugged at best. But if you were there…

Do you remember rock and roll?

It’s dead, didn’t you know? Oh, there are acts out there that play in a rock style, but none of them have purchase on the entire globe like the acts of yore other than maybe Coldplay, and they broke before everything changed.

Forget that rock music became a caricature of itself at times. With the spandex and the hair ballads and…

You can still see rock music at the amphitheatre, some of the aged acts tour arenas. But… They’ve gotten plastic surgery, they’re trying to look young, like they used to, whereas Neil Young looks just like us, he’s lived, he’s not trying to pull the wool over our eyes, he’s not asking us to suspend disbelief, he’s right there with us, and it makes you believe.

And it was only a moment, and then he was gone.

And he may never be available this way again. Playing deep cuts solo?

It was like the old days, not only pre-internet, but pre-MTV. You had to be there. You have to tell everybody you know. Because what you experienced…this was it, the essence, Neil was still doing it, stunningly, and he was connecting with you personally, even though you were one of 1,200.

Yes, it was an underplay. You felt privileged to be there. A once in a lifetime event. The kind we used to live for.

3

So there were three keyboards on stage. Not the electric kind, but a grand, an upright and some kind of pedal organ with a unique sound. As for the upright, it was originally rented back in ’68. And worse for wear. But it was here, just like Neil.

And Neil is playing harmonica on almost every song. He’s got that contraption around his neck. And there’s a mic embedded in it, so he can march around stage playing his guitar, so he’s not rooted to one spot. And Neil is sorting through the harmonicas, looking for the right one. He throws one to the side of the stage. And whenever he finds one that’s right, he dips it in a jar of water, shakes it off, puts it in the holder, and begins another number.

And when he’s playing the guitar, he’s set up in that Neil Young position, style. You know, dipped a bit and sideways.

And then he says he’s going to play the first song he recorded in the studio. And it’s “Burned.”

I don’t think the little girls understand, however… Those of us who were alive, back in ’66, when this track emerged from wax, on the first Buffalo Springfield album, the one with “For What It’s Worth,” “Burned” is baked into us, deep in our memory banks, never to be forgotten, from a more optimistic time, when we thought everything was possible.

“Now I’m finding out that it’s so confusin’

No time left and I know I’m losin'”

Back when we had more questions than answers, when we were trying to figure it out, when it was a badge of honor not to know and to be figuring it out.

“Burned” was just like the record, but stripped down, sans the sixties trappings, and it didn’t play as nostalgia, but as a part of Neil’s life, you could visualize the situation that inspired him to write it.

And then another Buffalo Springfield song that Neil wrote but Richie sang, the opener from “Last Time Around,” “On the Way Home,” you know, the one with that delicious change…

“But you know me

And I miss you now”

Sung by Neil the sweetness was gone, authenticity was infused, you were elated, connected to what once was and forever shall be, and you also knew you’d better enjoy this moment, because it may never come again.

Then came a song from “Trans,” the one that’s on the album cover but not on the actual record, “If You Got Love.”

And Neil sits down at the organ and starts to play it and David Geffen comes to mind, how he sued Neil for making uncommercial albums. But here Neil still is, living, breathing, creating, proud of what he once did, whereas Geffen is putting his name on buildings so he won’t be forgotten.

And “Vampire Blues” from “On the Beach,” after Neil alienated his audience live, and with the live album “Time Fades Away.” Neil didn’t want to be a dorm room favorite, the girls’ crush, selling soft music like “Heart of Gold,” but he ultimately played that too last night. It was deep cuts and just a couple of obvious ones. Neil was making it interesting for himself. I mean how can these people go on the road and sing the same songs they’ve been performing for decades, by rote, getting the hit from the audience and the cash, primarily the cash. They’re calcified. Neil Young may be crotchety, worse for wear, but he’s not stuck in time, he’s soldiering on.

And speaking of soldiers…

The closer was “Rockin’ in the Free World.”

“We got a thousand points of light

For the homeless man

We got a kinder, gentler machine gun hand

We got department stores and toilet paper

Got Styrofoam boxes for the ozone layer

Got a man of the people says keep hope alive

Got fuel to burn, got roads to drive”

These problems still exist, but half the country wants to overlook them, believing there’s no problem, nothing needing fixing. And it’s not only the red, but the elites too… They want their money, they believe they earned it, they want fewer taxes, these problems are someone else’s responsibility to solve, not theirs.

“Rockin’ in the Free World” never crossed over to AM, was never a hit single, but we all know it, maybe as a result of Neil’s performance of it with Pearl Jam at the MTV Video Music Awards, back in 1993, before the show became a self-promotional event, when it was still about music and attitude and a sense of humor, when the channel still meant something, when it represented the other, not only the youth, but the still vital boomers. And then everybody sold out, went home to their individual space and it was over, kaput. Today there is no center, and what is popular isn’t for the audience, but the artist, singing about their troubles. Why is everybody so unsatisfied? Isn’t being able to be an artist, sing your music on stage and earn a living enough?

Used to be.

Not anymore.

4

Not that it was a long show. Not even an hour and a half. Neil came out and did it, he didn’t need to convince us, didn’t have to rationalize the ticket price, he just sang his songs, and that was enough.

And even though the songs might have been old, the performance was new. Like Neil came over to your house and was playing in your living room, like we used to do in the sixties. It was alive, with hope and reverence… Yes, we revered Neil Young. This guy had survived and thrived, was a beacon for people no longer paying attention.

It’s hard to go against the grain, people don’t like it. But deep down everybody respects you, for being an individual, for having a point of view, for pushing the envelope in your art. Which is why the media is always interested in what Neil has to say, they never say no, and unlike Dylan, Neil is available. And…

Last night was a privilege.

And just like Neil Young doesn’t care what you think, those in attendance don’t care what those who weren’t there think. Judge it, put it down, it doesn’t matter. Like I said, it’s only Bob and Neil, the last ones rockin’ in the free world with their visions intact, making it interesting for themselves, and in turn making it interesting for us, the audience.

How would you like it if every time someone stopped by your house they told the same damn story. Enough is enough. Three times, not even four, you’d kick them out, say no mas. That’s what it’s like seeing Neil’s contemporaries.

Artistry… It’s not about commercialism. It’s about honing your chops so you can express yourself, and continue to express yourself. It’s about growing. It’s about exploring. And although the input of the world is important, you are not imprisoned by said world. You exist outside it, so you can comment upon it.

Artistry…it’s like pornography, you know it when you see it.

And we see it rarely today.

And people have no sense of history.

But if you were there, and remember…

Last night you were in the presence of a true artist, one of the very last, being himself, you couldn’t even call it an act, and it made you feel alive and hopeful and special, just like the music did way back when, which is why you held it in such high esteem.

We may never see the likes of Neil Young again. Rock is dead, the paradigm has shifted.

But Neil was positively alive last night.

And it was THRILLING!