“Last Chance Texaco”: https://amzn.to/37gCYhm

It’s amazing she’s alive.

This book has not gotten enough press. It’s the absolute best book about being an artist in the rock world that I’ve ever read. It’s beyond honest.

Most people are feeding the starmaking machinery behind the popular song, but not Rickie Lee, she stands alone, she does it her way or else it’s the highway, where she spent a lot of time.

She grew up in Phoenix. When she wasn’t running away. Stealing a car with a boyfriend and driving to L.A. Living in a cave in Big Sur. Hitchhiking from California to Ontario on a verbal agreement despite only being fifteen years old. You’ll be riveted by the course of her life. But the reason “Last Chance Texaco” is so damn good is because of the underlying truth revealed. We’re not only seeing the world through Rickie Lee’s eyes, she’s telling us how she feels about it. You remember feelings, don’t you?  Gone in today’s arts all in service to building a brand. You show no weakness in America today, otherwise people will push you to the side, you will not be taken seriously, you won’t ever get the big money.

But Rickie Lee Jones was never concerned with the big money.

Now this was the late sixties and early seventies folks. Which is fifty years ago, but it wasn’t as quaint and unsophisticated as some might believe. Sure, there was no internet, but it was far from the wild west. I grew up in the suburbs, where parents focused on their progeny getting into elite institutions of higher education. But Rickie Lee? She didn’t even graduate from high school!

She was kicked out for a bad attitude. This happens again and again. Rickie Lee is canceled for just being who she is. Have you ever experienced this? I certainly have. You’re not trying to make trouble, but your identity just does not square with conventional precepts and you must pay the price. For some reason they believe you’re stupid, but then when you demonstrate greater intelligence than they possess they come down even harder. Become an automaton. Hew to the rules. Don’t color outside the lines. And then you’ll become a productive member of society.

Yeah, one in which there’s no lifetime employment and nobody cares about anybody else. The boomers were sold a bill of goods. Prepared for a world that was crumbling and ultimately did not exist. They thought becoming professionals, doctors or lawyers, would be enough to insure success, to put them at the top of the economic ladder, but by the end of the eighties Michael Milken was making half a billion dollars a year in finance and they weren’t even in the stock market.

So Rickie Lee knows her family is insane. They come from nothing and continue living on the bottom. Her father rages and her mother’s mood swings are unpredictable. Rickie Lee comes home from school one day to find out her mother has pulled all her teeth. Why? Because they were hurting her. Huh?

Her older sister Janet spins wild, gets pregnant and then lords her age over Rickie, jealous that she didn’t get to be a free teenager.

Meanwhile, the family keeps moving.

So Rickie Lee is in school, and everybody HATES HER! She’s just being herself but she can get no traction. She’s got cooties. Being popular is the number one goal in school, certainly if you go to public school. To be on the other end of the spectrum is to be a dreaded pariah, and Rickie Lee describes her feelings so well.

But ultimately she is rescued by the Beatles. She’s a Beatles fanatic. How many books have been written about this? How many movies made? But Rickie Lee nails the mania, what it felt like to be a young girl inspired and changed by the foursome from Liverpool. She delineates how it was different back then, and it certainly was, despite wankers constantly telling us that it’s the same today, that we’re just too old to recognize it.

But no, back then we followed the music, lived for the music!

Rickie Lee snuck in to see Hendrix.

She even went to the Devonshire Downs festival, a pre-Woodstock event that no one who wasn’t there seems to remember, if they even heard about it: https://bit.ly/2VuwiJK She had to make her way to Northridge, California in June of 1969 at the age of fourteen, because she needed to be closer to the music, she couldn’t miss it. And Rickie Lee was not the only one. But most other people asked mommy and daddy to lend them the car, pay for it all, but not Rickie Lee.

So she lives a peripatetic lifestyle, bouncing all over the west coast, being brought home by the law only to run away again. She keeps talking about her large breasts covering up her young age, but there’s also constant interaction with boys/men, crashing at their places, and you know what that means…

But she can sing.

But despite getting a few breaks, after years she’s ready to give up, but she calls her mother who bad vibes her, saying she always wanted to be a singer and she hangs in there until Lowell George decides to cut “Easy Money” and…

I don’t care if you’ve never even heard of Rickie Lee Jones. If you consider yourself an artist, you need to read this book. Because it’s the perspective, where she’s coming from, that blows your mind. You feel alone, and then you read her book and you find yourself on the same page and you can’t believe it. If you’re looking to get rich, learn how to network, jump from one traditional stone to another, don’t even bother, that’s not what this book is about. It’s about seeing the world through a young woman’s eyes who was broke, kicked around, and through sheer force of will ultimately succeeded.

Oh, Rickie Lee is confident. She knows her talent, knows she has a backbone. But she also knows she’s on the cutting edge of women’s power. She’s breaking trail. And that’s the hardest job there is. It’s easy to follow in footsteps, but to slog through twenty inches of snow all alone, with no real idea where you’re going, that’s nearly impossible!

And Rickie Lee’s got an artist’s mentality. She hangs with Tom Waits and Chuck E. Weiss and then she doesn’t. When it no longer works, she moves on. Constantly, throughout her life. And she knows she’s no longer in the mainstream, sometimes she can’t even get a backstage pass, but that doesn’t bother her.

So, the traditional male rock book is a few pages about their upbringing, then how they made the records and tales of the road, with a little dope thrown in for good measure. Rickie admits she got hooked on heroin for three years, but since then she’s been clean. And she ain’t dropping names, she’s telling her story, her real story.

And you know she wrote it. Because of the style.

And it’s imperfect. Sometimes the timeline doesn’t add up. But you keep reading anyway, believing it’s more like poetry. Rickie Lee is uneducated but smarter than seemingly everybody who’s got a Ph.D. in the arts. She forged her own way, she didn’t need to be told what to do, what hoops to jump through, that was anathema!

So the truth is I almost jumped up to write this screed multiple times while I was reading the book. But first I hadn’t finished it, and then it was so late at night and…

I’m not quite conveying the experience of reading “Last Chance Texaco.”

My expectations were low. Because these rock books are almost always a disappointment. I can’t even name a good one. Except for Kathy Valentine’s “All I Ever Wanted.” Isn’t it interesting that the two best rock books were written by women? And not prissy ones. Pinups. Not manufactured icons. I guess women can be more honest, they’re less worried how they’re perceived. Rickie Lee Jones doesn’t care at all how she’s perceived! She takes a swing at Annie Leibovitz even though the photographer barely figures in and Rickie Lee is not busy putting down everybody else.

So I’m reading “Last Chance Texaco” and I’m stunned to find someone who is on my page, who thinks the way I do, and that I did not expect. Do you know what it’s like not to fit in in this world? One in which the goal seems to repress your personality enough to have scores of friends with whom you can trade favors to look good and succeed? We live in a world where you can’t even say anything negative! Oh, don’t tell me about social media, when it comes to business diss the powers that be at your peril. When they say you’ll never work in this town again…the streets are littered with people who got a toehold and then lost it. You need to kiss ass to get in and stay in. Sure, there are exceptions, like there are to every rule, then again, it’s the exceptions we’re drawn to.

I mean who are we drawn to in today’s musical landscape? The wet behind the ears Billie Eilish with a manufactured look who can barely sing?

Or Ariana Grande who can only sing?

Never mind the rappers looking to test limits for publicity.

The emperor ain’t wearing many clothes, if any at all, but everybody has bought in to the paradigm, for economic success.

But not Rickie Lee Jones. Not so many who grew up in that age and were influenced by the thinking of artists back in that era.

“Last Chance Texaco” is a personal read. Just you and the page. And you’ll love being in the cocoon. And even when she makes it Rickie Lee is still trying to figure it out, after betrayals, making her own mistakes, but she soldiers on.

If you just want to read history, there’s probably a better place. As a matter of fact, almost all of the book takes place before Rickie Lee even makes it. This is not an album by album paint-by-numbers concoction. This is the story of a person, with a life, whose uniqueness aligned with the general public and then did not. Someone who didn’t change herself to stay on the ride of fame and fortune.

Nothing I write here can equal the experience of reading “Last Chance Texaco.” I’d stop by and fill up, because this might be the last chance you get to find out how it really was, growing up when music meant everything, and was worth dedicating your life to.

P.S. I did not read “Last Chance Texaco” for lessons, but I kept coming across wisdom and I want to share some of it here.

“She was a bully and bullies can only eat the fearful.”

All the parents complaining about the bullying of their kids don’t realize they need to stand down and shut up. There are bullies throughout life, and if you don’t learn how to deal with them at a young age, you’re going to be hurt by them later. They prey on your fear. Stand up to them and they move on.

“‘The Lew King Show’ was my first lesson in the dark corridors of the music biz, where favors are exchanged and sins offered up as collateral.”

“…plus the many songs that are only sung in childhood but are remembered by a few adults whose hearts keep a piece of the enchantment of their youth.”

She’s talking about the early years, being on the playground, she’s not talking about the hit parade, but those songs you sing in school. Like ‘Song of the Volga Boatmen’ and ‘Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree.'” Amazing how they go through my brain on a regular basis.

“He needed more to life than survival.”

Bingo! This is it. Not only do you want more, but do you want what satisfies you as opposed to what is safe.

“Dad is about living right now, having some nice things, meeting interesting people.”

My eyes bugged out. This is what it’s all about, the interesting people! Learning where they came from, what they have to say, these interactions are more satisfying than any possession.

“I knew better than to ask twice.”

The couples therapist we see constantly wonders why I never ask again. If you did so in my family, you were hit, abused physically and mentally, you learned to hold your tongue.

“I would never be the ‘seamstress for the band’ – I was the band.”

Not that my parents ever told me this. Somebody was always better. But the shrink I saw in the seventies told me my dream of being an A&R man was specious, why not be president of the label? I still don’t think I’m good enough. And it wasn’t until maybe two years ago that I realized everybody else was just normal, my mother always told me they were better and who was I to think I could compete? Never mind their opinion ruling.

“It’s a great moment when the underdog becomes the alpha dog for the same reason she was once the ‘ugly duckling.'”

Rickie Lee is called ugly, and it hurts. Today your looks are a key element of your success, you can’t even get your foot in the door if you’re not beautiful.

“The Beatles were the source, the holy miracle that gave rise to the religion of the new hippie culture. None that came before them (or after) had the Beatles spark that could inspire an entire generation to devote themselves to music as their personal salvation.”

You had to be there to understand.

“Perhaps we grow out of people like we grow out of shoes. They become uncomfortable, too loose or too tight. We remember how much we liked them at first, but now they just don’t fit. There is no use saying hello backstage. We would not remember why it had ever mattered so much. A sad glance, just enough to break the heart. No, best leave it lie where it fell. It was good, our journey together, but then we crossed a bridge, and it was over.”

You think friendship is supposed to last forever. I’ve wrestled with this. But people and situations change.

“More goes into the words than what you intend.”

Your subconscious adds layers you’re not even aware of.

“In the lower echelons, little favors mean everything. Respect is currency.”

Thank the stagehands and they never forget you.

“Things had been getting better, so when I fell, I fell further. It seemed as if they would never go my way. Getting closer to the mountain had made the mountaintop seems unreachable. What had I been thinking? Who did I think I was?”

Artists have self-doubt. If you’ve got none, you’re not an artist. Also, artists have a hard time keeping perspective, they can’t see what they’ve already gained, the perch they are on.

“My deepest emotions are universal; the further inside myself I go, the closer I am to mankind. When I sing, you can hear your own teardrops falling on my windowsill.”

I’ve been telling songwriters, prose writers, this for years. The personal is universal! But somehow they think by trying to appeal to everybody they can reach everybody, wrong. That’s why “Last Chance Texaco” is so good, it’s not written worried about audience perception, you can relate to Rickie Lee’s personal feelings.

“But even the greatest moments of life simply slide off our skin with the lightness of fairy dust. They are wonderful but do not have weight. The greatest moments of life don’t embed like the hurts of sadness and tragedy.”

Win the gold medal and you’re elated today. But tomorrow? And you can remember the bad review, the loss from twenty years ago, and feel it nearly as deeply.

“If you’re broke you can’t get a free anything, but if you’ve got money, people give you everything for free.”

“…since I had learned from my mom to hide good things so nobody could take them.”

I don’t tell people about my victories, my triumphs, so I can own the good feeling. Others don’t have the right reaction, they don’t understand what the wins mean to me, or they undercut them, or even worse they ignore them. This was what it was like for me growing up.

“My first lesson in the complex ways money hammers friendship.”

It’s all hunky-dory and then you make it and those surrounding you…want some of what you’ve got, or resent you for having it.

“I had not yet learned that every single moment, every accomplishment, deserves a hallelujah and a smile to celebrate the here and now of it (that is like nowhere else). But when it’s over, well, it’s done.”

The good feelings never last. They fade and become myths, you’re not even sure you experienced them.

“It has always been hard for me to wait out anger. The unresolved is painful.”

The waiting is the hardest part. We’re all looking for resolution. We all have varying degrees to which we can handle the lack of resolution. My fuse used to be very short, it’s gotten longer, but not by a whole hell of a lot.

“If an act insists on not changing and making the music audience come to them they can end up an oldies act.”

Many people might come to see you, but you’ll never have another hit and you’ll dread singing the same damn songs over and over every damn night.

“Show business is the business of showing your life to the whole wide world.”

Know that up front. And he or she who shows the most has the best odds of connecting with the public.

“Fame was never meant for the fifteen-minute brand. This troubadour life is only for the fiercest hearts, only for those vessels that can be broken to smithereens and still keep beating out the rhythm for a new song.”

Lewis Hamilton is one of the most fit athletes on the planet.

Today the Formula 1 race was in Budapest. That’s Hungary in case you didn’t know. Not that I could have pulled it out of my ass. And when they showed an aerial picture of the Danube running through town, it all came together, like in BLUE DANUBE? These tidbits of information are buried in our brains, only to surface at unexpected moments, knitting together stories heretofore unknown.

So the truth is if you watch Formula 1 two things happen. You want to travel, go everywhere, and you want to go out and participate in sports.

As for the activity effect, that’s not limited to car racing. I had the same feeling after watching “Wide World of Sports.” When it ended, we’d go outside and throw the football, we’d heat up our bodies and drink up the atmosphere. And although it’s true I’d rather read than talk to most people, being out in the elements and being physical heats up not only your body but your mind.

As for travel…

I subscribe to skiing and travel sites on Instagram. I rarely post, but I love looking at the pictures from around the world. I’ve long loved trekkingtoes, but yesterday I came across earthbestshots and not only was I mesmerized, I longed to get on a plane to go anywhere! Anywhere that was different from here. That’s the thrill. Knowing that people thousands of miles away in a completely different environment live full lives in a world equal to our own, it’s stimulating and exciting.

Now if you haven’t yet watched today’s race on the DVR you can stop right here. But if you already did, if you don’t follow Formula 1 at all, let me say there was a major crack-up on the very first turn, a bunch of cars were eliminated and Max Verstappen’s car was damaged and Lewis Hamilton emerged unscathed, far ahead of the field.

And the Hamilton/Verstappen rivalry has ben the talk of the circuit for the last two weeks, after their collision at Silverstone. I don’t care which side you take, but what bugged me was Christian Horner, Mr. Ginger Spice, continuing to complain about it. Even Max O.D.’ed on the questions, preferring just to race. But everybody in life is just looking for that edge, they’re working the refs, what ever happened to  sportsmanship, gracious losers? Those seem to have disappeared with the sixties.

But that’s why I like Lewis Hamilton. He is always gracious, he is a good sportsman, he’s the opposite of so many lauded athletes.

But he drives the best car, a Mercedes. Red Bull was faster earlier in the season, but it looks like Mercedes made some tweaks and…

Valterri Bottas rear-ended Lando Norris, who hit Verstappen and then Valterri ended up running into Sergio Perez, taking him out of the race. Ultimately Bottas got a penalty, to be incurred in the next race, but the bottom line is Bottas’s Mercedes and Perez’s Red Bull were out, and Verstappen’s Red Bull was damaged.

And then they halted the race.

And in the time the driving was stopped, so did the rain. Such that when the race began again, everybody but Hamilton, the leader, came in for new tires, slicks, which are faster than the rain tires Hamilton was still on.

So Hamilton came in on the next lap and went from first to fourteenth, from ahead to behind, because you lose on average twenty seconds during a pit stop.

And then Lewis started catching up. There were still sixty plus laps left of this seventy lap race. And, as stated earlier, he had the fastest car.

But he had to battle Fernando Alonso for fourth, who was in a slower car but displayed incredible defensive maneuvers, and after finally passing Alonso and then Carlos Sainz, Hamilton ended up in third.

Do we care about anyone who does not win?

Yes, when there’s an annual driver’s championship, and a manufacturer’s too.

So ever since Liberty took over Formula 1 the operation has been lifted up to the forefront of international sports. It’s been professionalized. Previously, Bernie Ecclestone ran it with an iron fist, and made money, but he was so busy cutting corners he wouldn’t invest in making the sport bigger.

I was listening to a ski racing podcast last night and it was mentioned that a former executive at Head was the new head of the F.I.S. And he wants to bring the sport into the twenty first century. There are too many legacy elements holding it back. Like TV rights parceled out to the countries that hold the races. Progress happens. And if you’re not constantly looking over the horizon, reinventing yourself, you get left behind. On top today, beaten and forgotten tomorrow.

So, when the race is over, they talk to the drivers. Formula 1 is a cornucopia of information. Every car has a camera, every driver has a mic and so much data/information is exhibited to the public.

But something was weird here.

Esteban Ocon, the winner, was so giddy as to barely be able to talk, it was his first ever Formula 1 victory.

Sebastian Vettel, a former World Drivers’ Champion, finished second. In an Aston Martin. Which previously had been seen as less than competitive, a second-tier car in a sport where most of the action seems to reside in the second tier, since Hamilton has run away with the races for years. Vettel was smiling, he was happy, but he was far from ecstatic. Maybe it was his German heritage, maybe it just wasn’t that big a deal to him.

And then came Hamilton.

They’re talking to him and he’s not saying much. I figure internally he’s angry. Strategy kept him from winning. He wants to win, he’s not happy with third place. But although having a flat affect, he was congratulating Ocon, like I said, he’s not a sore sport. But he wasn’t saying much, he was different from how he normally is. I chalked it up to the less than spectacular result, after all winning not only gives you the glory, but the points.

And then they have the podium ritual. You know, the anthem and the passing out of trophies and…

Hamilton comes to the stage drinking. I wondered if it was a beer. But hi-def is so good you can see it’s water.

And then after the trophies are passed out, everybody involved, the three drivers and the representative of the manufacturer of the winning car, all have giant bottles of champagne. And they shake them and spray them. And Ocon is covered in fizz. But Hamilton is hanging back. He’s still standing on the podium when no one else is. Finally he shakes his champagne bottle, but he only squirts a little bit, a tiny spray. Ultimately Vettel takes a big swig from his bottle, Hamilton just a tiny one, and I’m wondering…does he not drink? Lewis seems so passive. He seems so tired.

But a Formula 1 race is grueling. And he came from the back of the pack to third and that’s a lot of hard driving and strategy, but no other driver seems so knackered. And he’s bending from the waist and he seems to have a problem getting air and…

Unlike too many outfits, Formula 1 has an incredible website, formula1.com, which updates constantly and gives you unbiased information so good you almost don’t even need to watch the race.

And I waited until after the race was over to check my device. I was fearful someone would tweet or e-mail me the result and therefore ruin my watching experience.

And first I checked Twitter. There were endless updates. Including that Hamilton had been taken to the doctor.

Huh? I mean he wasn’t in an accident. What exactly was wrong with him?

Well, I went to the Formula 1 site and read: 

“Lewis Hamilton saw his Mercedes team doctor after fighting back to second in the Hungarian Grand Prix, with his team saying he was ‘suffering from fatigue and mild dizziness’ and Hamilton himself later revealing he’d had blurred vision while on the podium.”

Whoa, that’s a mistake, right? I mean I watched, Hamilton came in THIRD! It really bugs me when they have low level employees working the website, how can we rely on the data? (Your website is your front door and must always be up-to-date and correct, you’d be stunned who relies on it, don’t sacrifice your credibility for stupid mistakes.)

But just making sure as I’m writing this screed I found this other story on formula1.com, posted since the race ended so many hours ago:

“Vettel loses second-place finish in Hungary after disqualification for fuel sample issue”: https://f1.com/3idch3w

It’s a sport of rules, and although too many want to argue them, substitute their feelings for those of the stewards, in this case Vettel was penalized for not having the necessary liter of fuel at the end of the race.

So, Hamilton is now second.

But, that’s not why I’m writing this. Back to Hamilton’s fatigue. The above quote is from an article entitled:

“Hamilton says he’s still suffering effects of Covid as he’s treated for ‘fatigue and dizziness’ after gruelling run to third in Hungary”: https://f1.com/2VtofNG

Hamilton got Covid at the end of last year.

This is what he had to say today:

“‘I’m ok, had real big dizziness and everything got a bit blurry on the podium. I’ve been fighting all year really with staying healthy after what happened at the end of last year and it’s still, it’s a battle.

I haven’t spoken to anyone about it but I think (the effects of Covid are) lingering. I remember the effects of when I had it and training has been different since then. The level of fatigue you get is different and it’s a real challenge.

I continue to train and prepare the best way I can. Today, who knows what it is? Maybe it’s hydration, I don’t know, but I’ve definitely not had this experience. Had something similar at Silverstone but this is way worse.'”

One of the wankers who won’t get the vaccine, even though she’s in the target demo, over sixty five, said worse case scenario she’d get Covid and recover, no big deal. But if Lewis Hamilton, one of the fittest men on the planet, is still being affected eight months later, what are her odds? Not good!

But she’s wearing a mask everywhere!

But then there were those women on cnn.com who were hypervigilant, said they wore their masks everywhere, but they got it. And we can question how vigilant they really were, but when you dive down it turns out almost no one is that vigilant, and you can catch the Delta variant in a matter of moments, it’s as transmissible as chicken pox!

Lisa’s sister still has not fully regained her taste and smell. Her mother is still fatigued. They caught the virus thirteen months ago, they survived but Lisa’s father did not.

It never affects you, you believe you’re immune.

As far as someone else having a problem? Keep telling yourself how healthy you are, how nothing will happen to you. Because you’re superior to Lewis Hamilton?

Another thing about Formula 1 is they wear masks. Everybody. And although sometimes people let the mask slide down from their nose, at least there’s an edict and everyone’s trying, unlike in our own House of Representatives…THEY DON’T NEED NO STINKIN’ MASKS!

But it’s not only about you, it’s about us too. You get it and infect us. Some of whom got the shot but got no antibodies, like me.

But that’s not what you’re thinking about, you’re only thinking about yourself.

And at this late date there is still tons of misinformation. The truth can’t supersede falsehood and the reality is most people now have their own private truth, backed up by some cockamamie information they found online.

I’d say to have Lewis Hamilton do testimonials, ads, but the truth is the people Formula 1 appeals to have already gotten the message, Europe has better vaccination rates than the U.S! And there are other countries that just need more vaccines. But Arkansas has to throw out tens of thousands of expired doses because too many of the state’s residents prefer to play Russian roulette.

Get one of those six bullets and you die. Like those odds? I’d never play, not with the almost certain risk of a fatal result.

And, like Lewis Hamilton with Covid-19, you might not die as a result of getting it, but you may be hobbled in a world where no one other than your family and friends care if you die or are crippled. And then these same people who don’t want their “freedom” to be impinged beg to be compensated by the government. Is your head spinning yet?

Not that anything I write here will change anybody’s mind. That’s the truth, most of the unvaccinated are never ever going to get the shot unless they’re held down against their will and jabbed. Which would be the worst crisis of their lifetime, being saved from a potentially lethal virus!

But the problem is the elites are overeducated and think they know better.

Yes, sometimes they do.

Instead of rejecting science, living in a box, you’d be better off hoovering up information, seeing how the winners of this world make it and survive. I mean you want low taxes on the rich so when you make it you’ll have a financial advantage, why not emulate other behaviors of the elite?

But you’d rather rationalize.

Looks like we’ve got creeping vaccine passport requirements. It’s only going to get tighter. Let’s see if you can live without going to a restaurant, or flying on a plane to see grandma, never mind going to a concert

And when you’re experiencing fatigue from the virus you won’t have a team doctor to check you out instantly. It’s going to cost you as the mistrusted medical edifice rakes in profits that you feel must be maintained because otherwise we have socialism, medical care for everybody, and that can’t happen.

Meanwhile, they’re laughing in the rest of the world. While DeSantis keeps insisting his constituents have a right to die.

Oh, what a country!  

Patrick Spence is the CEO of Sonos. We discuss the creation of products, the marketing thereof, the company’s place in the landscape as well as Patrick’s history at BlackBerry!

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/patrick-spence/id1316200737?i=1000530385254

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Streaming is the best thing that ever happened to David Crosby because with the magic of a click, the movement of a finger, you can hear his exquisite new track “I Won’t Stay for Long.”

This guy has a terrible reputation. As someone who won’t play by the rules. You know the rules, don’t you? You hold your tongue, are humble and self-deprecating because the key to life is getting along and using the ensuing relationships to your advantage.

But not David Crosby. He can’t hold his tongue. After all these years he’s incorrigible, he told me he can’t help himself. Then again, when you’re almost eighty years old are you really interested in changing?

That’s right, August 14th. And Crosby looks it. Which is refreshing. He’s got those two shocks of white hair stumbling out of the sides of his head, he’s had no plastic surgery, up close and personal he’s got liver spots, but beneath the skin he’s an authentic artist.

Who is difficult.

Then again, the greatest artists always are. They’ve got to do it their way, they need to get their art down unfiltered, and if you create people are always telling you how to do it, but the artist knows best. Oh, you can shave off the rough edges for commercial success, but that’s not Crosby’s goal in recording, he hears songs in his head and he’s got to get them down.

And are you paying attention?

Probably not. The story is all about his wars with Neil Young and Graham Nash. He’s in a bind re Neil, having dissed his now wife Daryl Hannah. This is a friend dilemma. Do you tell them about your experience or squelch your thoughts? And the truth is love is always the strongest bond. Think of all the acts that break up based on love relationships, and then there are divorces and the act is back together (can you say Guns N’ Roses?)

Not that I want to apologize for Crosby. He’s every bit as difficult as the legend. If he doesn’t want to talk about something he locks eyes and intimidates you. You can argue or change the subject to what he wants to talk about. Which is his just released new album “For Free.”

WHO CARES!

We’ve heard this mantra again and again, my latest work is my best, I’m at my peak, and then you listen to the music, scratch your head and stop listening. Hell, you can count on two hands the great work done by classic rock artists in the twenty first century. But David Crosby’s “For Free” is one of them. It’s not perfect throughout, some tracks resonate more than others, but “I Won’t Stay for Long” is just as good as he says it is.

The music Crosby is making is out of time, or perfectly in time, depending upon your perspective. It’s only about the music, Crosby ain’t a brand, no corporation wants to tie up with this guy and Crosby probably wouldn’t take the money anyway. Then again, you get old enough and you’re no longer worried about credibility, you come to realize you’re not going to be here forever, you’re going to be forgotten so…

So if you throw off all the trappings, all the expectations, maybe you have a chance of achieving something great, grasping the brass rail once again.

Then again, Crosby still has his voice, he sounds as good as ever, whereas seemingly everybody else’s voice has suffered the ravages of age, there’s been attrition.

And Crosby has one of the sweetest voices ever, in an era that doesn’t even consider melody, where subtlety is sacrificed, it’s all about being in your face grabbing for attention, but that’s not what Crosby is doing on “I Won’t Stay for Long,” on the entire new album “For Free.” You should be able to drop the needle and be drawn in, the music should be enough to not only gain your attention but keep it, no dancing, no diversion should be necessary, the track should stand on its lonesome, and if it’s great you don’t want to lose the mood it’s created, you want to hear it again and again.

This is not what we expected. As a matter of fact, we expect nothing from our classic rock faves other than to get on stage and play the hits of yore. They’re living jukeboxes, some acts don’t even have any original members, it’s about the songs, but one thing is for sure “For Free” is about David Crosby.

And this ain’t Crosby, Stills & Nash, never mind Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young or Crosby & Nash, it’s just David Crosby, previously seen as the weakest link he’s now triumphing. It’s all him.

So he told me he’s too old to go back on the road, it’s just too difficult. Who knows if this will be the case once covid fully fades. Oh yes, he’s been vaccinated, because one thing is for sure, David Crosby is smart and he’s not afraid of owning his position, vocalizing it. There are those sixties values, he’s not afraid of losing fans, he’s not running a business, he’s creating art!

You can tell from the opening track, “River Rise,” with its optimism, never mind the Michael McDonald vocals.

And “Rodriguez for a Night” is the new Steely Dan track you’ve been waiting to hear that has not been forthcoming, yes, the lyrics were written by Donald Fagen, but it’s not only the words but the groove, the instrumentation, “Rodriguez for a Night” hearkens back to that sound that stood alone, and still does.

But really it’s all about the closing cut, “I Won’t Stay for Long.”

“I’m standing on the porch

Like it’s the edge of a cliff”

Crosby is up front and center. He’s at the school assembly, doing a solo. Captivating the audience, enthralling them, especially when his voice goes up, when he hits the higher notes with emphasis.

“I’ve got a place of my own

A little slice”

It’s all personal. We’re always looking for connection, we only need one person, but we live inside our brains and oftentimes it’s only music that has a chance of resonating, can make us feel less alone, because it’s human, it breathes, it reflects life.

“I just need to be close today

I need to be with you today”

That’s what our music represented. Far different from what is being sold today. The artists stood apart, from the establishment and corporations, they were middle class denizens looking at the world for themselves and dropping their wisdom upon the rest of us. The music was our school and compass. We followed it, we needed to get closer, that’s why all those people went to Woodstock, why all those people needed to go to shows, to get closer!

And if you can remember those days, and fewer and fewer of us can, you’re on the edge of the abyss. So much of what you put faith in is unsatisfying, nearly worthless, possessions, he with the most toys does not win. Only a record can get us through, if only there were a new record.

“I don’t know if I’m dying or about to be born”

You get old enough and no one cares what you think, even though you’ve gathered so much wisdom. You want to feel so alive, but so many of your contemporaries have surrendered, they’re nearly dead, in spirit if not body.

So I know you’ve given up on new music. And if you look at the anemic physical album sales you know that it’s not only oldsters who have given up. Do you really want to lay down ten bucks plus for a CD with nowhere to play it, never mind not wanting to ultimately listen to it, it being so inferior to what came before, what you remember.

Which is why streaming is such a bonus. Crosby won’t make any real dough on YouTube or Spotify, but he can be heard, and that’s what an artist really wants, for people to experience their art, which is why if you’re an artist beware of paywalls.

So now it costs you nothing to listen to David Crosby’s “I Won’t Stay for Long,” you’ve only got to click.

And you should.

And you will tell everybody you know about it, because it’s more than refreshing, it’s manna from heaven.

Check it out.