1

“Really don’t mind if you sit this one out”

Actually people have been sitting Jethro Tull out for decades. Ian Anderson is not a warm character, he kept changing the band’s members and then he stole Metallica’s Grammy through no fault of his own, the Grammy voters erred, but the stink is, unfairly, upon the group.

Jethro Tull emerged in 1968, when singles no longer mattered. Sure, months after the release of “Disraeli Gears,” after tons of FM airplay, “Sunshine of Your Love” crossed over to AM, but Jimi Hendrix never did, most of the acts with cred today never did.

And then Tull changed sounds. I won’t say it was a completely different band, but “This Was,” the debut, definitely derived from what came before, i.e. the blues, whereas the new band with its new album, “Stand Up,” was the Jethro Tull you know today, sui generis.

Not that “Stand Up,” the band’s best album, got a ton of radio play. This was when we listened to the radio to know what to buy, to know what to play at home. Cross that with press and word of mouth and there were tons of bands that had a place in the public consciousness that most people had never heard of, that were not really exposed much on the airwaves. There was a schism in listening, those in the know, the explorers, and those who were being led by the machine, then again, the machine back then was different from the one today. The Beatles had demonstrated that there was much more money in music recordings than ever previously thought, by a multiple. Same deal with concerts. But it took years for ticket prices to reach into the stratosphere, they didn’t really reach market value until the twenty first century and Napster, when acts could no longer depend upon recording income.

Not that there were any scalpers back then, not in most markets, no StubHub to buy and sell tickets right up to the moment the curtain, if there was one, was raised. You lined up, that’s how you got your tickets, and most shows sold out, at least the ones you had to line up for.

But then came 1970’s “Benefit” and the backlash began, finally Tull was getting radio play, just as FM was reaching into the hinterlands, and those who’d been there before were angry that the band’s sound was more commercial, easier to get, more acceptable.

That’s when I got in. With “To Cry You A Song.” A riff on riff rock. You only had to hear it once to get it. With its bass line and spacy vocal. Never forget, the critics, the early adopters, always think they’re better than the audience, they even decried Led Zeppelin and the Doors. If they’re just like the listener, how can they feel good about themselves?

But just like the previous Tull albums, “Benefit” was eminently playable, you didn’t have to lift the needle to skip tracks, you could let a side play through. And I must profess that I liked the second side best, the one that opened with “To Cry You a Song.”

“A Time for Everything” was a jaunt through the hills, you immediately locked on and became animated.

And “Inside” contained the opposite ethos from today:

“I’m sitting on the corner feeling glad
Got no money coming in, but I can’t be sad”

Then again, this was when you could make it on minimum wage, when you could depend on the government for a safety net.

And the side-ender, “Sossity: You’re a Woman”…it was dreamy, it hearkened back to “Stand Up,” but the critics had already decided Jethro Tull had jumped the shark.

And then came “Aqualung.”

Actually, first came “My God,” that’s what radio played first, in advance of the album release if you were in the right market. This fit right into the oeuvre, at the end of the free-format era, a seven minute exploration that was dark and sometimes heavy, both in sound and meaning.

“My God” opened side two.

The title track opened side one. And it was instantly embraced across the land. Now the message was clear, it was FM that counted, that’s what America’s youth was tuning into, and like “To Cry You a Song,” “Aqualung” had a heavy bass line, and had a pseudo-heavy meaning, that was seen as pretentious, but this was back when most of the public was way behind New York and Los Angeles, where the critics lived.

But it didn’t stop with “My God” and “Aqualung.” “Cross-Eyed Mary” was ubiquitous, but even more you heard “Locomotive Breath,” you still hear “Locomotive Breath.” And “Hymn 43” and “Mother Goose” and… Jethro Tull had crossed over. First they were an insiders’ band, now they were everybody’s band.

Then came “Thick as a Brick.”

2

I needed to hear Jethro Tull. Happens every once in a while, it’s the only thing that will satiate me, it takes me to another place, not one of depression, but of hope, where I’m alone in my identity and it’s just fine.

Whether I start with “Stand Up” or “Benefit” depends on my mood. If I need soothing, I begin with “Stand Up.” If I need to be exuberant, if I need music to ride shotgun against this unfair world, I play “Benefit.”

This time I started with “Benefit.”

And I forgot one other reason I love listening to Tull today, why it calls out to me, it’s the Steven Wilson remixes. Normally I’m against remixing, it’s sacrilegious, you don’t want to change the sound of classic albums, it’d be like some horror movie where someone rearranged your memories, which are set in stone. But somehow Wilson just manages to scrape away all the detritus to allow all the instruments to shine through, the remixes are positively revelatory, no matter what playback and listening system you’re using. They’re astounding. Suddenly, “To Cry You A Song” is not a morass of sound, but two distinct channels, oftentimes with separate guitars in each, you feel like you’re in the studio, you’re closer than you’ve ever been.

And at this point, my favorite track on “Benefit” is the aforementioned “A Time for Everything,” which there certainly no longer is, as I get older in this age of Covid. But that searing, incisive guitar, Martin Barre is never mentioned as one of the great guitarists, but he deserves to be.

But the first side of “Benefit” was not as rewarding as the second. It starts with “With You There to Help Me,” which is the opposite of a blistering Stones opener, rather it’s an invitation as to what is to come.

So I shifted to “Stand Up.” But the truth is “Stand Up” is darker than “Benefit,” it was bringing me down, it was depressing me, so I shifted to “This Was.” And unlike the later albums, “This Was” sounded like a period piece, it sounded like 1968, and that was creepy, I wasn’t nostalgic, I was looking to be propelled to a different dimension.

So I played “Thick as a Brick.”

This is the record that’s denigrated the most. Somehow people have forgotten “A Passion Play,” the opus which followed it, which is inferior. You see it’s easy to criticize those who test limits, who do something new, especially if you’re predisposed to laugh at the act to begin with.

After “A Passion Play,” Jethro Tull changed course. It returned to putting out albums with the traditional ten tunes or so, and radio and the public embraced this work. Tull was all over the radio, I’m sure you remember “Bungle in the Jungle,” and they sold out arenas everywhere, and when this arc finally ran its course, the band had an unsuspected comeback with “Crest of a Knave,” this is the album that won that Grammy back in 1989. And it certainly wasn’t metal, but it truly was a comeback. “Farm on the Freeway” could have been on any of the big hit albums, and radio played it incessantly, along with the four other singles the label released from the album. And that’s another thing, let’s never forget that Tull built Chrysalis, no band, no label.

And the truth is so many acts were jealous, they were done. They’d had their hits, they were already on the oldies circuit, how had the derided Jethro Tull come back? Well, maybe it’s because Ian Anderson had a sense of melody.

But let’s go back to 1972, and “Thick as a Brick.”

There was heavy anticipation, after all “Aqualung” was a smash, and this was back in the era where you bought the album after the hit unheard, without asking any questions, without knowing much about it. And when you dropped the needle, and that’s how we listened to it, this was not only before CDs, but cassettes, although 8-tracks had some penetration, you were immediately invited in. A sweet acoustic guitar from over the hills and then Ian’s vocal and flute being the pied piper that kept you listening. And listen you did. Because you’d bought it, and you didn’t own much, and what you invested your money in you played over and over until you liked it.

Today, on streaming services, they say there are eight songs on the LP, but that’s not how it was back in ’72. There was the first side and the second. Just one continuous groove on each side, you couldn’t drop the needle for a specific track, you had to listen all the way through.

And what an adventure it was. The sound changed. There were movements. Alternately heaviness and sweetness.

Of course FM played an excerpt. Unlike with “A Passion Play.” But really “Thick as a Brick” was made for home listening. Over and over again.

As for the lyrics…they didn’t seem to matter. Sure, someone was thick as a brick, a basic concept, but where was the band going?

One thing was for sure, they didn’t care where anybody else was going. Not only did no one sound like Tull, no one was making albums with one song only. It was a risk, and they pulled it off. This was quite different from the commerce of the late seventies and eighties, where albums were labored over for a year and then singles were dripped out to the public over a period of years, trying to reach the largest audience possible.

“Thick as a Brick” was not made for newbies, but fans. And Tull certainly had them. To the point where “Thick as a Brick” was just seen as another element of the canon.

But then there was the packaging. This was in the era if you didn’t have a gatefold cover you were nobody. But there was more than the gatefold, the album resembled nothing so much as an entire newspaper. All referring to the themes in the album. There was a whole universe, you could listen and read, you could belong. You didn’t purchase “Thick as a Brick” on a whim, but one thing was for sure, if you purchased it you dove deep, there was so much information to be gleaned.

And by this time, 1972, it was the big stereo age, not made fun of until “Fast Times at Ridgemont High” in 1982. You saved your pennies, you worked menial jobs just to save enough money for the best stereo you could buy. People discussed not only speaker and amplifier brands, but cartridges, what stew of ingredients was going to reveal the best sound, so you could literally go inside the music.

That era has never returned. First it was overtaken by cheap all-in-ones, which were inherently crappy. And then boom boxes. And then headphones. To the point where today we’re used to bad sound, and the bass in recordings is turned up because otherwise it would go unheard, no one has a 12″ woofer, and not many have a subwoofer either. Music is not stationary, it’s listened to on the move, and it’s background.

Now since it was only one long song it’s not like you could run around singing the songs in your head, never mind out loud. About all you could reproduce was the above words, “Really don’t mind if you sit this one out…” But every time you listened to the LP, you learned more, more emerged, because it was quite a chunk to digest all at one time. And sometimes the sound washed over you, and then other times it made your ears prick up.

So I’m in front of the computer, listening to “Thick as a Brick.” Working. I can only really concentrate on what’s on the screen if I know the music by heart, which is certainly the case with “Thick as a Brick.” Still, elements still sounded new.

“I’ve come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways
My father was a man of power whom everyone obeyed”

This was a surprise, right there in the first side, when Tull seemed to be in a long instrumental adventure, suddenly there was this lyrical couplet that sounded straight out of a hit song, and then the band went back into its adventure, the verse was almost a wink to the audience, showing that the players were still aware you were there, were you listening?

And let’s never forget the dynamics. The track would go from exceedingly loud and in-your-face to quite quiet, it resembled nothing so much as classical music, which we’d all been exposed to, at home and in school. This was in our wheelhouse.

The second side is darker. Cathedral-like at first. The riff sounding like clarion bells. And then comes the gravitas:

“The poet and the wise man stand
Behind the gun, behind the gun
And signal for the crack of dawn
Light the sun, light the sun”

The band is still breaking ground, long after it’s made its point, it’s still exploring, this is an entire movie, an opera.

And then there’s another movement, there’s a sense of majesty. There’s action taking place.

“So come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear”

This was light years more interesting than what was happening in class, where aged professors taught us the lessons of history, where it was anathema to live in the now.

So the track is racing along and then it goes into a march.

“So come on ye childhood heroes
Won’t you rise up from the pages
Of your comic books, your super-crooks
And show us all the way
Well make your will and testament
Won’t you join your local government
We’ll have Superman for president
Let Robin save the day”

Comic books? Superman and Robin? How did we go from the moors to the present-day, how did we go from darkness to light?

But then comes the surprises. The string flourishes, sounding closer to a ballet than rock. And some squealing keyboards.

And then that acoustic guitar intro comes back once again, for a final time:

“So you ride yourselves over the fields
As you make your animal deals
And your wise men don’t know how it feels
To be thick as a brick”

Whew, how did he do that? How did he bring us back to where we began, when we least expected it. This was an aural thrill ride superior to anything at an amusement park. A ride built for one, that we all took individually, in houses and burgs throughout the planet. This was otherworldly, it fit no norms, the album came on a round platter, but that was about it.

And when the LP quietly ended, when you were set down gently back in your chair, with your feet on the ground, you were left in silence, with only your thoughts, pondering what you’d just been through. You hesitated to flip the album over, you weren’t quite ready for a breaking of the mood.

3

Chances are many deriding Jethro Tull listened to the band in its heyday. But whatever cool the band had evaporated after the second LP, so these arbiters of cool reject the act, if for no other reason they’re fearful of being judged.

And Chrysalis shifted to Blondie and Pat Benatar and was ultimately sold and today it’s all ancient history.

Unless you were there. You drop the needle, press play, and you’re brought right back. Steven Wilson has restored the sound to pristine brightness and depth. It’s all there on wax, on tape, in the files, essentially the same as it ever was, in an era where almost nothing is, especially yourself.

And it’s not of a time, because Jethro Tull was never part of the scene, being outside it the music is as fresh today as it was yesterday.

Then again, there was context, evolution. If you were alive in the era you knew the band’s roots, you knew where it came from, you were prepared for where it was going. But with no reference points, it’s somewhat hard for the younger generations to understand. The music is more comprehensible than the finally anointed prog rock of Yes and its compatriots, but it still has not been accepted as worthy of comment, of renewal and exploration.

And with no champion it will remain this way. Until one day Ian Anderson dies and then everybody will come out of the woodwork and say how great he was, how majestic and singular the music he created was. Can’t we do this while he’s still alive?

It’s not exactly how I remember it.

Then again, I lived through it, and most of America did not. So they’ve got no idea what the sixties were really like, everything was up for grabs, even the country itself.

And the funny thing is just like fifty years ago, the oldsters are completely out of touch with the country, they want the safe candidate, in this case Joe Biden. Eugene McCarthy and Bernie Sanders energized the youth, but in ’68 most youngsters could not vote, today many are too disillusioned to do so, or are so busy trying to get famous on TikTok that they’ve got no time to.

I’m a Sorkin fan. It’s what everybody hates that I love about him. The rapid fire dialogue. He doesn’t waste any time. Whereas too many in today’s movie business focus on image and mood to the point the story itself takes a back seat.

And what is the story here?

Nominally it’s about the Chicago 7, but really it’s about today.

The youth were on one side and the oldsters were on the other. Some oldsters aligned with the youth, my parents certainly did, they were not conservative, they were aware of injustice, my mother protested and even though they didn’t listen to music, they saw all the challenging plays off Broadway, when that was still a thing, before the Great White Way was all about musicals based on movies to appeal to the unchallenged from out of state, to the point where a real play, covering real issues, can’t even make it to Broadway. Broadway is about money, not the changing of the culture. Then again, there are exceptions, in this case the twenty first century “Hair,’ in other words “Hamilton,” a rap musical, which spoke truth and became a bigger success than all the rest, because people resonate with truth, even though most creators shoot so much lower, because they don’t want to offend, they don’t want to turn off a potential customer.

So maybe it was fear of getting your ass shot off.

Then again, the military was the enemy, no one railed on about protecting the troops, thanking soldiers for their service, the cops were pigs and then the Iran/Contra crisis happened and everything flipped, nationalism ruled, you were either on the side of our country or you were a traitor. And the youth was split.

Then again, today there’s no middle class. It’s hard to make ends meet. So, you’ve got an elite with Ivy educations who don’t want to ruffle feathers because it will negatively impact their careers and a lower class, oftentimes uneducated, which can’t analyze and in too many cases is in search of pure hedonism, when it’s not scrounging for food, not trying to keep a roof over its head.

That’s a snapshot of America. Income inequality. The boomers protesting in this movie sold out and got comfortable, they left the revolution behind, and while they were partying like it was always 1999, the moral fabric, the glue of this country came apart and here we are.

Today it’s all about democracy. Do you want to keep it? That’s what a vote for Biden is for.

Yesterday it was about getting your ass shot off.

Let me see… What were the two biggest anxieties in the sixties and early seventies if you were a guy. One, that you might have to fight in Vietnam. Two, that your girlfriend might get pregnant and your life would change overnight, you’d have to grow up, get married and go to work.

But the war ended, thank the protesters, really. And then we got abortion rights and now it’s like we’re starting all over again, with a Supreme Court looking to eviscerate abortion, to the degree states have not done so already. But there is no war, only Covid-19, but maybe that’s similar.

Everybody was not against the war at first. It took years for public sentiment to switch. Because America was the greatest country in the world and our duty was to stand up to Communism, but then we started to wonder…were the Vietnamese really our enemy, did the Domino Theory have any validity, and was it really worth it to sacrifice tens of thousands in Southeast Asia?

We’ve already sacrificed many times that to Covid. But right now that’s getting a shrug. This won’t be forever, because the virus is not going away, as a matter of fact, it’s doubling-down, just like the government.

Belief in the system. That’s what the oldsters couldn’t fathom yesterday and today, people’s rejection of this. Do you believe in the system anymore? I hate to say that I do not. Especially in an era where Republicans have their own ballot boxes in California and the law can’t shut them down, the Republicans are like toddlers, saying MAKE ME!

But the real issue is whether the system can solve our problems. That’s Abbie Hoffman, i.e. Sacha Baron Cohen’s, big point in this flick. You can vote, but the problems remain. Joe Biden may save your health care, but he ain’t gonna do much about income inequality, because the people who voted him in, with their cash and their power, don’t want him to.

You may say I’m a dreamer. But as John Lennon sang, I’m not the only one.

So it was such a different era. What you’ll notice first is the lack of computers. How did we live without them? Forget wasting time on social media, today you expect all the world’s information to be available and instantly searchable, yesterday you went to the library, which contained relatively little and what was there was not that easy to find.

Not that we knew any better. That’s how long I’ve lived. I’ve seen life change completely to the point it’s de rigueur to the younger generation. Those kids in college today, they don’t even remember dialup! Computers always existed. As did cable TV, but maybe not streaming TV, Netflix.

Aaron Sorkin wanted “The Trial of the Chicago 7” to play before the election. Forget Covid, even if the movie was distributed theatrically, most people would not see it, but being on Netflix, my inbox is filling up about it, I watched it because I wanted to be part of the discussion, just like why I used to go to the movies until around 2005, when we collectively agreed the quality was on TV, with “The Sopranos,” which was better than anything in the theatre, then or now.

And essentially everybody has access to Netflix. Then again, I’ll get e-mail telling me no, that they haven’t even got internet access, it’s the devil. These people without smartphones are proud, they don’t realize they’re being left behind, have already been left behind.

So Sorkin knew distribution is king. And he wanted his flick where everybody could see it, essentially for free. You debate whether a movie is worth it, at the theatre or on pay-per-view, but if it’s part of the package, it feel free, even though you, or the person you’re stealing it from, is paying for Netflix every month. Then again, Netflix is cheaper than the price of admission to one movie, ain’t that a head-scratcher.

So we know what happened to everybody involved.

Bobby Seale got into barbecue.

Jerry Rubin was into finance and self-help.

Abbie Hoffman killed himself. He was out of time, there was nowhere for him to go, he was no longer needed, and unlike a musician he could not go on the road and play his greatest hits, so he checked out.

Rennie Davis and John Froines? How do I know they ended up nobodies? Because they came to speak at my college, which was out of the way and irrelevant, and how many people showed up to hear them? For Rennie it was about twenty five, for Froines it was ten or fifteen. It seems the prep school kids missed the sixties, or they were aligned with their parents’ conservative vision. And the public school kids were so busy trying to get into college that they had no idea what was happening in the outside world.

Dave Dellinger disappeared and we all know that Tom Hayden married Jane Fonda and then stepped out on her. What’s that old joke? Show me a beautiful woman and I’ll show you a guy who’s tired…

As for Lee Weiner, I don’t even remember he was included!

But I do remember the trial. Judge Julius Hoffman. He was laughable, but he had the power. Just like all those right wing judges Trump and his Senate cronies have installed. Have you been following this? District courts have been standing up for voter rights and then appeals courts, packed with the aforementioned judges, are striking them down. Even if Trump were to vacate office, the game would still be rigged. Especially with the Supreme Court, which canned the census, why?

As for the actors… Joseph Gordon-Levitt is the most believable. Then again, Richard Schultz was evil.

Sacha Baron Cohen got the points across, but not for a moment did you ever believe it was Abbie Hoffman, who was inherently unbelievable.

Eddie Redmayne? That was not Tom Hayden.

The actors are placeholders. And William Kunstler had more gravitas than he does in this movie. But the guy playing John Mitchell is just as evil as the real man and Michael Keaton almost steals the show as Ramsey Clark.

Oh, I forgot Frank Langella. Actually, Julius Hoffman was crazier than that. Langella was good, but Frank had been a leading man, Dracula, now he’s the old man, time has passed.

It most certainly has.

The difference between now and then is in the sixties the youth, the rebels, were optimistic, we truly believed we could change the country for the better.

Today’s Biden sales point is we need to get rid of Trump. That’s how far we’ve fallen. Pessimism reigns.

And so many reject education and science. Abbie/Sacha makes the point he went to Brandeis, and despite his clownish behavior, he ends up evidencing intelligence, he’s erudite and he wows those in attendance.

But they’re still convicted. Once again, if you believe in the system I’ve got a bridge to sell you. Being right in America ain’t that important, the key is to have the power, it’s who you know, so if you do get yourself in hot water you know who to call, someone who can get you out of a jam.

Do you know these people?

Probably not. You’ve been closed out. Or maybe you missed the memo, that there’s no lifetime employment anymore and if you’re not networking and moving ahead you’re falling behind, to your utmost detriment. Lose your job at fifty, even forty five or forty, good luck getting another one.

So, as you’ve read above, “The Trial of the Chicago 7” is food for thought.

But I wish you’d been there the first time around. When you had to read the newspaper to know what was going on. The network news was only half an hour long. Or the underground press. That’s how “Rolling Stone” started out. The Chicago 7 were testing limits for all of us, they were spearheading the future just like musicians, as Abbie/Sacha references re Ginger Baker.

So, movies end up becoming history. Accuracy is irrelevant, it’s just a matter of mindshare. And usually there’s no money in the past, so no one tries to set the record straight.

The trial was a circus. The 7 were pushing the envelope, the antics were incredible, you sat at home and wondered if they’d be convicted, and then what?

In this case they got out.

But now you don’t. Just ask all the African-Americans in jail for minor drug offenses.

We do live in a law and order country. There are cameras everywhere. And there are fewer murders and it’s much safer, despite what the right wants you to believe.

But ain’t that America, they want to make you afraid.

Especially of the government. Ramsey Clark stands up, but the point here is Trump and his cronies are immune to the legal system, they don’t show up, even if they’re called, the message is telegraphed loud and clear.

That’s why this movie was made. To let Sorkin make points about today, not yesteryear.

And sure, if you lived through it you’ll get nostalgic. But a lot of that is cinematography, the warm hues. Life is easier today, no doubt.

And the interesting thing is in the past six months we’ve seen spontaneous demonstrations. In larger size and with more intensity than anything we experienced in the sixties.

And that’s the question of today, what happens after November 3rd, no matter who wins.

Sorkin inserts right wing frat boys, who infiltrate the protest, but that’s not how it was, you had to go below the Mason-Dixon line to find any youngsters who were Republicans, at least in numbers. It was us versus them. The youth against the system.

Now it’s us against us. That’s what Trump played into, that’s what he’s amplified. The immigrants, your neighbors, the Jews, the Blacks, they’re messing with your life, they’re keeping you down The real enemies, like Trump and his cronies themselves, end up inviolate, as well as the corporations and fat cats who support them. Somehow, they’ve taken the focus off of them.

But one thing we know is the Democrats of yesteryear were not wimps. We can argue whether they wanted violence, but one thing is for sure, they wanted change, and they were willing to stand up for it, they did not only not trust the government, but the established players on the left either. Don’t forget, Mayor Daley was a Democrat.

So I recommend you watch “The Trial of the Chicago 7.” So you can be part of the discussion. It’s been a long time since America has been on the same page, exposed to the same info. And this is history, so if the right wants to complain…I don’t see how it can.

Food for thought.

Which you won’t get at the superhero movies Hollywood is lamenting it cannot distribute in theatres.

Streaming television saves the world. The internet certainly punted.

amzn.to/37isMX4

I wish I’d read this when I’d grown up, it would have answered so many questions!

I’m a big Curtis Sittenfeld fan. I started with “Prep.” I went to public school, but in college 45% of the students had come from prep schools. They were different. And you can’t explain them to people who didn’t experience them. The confidence, the laissez-faire attitude. They were polite on the outside and limit-testers on the inside. They seemed to be born to this station, whereas in public high school we grade-grubbed and competed and opened our college acceptance letters breathlessly.

But not every Sittenfeld book resonated. And I’ll be honest, the fact that she called herself “Curtis” bugged me. Her real name was “Elizabeth.” I had a hard time believing she’d grown up as “Curtis,” then again at Middlebury those prep school kids oftentimes had family names that were not their first, or first names that were not de rigueur, that in fact I’d never heard in the suburbs. Like “Tucker.” And “Brooke.” They’ve filtered down to the hoi polloi today, but they were nonexistent in the middle class of yore.

But I wasn’t interested in everything Sittenfeld wrote. Especially “American Wife,” the Laura Bush story without Laura Bush. As for her latest novel, “Rodham,” a reimagination of Hillary’s story…why? It seemed like an exercise to me. I mean Hillary had lived one life, wasn’t that enough?

But in the back of my mind I remembered “You Think It, I’ll Say It.” The best book I read in 2018, even though some of it had been published earlier, even though it was a short story collection.

I remember short stories from freshman English, in high school. There was a thick paperback, we read it first term. But short stories get a bad rap. Real writers write complete novels, right? And under the best of circumstances short stories end and you’re left hanging, you want more but there is none.

But “You Think It, I’ll Say It”… Sure, you might be left hanging, but you’d want to dive right into the next story, for the adventure.

As for her latest book, this year’s “Rodham,” it seemed like “American Wife II,” I had no need and no desire.

But then I got an e-mail from Deborah Holland.

She was the singer/songwriter of Animal Logic, a trio with Stewart Copeland and Stanley Clarke. This was after the Police broke up, as for Clarke he had a stellar reputation, Animal Logic struck you on the surface.

And then there was a track, “There’s a Spy (In the House of Love).” This was 1989. And the track got MTV play, more than lunar rotation. And the chorus was indelible, you heard it once and not only did you know it, you needed to hear it again.

But that was Animal Logic’s only success. After a second LP the band broke up and Deborah Holland disappeared, but she reappeared as part of the Refugees, a trio with Wendy Waldman and Cindy Bullens. She always seemed standoffish to me, but then the group’s efforts became sporadic and Deborah moved to Vancouver and I’d start to hear from her intermittently. Always about some aspect of art. Deborah told me to read “Rodham,” that she and her friends loved it.

Hmm… I trusted Deborah’s recommendation, based on prior e-mail, but like I said, I was not interested in this book. I downloaded the sample chapter and started but then I got sidetracked with something else and never went back.

Until last night.

I finished Sue Miller’s “Monogamy.” And it wasn’t good enough. Which made me crazy. Because reviews were stellar. I was hanging in there and if anything at the end I was disappointed, even though some of the plot twists were unexpected and made the book better.

Now I needed something new.

Oh, I could have buried myself in work, but what work would that be?

I’d been driving in my car for my annual physical and I’d heard Amy Coney Barrett and gotten depressed. They could have asked her if she was a woman and she would have said she did not have enough information and she’d have to wait until the legal question came up. I felt I needed to write something, I even had a title, “The Tyranny of the Minority,” but by time I emerged from Mitch’s office I wasn’t in the same mood, conversation with him and his staff had lit that inner flame, and it was growing, and I only write from the mood I’m in, I never fake it.

And then last night on Bill Maher he said everything I’d thought, and I chided myself, why had I been so afraid to lay my words down? Turns out I was not the only one who was depressed, not the only one lamenting the tyranny of the minority, then again I hadn’t been in the mood.

So now I’m coursing through all the sample chapters I’ve downloaded, and nothing is resonating. It’s close to midnight and I’m looking for that writing that cuts like butter, that requires no effort, that is not laden with description, that is not written for critics, for a literary judge and jury, and I’m not finding it.

And after exhausting all the possibilities, I find that sample of “Rodham” on my Kindle, and I wonder…IS IT AVAILABLE ON LIBBY?

I’ve got no crusade. Used to be to have all the music available to all for one low price per month, that came to be. Now what? Well, the evolution from physical to digital books. But persuading a reader of physical that digital is superior is like trying to convert a Trump voter to Biden.

I recently read a physical book. The type was infinitesimal. This is not an issue on a Kindle, I’d have blown it up, changed the setting.

And in this Covid-19 era why would you want to go to a library, why would you want to go anywhere unless it was necessary?

Which led me to Libby, the public library app. I was a naysayer, now I’m not. That’s where I got “Mrs. Everything,” but the newest Jennifer Weiner books were not available for months. But I’d reserved “Monogamy” and it ultimately was free, what about “Rodham”?

I could get it for seven days. Right now. I downloaded it to my Kindle, just that fast. Isn’t this what we’re trying to do, isn’t this the essence of the last two and a half decades, reducing friction?

And then I started to read it.

I’m not a student of Hillary, nor Bill. I know the highlights, but their story is in black and white, not color, at least until Bill runs for president.

But in “Rodham”…

Now I don’t know how much of “Rodham” is true. I mean were these really Hillary’s friends, did she have any of these experiences in real life?

But it does not matter.

Because this isn’t so much about Hillary the person, but Hillary the character.

What’s it like to be the smartest girl in the school? What’s it like to stand up for yourself? What’s it like to poke the bear?

Most people don’t. Now, more than ever, people want to fit in. But even back then, you stood out at your peril. You were labeled. You were just being yourself, but you were laughed at.

So, Hillary stands up to sexism and this is at the bleeding edge of the women’s movement. We’ve still got a long way to go, today men are aware of the issue, but in many cases they just remain silent, there’s a hidden code that we still do it but we just don’t talk about it publicly. But back then? Men assumed that women should be seen, not heard.

There were very few women at Yale Law School.

But what intrigued me most about “Rodham” was the relationships, the dreamed-to-be and those that were real.

Hillary has a rapport with Bruce. They talk every Monday. She finally decides to take a chance, she gives him a note, saying she’d like to be his girlfriend.

And then she hears nothing.

Mostly I laugh when I think back at high school. It’s a cliché, what you thought was important was not. But then reading “Rodham” I’m brought back and…these were truly serious moments.

There’s a school vacation. Hillary hears nothing. And when she finally encounters Bruce back in school, he says nothing. She’s dying inside, she finally brings it up. No, it turns out Bruce is into somebody else, WHO HE’S ONLY TALKED TO ONCE!!

And Hillary continues to have rapport with men who reject her. They’ve got a mind meld. She broaches the relationship issue and time and time again they just don’t see her that way, sometimes they just see her as one of the guys.

SO WHAT’S A GIRL TO DO?

Her Wellesley roommates tell her to show some skin, to shut up.

But Hillary wants someone who loves her for her brain. But then she realizes this just doesn’t happen, men go for the physical first, and she’s not high enough on the food chain, she’s not desirable enough for the men she’s interested in to be interested in her. She’s not good-looking enough to be involved with a good-looking man.

And then Bill Clinton comes along.

She sees him across the way, months before they ultimately interact.

You know… Maybe you locked eyes once. And to you it means everything, but did it really mean anything?

And when Bill ultimately approaches Hillary she’s not quite sure how to handle it. Is he just another friend? She’s not in his league, she’s gun-shy. But then Bill says she’s the smartest girl at Yale Law School and he just had to meet her. And a love relationship ensues.

Bill is comfortable in his body.

But Hillary… Actually, she’s had sex, she’s not a complete nerd, but she’s completely flummoxed, why would Bill be interested in HER?

And Bill has big appetites and big desires.

And they do go to Yale and both of them are working the connections, connections the average person is unaware of, never mind able to utilize.

And now I’m feeling inadequate.

But then Hillary is working for Legal Aid and she’s drafting and I’m telling myself there’s no way I want to do that, I’m not interested, and there are things I’m interested in.

I never got higher education. I mean was there anyone who was truly interested in what they studied? Not me. The best part of college was hanging out, and going skiing.

Skiing. That’s why I went to Middlebury, it had its own ski area, I could ski every day, talk about a thrill! And I did. Well, at least during January term, in the spring it was more difficult sometimes, I did have to do some school work.

And the truth is that is what I still do today, ski, so maybe that was the right path.

But I never fit in, I never took the path, it never seemed reasonable to me. I don’t know whether it seemed reasonable to everyone else, or they were indoctrinated into doing what they were told.

And unlike Yale Law, unlike Wellesley, the people I went to college with did not set the world on fire. Sure, it was a different era, pre-tech, pre-entrepreneurship, but what if I’d decided to go to an Ivy instead, I had the chance, would it have played out differently?

But then I wouldn’t have been able to ski every day.

And I couldn’t go to concerts at Middlebury, although we did venture to New York and Boston every once in a while for a big show, like Bowie and Dylan, but I could listen to the same records as those who went to UCLA.

So, on one hand I feel different, certainly from all the people I went to college with. On the other, I’ve found like-minded people in music, but although there’s still a music business, it resembles the pre-Beatle era, all pop all the time, it’s business, it’s not driving the soul of the country.

And even the biggest artists don’t make a difference. Demi Lovato and the Lincoln Project? Here today, gone tomorrow. And are we really ready to listen to Demi Lovato tell us what to do, of all the people, all the artists in the world?

So on one hand I’m lost.

And then I read “Rodham” and I’m found.

I’m only ten percent in, but I’m stunned, that someone is on my page, someone has had my experiences, Sittenfeld must have to have written this book.

WHERE WERE THESE PEOPLE WHEN I WAS GROWING UP?

It’s not like my father taught me how to be a man, at least not sexually.

And today you can find like-minded people on the internet, but back then you were locked up in your own little world, dreaming, holding on for something better. Talk about depressing…

Knowing Sittenfeld “Rodham” will never get off course, it will ultimately deliver. Will it be as good as this initial 10%? Possibly not.

But I don’t want to keep on reading, I want to savor every page. It’s like finding the Dead Sea Scrolls. It’s like listening to Supertramp’s “Crime of the Century.” You think you’re the only one, and then you’re not.

“There’s a Spy (In the House of Love)”:

Spotify: spoti.fi/2H7fvFS

YouTube: bit.ly/3nYeRLv

Letterman: bit.ly/3dFePn1

They’re selling merch.
You need to read this story, even if you hate BTS:

“BTS’s Loyal Army of Fans Is the Secret Weapon Behind a $4 Billion Valuation – What investors are really paying for is not necessarily the K-pop group or its management company, but its huge, highly connected ecosystem of followers.”: nyti.ms/3iZMclz

Ignore the headline, I don’t agree with it, but be sure to read the article.

There are many music businesses today. Many ways to skin a cat. And despite triumphing over pirates, as a result of Spotify, the ecosystem of the major labels and their attendant infrastructure, i.e. radio and press, is woefully out of date.

Yes, we’ve been hearing about TikTok stars, we’re all aware of the story of Lil Nas X, but now what? Guy had a huge hit, he’s got name recognition but that’s about it.

Unlike BTS.

BTS is mobilizing its fan base. That’s what the above article is all about. The fans are spreading the word, buying the merchandise, buying the stock. They’re heavily involved in an alienated world where oftentimes it’s hard to find something to believe in, to live for.

And how are they doing it?

By making the act three-dimensional.

The traditional arc in today’s Top Forty world is to carpet bomb all media to the point where the most people are aware and then leverage that awareness in the straight business world, licensing your name/likeness/efforts to others, or starting a business yourself. It’s like everybody in the American music business has watched “Shark Tank” and the music is just a vehicle to get rich. How can fans identify with that?

Whereas BTS starts with the music, but it’s the penumbra that seals the deal. The group members reveal all their warts, their hopes and dreams. Note, this does not pay direct cash. We learned this years ago in internet world, you have to know when to monetize. If you’re trying to get paid for every effort you’ve lost the plot. Make someone a fan, bond them to you, and then they’ll give you all their money. BTS is owned by its fans, not by radio, not by streaming services, those are nearly irrelevant. It all happens elsewhere, on social media, places where fans can congregate. Which is why One Direction could sell out stadiums with only one radio hit in America. The fan base was rabid, they didn’t even listen to terrestrial radio, why?, what they needed to hear was on demand, at their fingertips, whenever they wanted it.

You’re in business for yourself these days. Sure, you can feature a famous rapper to gain attention to your track, but that’s all you’ve got, attention for one track, that does not make someone a fan, especially where there’s so much to pay attention to and be interested in 24/7.

Also, bonding fans takes a long time, it does not happen overnight.

You just don’t want to go to the show, you want to feel connected, you want ownership, which is what Big Hit has done with its IPO!

The values are staggering. A company with one hit act, that generates almost all of its revenue, is worth billions of dollars, doubling in value from the initial IPO price. What is driving the stock price? THE FANS! If you’re an investor following the fundamentals this investment makes no sense, unless you’re planning to get out soon. Shares are merch. You buy them to demonstrate your alignment, your belief in BTS. It’s kind of like owning a piece of the Green Bay Packers, but with much more involvement and many more perks. Once again, U.S. business is always looking up as opposed to down, but all the money is in looking down. Hell, how do you think Biden raised all that money? ONLINE! There are so many people in the world, many more than corporations, and when you group the people you end up with more money and more power than when you sell out to the corporations. Even worse, if you sell out to the corporations they own you, you’ve got to watch your step, whereas if you sell out to your fans, they approve of your behavior!

This is where the money is. I’m surprised no one in America has tried it. Taylor Swift complains that her catalog was sold out from under her. She should have just gone public and raised the money to buy her tracks.

And fans are not looking to buy shares to get rich. They won’t even really care if they go to zero in value. They got to go along for the ride, they were involved, they got to root for somebody. And, they were instantly part of a group with the same feelings and goals.

Yes, in the twentieth century you marketed to everybody. Today, you market to your niche, your dedicated customers.

Think of terrestrial radio and the Spotify Top 50. They appeal to a narrow slice of the public. Most people just don’t care. Whereas the money is generated elsewhere, where acts are in it for themselves. Sure, sometimes the two cross, but then again, so much falls out of the purview of the aforementioned charts/playlists.

You don’t need to beg for an add, you’ve got to micromanage your career, appealing to those who care, who will spread the word, do all the work for you. Come on, I read about music in the newspaper and I laugh. The stories are all placed there by publicists, it’s all hype. But if I hear about it from a friend, a trusted individual, I’m all ears.

And it’s kind of like Tesla. Other cutting edge companies in green technology and other tech verticals. People invest in them irrelevant of the initial return, they believe in the mission, which is why the Street and the short-sellers got Tesla so wrong. Furthermore, the public likes to lay down its cash for that which it believes in. You can rant all day about the build quality of a Tesla, but that’s not dissuading buyers. Hell, there’s a huge group of buyers who will be shamed by their friends if they don’t buy a Tesla. Forget D.C., the Fox News blather about the desire to have a zillion children and burn fossil fuels schlepping them around in a Suburban, if not two, today’s younger generation is incredibly ecologically knowledgeable, this is what they care about, climate change, the future of our nation, and if you play to them they’ve got unlimited money and time to give you.

That’s the lesson of yore. A fan will give you all their money, even if it means they cannot eat. I know people who ate hot dogs just so they could buy albums. Now they buy BTS stock and devote their time to the band, they’re not worried about how much they’re getting paid an hour, IT FEELS GOOD!

There’s a lot of unplowed ground here.

And funny how the innovation came from Korea.