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Tune in tomorrow, July 21st, to Volume 106, 7 PM East, 4 PM West.

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Emitt Rhodes – Spotify playlist

1

He was too good too soon in an era when giants walked the earth.

Today it’s de rigueur to cut your album alone at home, you just fire up your computer and…

There were no computers back then. It was an analog world. You used tape. And studio time was expensive. And when the revolution the Beatles started began, you couldn’t even touch the recording console, that was reserved for union engineers.

As time went by acts gained power, as a result of the massive profits they threw off. Music made more money than films, it built the Warner cable system, which is why record company executives were so handsomely compensated. Not that Dick Parsons remembered this when he blew out the labels at the advent of this century, with Napster and other file-trading services putting a huge dent in recorded music revenue. Then again, by this time, Mo and Lenny were gone. Joe Smith too. And Krasnow. Time Warner controlled the records, but those who made them, with their blood sweat and tears, had no control over the distribution and use of their work, never mind getting paid for it. Supposedly this is why Emitt Rhodes gave up, over business issues. Don’t underestimate that, look at the members of Badfinger who committed suicide for the same reason, think of all that coin that should have rained down to Pete Ham and Tom Evans for “Without You,” it was a smash twice, once with Harry Nilsson and then later with Mariah Carey, it’s a standard, not that anyone remembers, if they ever knew, that it was written by these members of Badfinger.

So, in today’s market-driven world, no one takes the long view. Warner Music just went public for a huge multiple of what Time Warner offloaded it for. It’s all about stock price and bonus, and those who create the work are seen as fungible.

But they’re not.

So, not only was it rare back in 1970 to have someone who could both play and record, but to add in the ability to play all the instruments too, that was unfathomable, unless you were Paul McCartney, who released his first solo LP the previous spring. Another strike against Emitt Rhodes was his voice sounded similar to Sir Paul’s. Such that he was pooh-poohed. Furthermore, the album came out on a lame label, ABC/Dunhill, when that made a difference. Emitt Rhodes was not taken seriously, except by those who listened.

2

It’s almost fifty years since I started college. That’s a long time ago. I had no time for those who’d entered in 1920, why should today’s students have time for me, in 2020?

They don’t. Only in 1970, there was a generation gap, the old were seen as such, and they accepted it. Today boomers are friends with their progeny and still think they’re hip, when the truth is there’s a growing generation gap today, based on technology and income inequality.

So, if you went to college in the seventies in Middlebury, Vermont…

There was no FM radio, except for the lame college station, and if you’d grown up in the New York market, with WOR-FM and then WNEW-FM and WABC-FM, it was unlistenable. The students at my college were not hip. 45% of them went to prep school, the rest were grinds. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t. But by time I realized this, if I transferred I’d have had to go to college for a fifth year, and that was never gonna happen. So, if you wanted to know what was going on in the music world, you had to subscribe to the magazines, “Rolling Stone,” “Fusion,” “Crawdaddy”… And I did. I read them cover to cover. And the knowledge gained has paid more dividends than anything I learned in class.

So, when I went on vacation, I’d go to New York and buy seven or eight albums, the ones I’d read about, and then bring them back to college to listen and dissect them. And I was serious about it, I never bought a clunker, you didn’t have to if you were informed. Same deal with watching a streaming show today, do the research and you will be rewarded. And coming back from spring vacation in April 1971 the three albums I remember buying were…

Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s debut.

James Taylor’s “Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon.”

And “Emitt Rhodes.”

I did buy “Tarkus,” but then I gave up on ELP, Greg Lake had a phenomenal voice, and Keith Emerson was a virtuoso and Carl Palmer was no slouch, but they lacked great material.

“Mud Slide Slim” was only hobbled by following “Sweet Baby James.” This is the album with the hit “You’ve Got a Friend,” but more importantly it contains “You Can Close Your Eyes,” “Riding on a Railroad” and “Machine Gun Kelly,” the first of which is a classic, and the next two are as good as anything as James has ever done.

And then came the Emitt Rhodes LP.

3

A.

Well I’m down with my face on the floor
Yes I got what I asked for and more
Well the moment she stepped through that door
I was down with my face on the floor

It’s all about the first track, if that doesn’t grab you it’s a bad sign. But as soon as you dropped the needle on Emitt Rhodes’s solo debut you were immediately along for the ride, the theme park attendant pushed back the safety bar and the roller coaster took off like a shot.

Well now she’s gone away
Just took time to say ‘I’ll drop you a line’ (drop you a line)
Well now she’s gone away
Just took time to say, ‘I’ll see you sometime’

Sure the lyrics are simple, but they’re so right, you’re infatuated, you connect and then she leaves.

But what makes “With My Face on the Floor” so magical is the simplicity, that piano hook, and Emitt Rhodes’s mellifluous voice. If this exact same LP was dropped today there’d be hosannas, because we’ve completely lost this formula, used to be to compete you had to have a great voice, you had to write your own songs, and if you didn’t…you didn’t make it, unless maybe like Dylan you were the best lyricist ever, or Jeff Beck…then again, as great as Beck is, the best, his entire career has been a search for material equal to his ability to play his guitar.

B.

Somewhere someone special just for me
Somewhere someone special must be

Maybe you don’t remember your teens, your twenties, the agony of loneliness, the dream of meeting your soul mate, back when you still thought that was possible.

I’ve been searching all my life
Guess I’ve looked most everywhere
Many girls have caught my eye
But that special one’s not there

A bridge? This is not rocket science, but the formula seems to have been lost. A melodious song, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge. But today no one can do it. Not that everybody back then did it as well as Emitt Rhodes.

And “Somebody Made for Me” was guitar-based rather than featuring the piano of “With My Face on the Floor,” it was slower and groovier, illustrating the chops of this cat, but for some reason the tastemakers just couldn’t come down off the mountaintop to anoint him.

C.

It’s been a long time I remember you well
It’s been a long time no see where you been keeping yourself

“Long Time No See” sounds like it would fit nicely on the White Album. It’s not made for the radio, it’s made for headphones in your bedroom, it’s not a ditty like what’s come before, it’s more of an album track, a mood-setter.

D.

Tears that angels cry
And they darken all the sky
When the one you love says goodbye

With just Emitt and his guitar, “Lullabye” does sound like McCartney, but it’s not an imitation, and it’s so heartfelt. This is what the listening experience used to be, before music was seen as background, grease for the party, the dance, gaming… “Lullabye” was made just for you, to make you feel human, part of something, to know someone else is on your wavelength, our musical heroes were not brands, they were artists, who did their best to reflect life back at us, so we could understand it.

E.

Well if you come from heaven
You know that that’s okay
Just as long as you’re here to help me
It doesn’t matter how long you stay

Talking ’bout you, baby
Don’t you know you’re fresh as a daisy, fresh as a daisy

“Fresh as a Daisy” has a magical bridge too, this and “With My Face on the Floor” are the cuts that floated above the detritus, that got a bit of radio airplay, or so they tell me, I never heard Emitt Rhodes on the radio.

F.

You must live till you die
You must fight to survive
You must live till you die
You must feel to be alive
You must live till you die

The funny thing is so many of Rhodes’s songs evidenced optimism, when he was notably depressed. Then again, when you’re young and depressed you believe a change of scenery will fix everything, if you meet the right person, it’s all situational, you have hope and then…when your dreams don’t come true…you hide in your house and watch television and watch the rest of the world go by.

4

A.

In retrospect, Emitt’s debut is a masterpiece.

But this was in an era of “Elton John” and “Tumbleweed Connection,” “Stephen Stills” and “Sticky Fingers,” never mind “Exile on Main Street.” What did Joni Mitchell sing, “You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone”?

But Rhodes had made inroads. His fans had hope. Not that we connected. For years people have talked to me about Emitt’s music, but I had to come to Los Angeles, get into the music business to find them. We could not connect on social media, we just listened and hoped there were like-minded people out there.

B.

You don’t have to be alone to feel alone
You can have someone and still feel alone

It was a year later, Emitt released a second LP, “Mirror.” I was no longer residing in Hepburn Hall with an assigned roommate, now I got to choose my living companion, who was not alienated by my music, which I could play every night as we fell asleep, never mind during the day.

And there’s a strong possibility
That we might often fail to see the better side of life

Ain’t that the truth. But this juxtaposition of alienation and optimism…there’s Emitt’s hope once again…and one thing is for sure, it bonded listeners to him, they embraced every word.

C.

Every time I feel this way I pick up my guitar
And sing a song of faraway lands, ego and facade
I often feel like sailing but I always miss the boat
And every time I feel this way I pick up my guitar

The closest analogue is James Taylor’s “Me and my Guitar,” from “Walking Man,” but that was released three years later, in 1974!

D.

When I needed someone
Tell me who came along
I was hoping you’d come
‘Cause I really wanted you
Yes I really wanted you

“Really Wanted You,” the second side opener of “Mirror,” is in the league of “With My Face on the Floor” and “Fresh as a Daisy,” stone cold smashes. Then again, AM radio no longer played this sound, unless it came from McCartney himself, and FM wanted something heavier, something darker, Emitt Rhodes resided in no-man’s land.

E.

And now comes the piece-de-resistance.

It’s funny how all these love songs resonated so much when I was getting no love. Oh, I had crushes, but Middlebury was like a giant high school, relationships were rare, I had to move to L.A. to get a chance, but still… What ended earlier was still prominent in my heart, funny how these high school relationships resonate for so long.

Love will stone you, but you’ll come down

Ain’t that the truth!

5

A.

There was a third solo LP in ’73, “Farewell to Paradise.” I got it from the Record Club of America, but it was laden with surface noise, I returned it. No one was talking about Emitt Rhodes anymore, no one was listening to him, few outlets even stocked the LP, it was more of a rumor than a release.

And then…

Nothing.

I mean absolutely nothing. Which is strange, unless you get sick or die, this rarely happens.

But word was he was living in the South Bay, you could research Emitt once the web arrived, and fans coalesced.

And these fans rallied around Emitt’s earlier work, with the Merry-Go-Round. Emitt had not emerged fully-formed, he’d paid his dues, still, the tastemakers of the seventies did not care. But there was a low rumbling online, very low…

And then came…

RAINBOW ENDS!

There’s always a comeback album, and it’s always disappointing, you’ve got to square your memories with the present. Usually the playing is cool, but the songs suck. And either the material sounds completely different from what came before, or it’s a pale imitation of the originals.

But not “Rainbow Ends.”

“Rainbow Ends” is my favorite album of the last five years. I don’t know another record like it. The oldsters are still dealing with teenage subjects, but Emitt’s singing from an adult perspective, and it’s so soul-fulfilling!

B.

‘You ain’t no good,’ I hear her say
Under her breath as she turns away
‘I’ll take the car, I’ll take the house
I’ll take the kids and then I’ll turn you out’

Ever been divorced? You usually lose EVERYTHING!

This is not the Emitt of the seventies. First and foremost he no longer sounds like McCartney, his voice is deeper, maybe if he’d had this sound back in the seventies…nah.

And unlike “Emitt Rhodes,” “Dog on a Chain” does not start on a tear. It’s confessional, quiet, just Emitt and guitar, but then, fully forty five seconds into the song, the band comes in, lays down a groove and…

She berates me, calls me crazy
Certifiably insane
Once she praised me, now she hates me
I can’t see how I have changed

BINGO!

You’re the same person, but suddenly you’re the ENEMY! Nothing you do is right. That seventies optimism, it’s been eviscerated, Emitt’s testifying, world-wearily, but the groove eliminates any trace of self-pity.

C.

Whenever I’m worried and I’m feelin’ alone
When problems are many and I’m all alone
When all the world’s troubles are too much to bear
Well that’s when I break down and I wish you were here

WHEW! It’s so hard to go from two to one.

I’m still trying to please you even though you’re not here
Still talking to you even though you can’t hear
And the more I deny it the more that it’s true
There’s hardly a moment I’m not thinkin’ of you

The funny thing is it works both ways. The leaver and the leavee have these same thoughts. The person is in your life every day, and then suddenly they’re gone, we’re just animals at heart, but with brains, this separation is intolerable.

D.

When you tell someone you care a lot
Prepare yourself for a broken heart
You think you’re so strong, think you’re so brave
You’ll feel so small, be so afraid
Whoa, whoa

Can you risk it, tell them how you feel?

I must admit I’ve thought about it for eons, but I usually can’t take action, fearing the rejection.

You like her so much it makes you sick
And you just can’t make no sense of it

Adult crushes are even worse than high school ones. At least in high school you see them on a regular basis, you’ve got a chance of interaction, to get your dreams fulfilled. But when you’re home alone in your apartment…

Whoa.

E.

Before you say I’m really very special
Then run to another’s arms

If they really felt that way about you, they would stay with you.

6

I wanna be somewhere far away
Somewhere where I won’t be afraid
I wanna be sheltered safe and warm
I wanna be somewhere far from harm

Emitt’s finally achieved his goal. Last night he died.

I could recite his personal history, what I’ve gleaned from the web, but I never met the man, even when he was coming back he shrank from the publicity. He canceled appearances, his record spoke for him.

And his recordings speak for him now. And forevermore.

And the funny thing is those who are remembered frequently weren’t made for these times. Like Nick Drake. Others who fought their demons but had to die to be accepted.

Forget writing camps. Just give wannabe songmeisters an Emitt Rhodes LP, there’s more instruction there than you’ll find in a room of umpteen writers with credits today.

I want to to be loved no matter what
Not just for now, ’til bad is gone
I want to be someone’s only one
Not just for now, ’til better comes

Isn’t that what we’re all looking for, love and acceptance?

You can be in a relationship, even married, and have neither.

Then you can have both for a while…but then it’s over.

And life goes on and the wounds have healed and you don’t want to risk being cut again, you want to stay out of danger, in your own small universe. The world has beaten you down, you give up.

But ain’t that America, where no one comes to your rescue until you die. Where being rich and famous is everything, when the truth is if you’ve got one person you can call a friend, who gets you, who is there for you, you’re wealthier than most of the people on the cover of the magazines, featured in the gossip columns.

Ultimately, Emitt Rhodes’s story is a sad one. Could it have gone another way? If he were on Columbia or Warner Brothers, if he got good mental health treatment? I don’t know. But I do know this world is made up of alienated people, who look to music to connect, make their lives whole, and Emitt Rhodes gets an A+ on that score. His music means a lot to me. I don’t need to convince you. I wish I could have convinced him. But it’s too late.

The older you get, the less you know, the more questions you’ve got.

Why does life work out for some, but not others? Why do some gain success, and not others? Why do some have happy relationships and they elude others completely? How can it be your genius hides in plain sight, unseen by the masses?

Emitt Rhodes is at the end of the rainbow now. Up in the clouds. His dreams are over, that’s all she wrote. His eyes are closed, but if you listen to his music yours will open. And see the human condition in a world where everybody professes to be a winner, where everybody wants to deny their feelings.

But not Emitt Rhodes.

I’m a student of the game. I’m less interested in the achievements of the stars than how they got there.

David Foster is an opportunist, in this movie he says so.

Funny, I didn’t see any hype for this documentary, but my inbox started to fill up with people asking if I’d seen it, what my opinion on it was, so I decided to dive in.

One thing you’ve got to know about David Foster, he’s insane.

I don’t mean certifiable. But those on the bleeding edge are not regular people, there’s something different about them, and when you interact with them you can tell. Foster’s brain moves a mile a minute, and he’s confident in his opinions. He’s always a mile or two or ten down the road, you’re discussing the present, and he’s already living in the future.

Fosters don’t work for the Fortune 500. They would never fit in. If you want to work for the man, the number one criterion is the ability to get along, to be a member of the group, to be part of the team, whereas with creative people it’s all about the “I.” Sure, other people aid in your success, in the field, in the studio, but then there are people like Todd Rundgren, fully capable of creating the tracks all by himself – writing, singing, playing, producing and engineering, and ending up with hits. And Todd isn’t the easiest going guy either. You see to make it as a musician, to be a star, you’ve got to be an egomaniac. You’ve got to think you can push people out of the way on your rise to the top. And in Foster’s era, in the big studio era, when there were hired gun musicians, the inner circle was made up of only a handful of players. Well, maybe two handfuls. But all those records you heard on the radio, by all those different acts? Oftentimes it was the same damn players. Meaning it was very hard to break into that circle. It took chops, perseverance and relationships. The music business is all about relationships. Doesn’t matter how good you are, if you don’t know anybody, you won’t get ahead.

So…

Foster is a prodigy. Most of these people are. With perfect pitch. With skills far beyond those in their neighborhood, even in their state. But that doesn’t mean they succeed in the music business. Anybody can get on the radio, anybody can get on TV, you enjoy it the first time but you soon set your sights higher, you want to be on EVERYBODY’S radio, EVERYBODY’S TV, you want to be part of the firmament, you want to SUSTAIN!

And you can come from nowhere.

But you’ve got to go somewhere.

Foster leaves British Columbia to go to London with his band. They don’t succeed. Everyone leaves but him. That’s a hard job, keeping the band together. Read the “Washington Post” article on Midland:

The Return of Cheatin’ Songs

Scott Borchetta is reluctant to sign bands, BECAUSE THEY BREAK UP! And if you sift through the leaves you’ll find that almost everyone in Hollywood started off in a band that broke up, there are just a few survivors, who need it.

And Foster doesn’t like New York. Greatest city in the world, but not for him. He feels claustrophobic. When Foster came up, the music business was centered in L.A., it’s centered in L.A. once again, if you want to make it you should come here, you don’t absolutely need to come here, but you want to make it easy on yourself. Living in L.A. is easy. It’s a giant suburb, if you can’t afford the rent you just move further out, you battle traffic, but that’s the only element that’s not on your side, there’s no issue of weather, it’s easier to survive.

So, Foster hangs out in London for a year, the loneliest one of his life, and then comes back to Canada. I know, I know, today you’ve got all these instant successes. But the truth is those who last paid tons of dues before you knew their names, with more failures than successes, until things finally clicked.

So Foster leads the “Rocky Horror Show” band, the musical played at the Roxy forever, and he works the relationships.

He’s at a session with Barbra Streisand and she’s not feeling it and calls for a break, but he sits at the piano, playing, knowing she’s listening in the control room, leading to one of his big breaks.

You’ve got to see the holes and take advantage of them. You’ve got to be pushy without appearing pushy, at least until you’ve succeeded, and then you can alternately be pushy or the friendliest person in the room, after all, you’ve got nothing left to prove.

But Foster always has something left to prove. So, he’s in the studio 24/7, year after year.

The star of this movie is Katharine McPhee, the “American Idol” runner-up who has sustained a career. She and David are now married, and she won’t let him skate. Foster says he’s a runner, he admits it. Foster delineates so many of his flaws in this pic, which undercuts the hagiography, especially when they cut to Celine Dion and Michael Buble. This was a guy who wanted it and once he got there believed in himself and wouldn’t let go, he didn’t compromise, the making of the Chicago records is the highlight of the musical interludes. Band separates from Columbia, they’re down on their luck, and then Irving hooks them up with Foster who promptly says their material sucks, gets them to write new stuff, along with himself, he also plays on the record, and the end result…GIGANTIC HITS! Peter Cetera sides with Foster and leaves the band and the guys in Chicago have never recovered from the whole experience. Foster changed their sound, there were not horns, they can’t get over it. Foster understands, but also says he rejuvenated their career and they’ve been touring on those hits he produced for decades since. A producer can be a chameleon, the act is loath to change its identity, it’s all they’ve got, if they fail, it’s toodles, whereas the producer can always get a new gig.

So, he’s married five times. When it gets bad, he moves on. Leaving carnage in his wake. Some of this trauma kids never get over, even if they claim otherwise down the line, I’m always stunned when constantly touring musicians have a passel of kids, they hardly see them, and oftentimes they break up with their mother and…

McPhee has Foster’s number. She talks about flying all over the world, to hang with Foster’s rich and famous friends, but then says they’ve got no clue who he really is. BINGO!

You get in this rarefied air and… There’s just no reality. Everybody’s being so fabulous, with a mask on, being fake, that you can’t connect. But you’ve worked so hard to earn this, to be part of the inner circle, and you don’t want to admit it’s phony, because then you must question your entire journey.

McPhee insists David discuss, argue, at length, reveal his feelings, she wants to get down to the real nitty-gritty. Something no prior woman has been able to do, never mind a man. Yes, you can have all the success in the world, but that does not make you happy, not on a sustained basis. It’s good to be #1, but that never lasts.

And we’ve got blowhards like Clive Davis polishing their resume, trying to ensure he lasts when he never will, all these acts saying the tracks they’ve done with Foster will last forever when they won’t either. Because the kind of stuff Foster does lacks an edge. The greatest stuff comes from explorers, willing to do something different. Oh, of course we need journeymen, fix-it people, but to become a legend…

Foster wants to be a legend. He can’t avoid the spotlight. He admits that his reality show appearances were bad decisions, jokes, but when you work behind the board all those years, you hunger for the spotlight, you’ve got the money and the credits, but not the fame, the acts have all the fame, even if they are now broke.

But Foster can’t give up. He says he’s retired yet he works all the time. Because he needs to be in the game, trying to ascend the ladder, which brings us to Broadway.

Why the Great White Way bookends this documentary I’ve got no idea. Since Foster has not had any success there, just a desire to triumph. But he does admit Broadway is a collaborative effort, when Foster is a dictator. Foster knows what’s right, he’s trying to achieve it, you don’t want to get in his way, you just want to say yes.

But is he George Martin, the Beatles, Quincy Jones? No. Because his big hit with Whitney Houston was not written by her and her identity was so all over the place that it’s hard to square the singer with the song.

Not that I’m trying to tear down hits. But Whitney Houston is a creature of publicity. She’s only lasted this long because she died. She had a big hit movie, some hits in the MTV era, so what? We’re looking for something a bit more titillating, with a bit more of the aforementioned edge. Same deal with Celine Dion. Yes, Foster recognized a star, but all she is is a voice. Who appeals to Middle America. But the British Invasion happened, the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper” and what came before became irrelevant. The Great American Songbook? Rod Stewart sang it, and it almost killed his career, his true fans had no interest.

So, there are two music businesses. One feeding the hoi polloi, casual fans, and another feeding the diehards, whose lives were saved by rock and roll and hip-hop, who see the singer not as an entertainer, but a vessel of God, someone who can channel truth, whose every word they hang on. The Beatles fostered the latter. Clive Davis fostered the former. The Beatles need no publicity, Clive cannot keep tooting his horn, you don’t need to do this when you’ve truly got it.

And Foster has it.

You see when you have big success, people notice, and they call, and want to use you. And as long as you continue to succeed, you can write your own ticket. It’s a hard business to get into, and a hard business to stay in, so you try to surf the wave as long as you can. And Foster’s had a very long ride, almost longer than anybody from his era. It’s just that…he’s making pop music, and pop music is inherently disposable. Which is maybe why he wants to go to Broadway, where he can prove he’s more than a studio rat, convince the naysayers in New York, when the truth is who cares what those arbiters of culture have to say anyway, isn’t that why we live in Southern California?

I’m judging Foster on an absolute scale. Because the documentary portrays him as a titan and that’s the world Foster considers himself a player in.

David Foster took a band on life support, on a new label, the Tubes, and gave them success…and broke up the band in the process, they didn’t see themselves as that act.

He made two stiff albums with Hall & Oates before that, and once the duo jettisoned Foster and produced themselves they instantly emerged with gigantic hits, like “You Make My Dreams” and “Kiss on My List.”

If you know who you are, you don’t want Foster.

But if you don’t… Foster can come along and deliver.

So who is the real David Foster?

Despite all the self-denigration evidenced in this documentary, I’m still not sure. What does he need? Hits, acclaim, money?

Well, if I think about it, what David Foster truly wants is love. He got it from his supportive mother, and he’s been looking for it from everybody else forever since. So he’s a weird amalgamation of compromise and a complete desire to not compromise, knowing that compromise never leads to success, you’ve got to follow your heart, only you know what will work. Talk to any creative person with great success, they’ll tell you they know when they achieve greatness, and they know when they don’t. It’s hard, but they have to rely on themselves. And Foster, as a producer, is inherently compromising when in truth he wants to be singular, and can’t hold himself back.

Foster’s not the only one. There’s the case of Mutt Lange, who essentially makes the albums himself. Without him? AC/DC never had a gargantuan hit, and neither did Def Leppard, all their legendary work was done with Mutt.

Foster’s a man out of time. He would have been a giant in Gordon Jenkins’s era. Where the song was everything, and it was a matter of bringing that song to life and getting it down on wax.

But that’s not the era we live in today. Whitney Houston, Celine Dion, Barbra Streisand, they’re all people out of time. Their vocal talents carry them through, but once again, what we want is something more singular, true artists, who speak from the heart, more John Lennon than Olivia Newton-John.

Not that I think Foster will be happy I said all this, he’d rather get adulation, but the truth is he needs to be pushed. He’s got the desire, but all the acolytes are sycophants. Foster’s still got it in him, he loves a challenge, he’ll dedicate all his time and effort into it.

Maybe it’s Broadway.

Or maybe it’s a concept album.

Or maybe it’s even a partnership with someone on his level, who will challenge him. Someone like Van Morrison, even though that’ll never happen. Could Foster push Van to create chart-topping, everlasting material? I think so, Van just needs that little push himself, but Morrison has been so abused he doesn’t want to invite anyone into his party.

Kind of like Quincy Jones and Michael Jackson. They both brought different things to the table. And butting heads they came up with something transcendent.

Today’s Foster is Max Martin. Although the Swede is fine living in the background. But like Foster, Martin has sustained success, when everybody else has not, usually producers have their era and then they’re over, can you say “Roy Thomas Baker”?

All this came to mind watching the Foster documentary. The first half is very interesting, how he got from there to here and what he left in his wake. And at the end there’s more of this too. And Foster is wide open, he’s himself, and you cannot help but watch and admire his success, which he earned, nearly completely by himself. Sure, there were business people aligned, but they’re a dime a dozen, Foster was responsible for the creative elements, the most elusive, they’re a challenge.

So, I don’t think the final chapter of David Foster’s life has been written yet, he just needs a bigger challenge. Molding singers into hitmakers? He’s been there and done that, which is why he’s reluctant to do it again. But if Bob Dylan can still carry on…

Foster is no Dylan, but Foster knows what Dylan does not, and vice versa.

Now there’s a pairing.

Most of these superstars just want yes-men or women. But they are the ones who can truly use Foster’s skills. Foster needs to play with people of his caliber. He’s found Katharine McPhee, but now he needs someone in the studio, any takers?

This was recommended to me.

It’s a police procedural, on Netflix, and the gimmick is there are four editions, one for England, one for Germany, one for France and one for Spain. I was worried about seeing them in order, but the truth is they were all launched, or as the kids say, “dropped” (what is the derivation of that word, now anything can be dropped, not just records) on the same day, September 20, 2019, not that there’s been any buzz, at least none that has crossed my threshold.

So Felice wanted to start with the U.K. To tell you the truth, I prefer a foreign language, it’s more exotic, it titillates me in a way, I love going to countries where I do not speak the language, I love that barrier, that difference, it makes me feel alive. Oh sure, the U.K. is great, but when you’re someplace where you have to live by your wits, that thrills me.

I check how many episodes there are. Three, that’s strange, usually there’s ten, sometimes six or eight. Three is digestible, enough to get the complete story across, but the show doesn’t unfold like I think it will, in that each one is self-contained, other than the investigators, one does not connect with another, so you can watch just one and get it, have a completely satisfying experience, and that’s what I’m recommending you do, watch just one episode of “Criminal: UK,” the second one, featuring Hayley Atwell.

The first stars David Tennant, who was so great in “Broadchurch.” He’s not quite that great in this, he’s good, but he doesn’t open up until three quarters through the inquiry, that’s the role unfortunately, I wanted more of him.

But Hayley Atwell…

I’ve never heard of her. But as I look at her Wikipedia page I see she’s in the “Avenger” movies, not that I’ve seen one, life is too short for comic books, I want real life, the truth, and that’s what Ms. Atwell evidences in this episode.

David Tennant is a doctor, dignified, whereas Hayley Atwell plays someone much further down the social stratum, in a country where class matters, where it’s hard to climb up the ladder but people are cool with it. We’re reaching a similar situation in the U.S., it’s just that people are not cool with it.

So, they’re trying to get the story out of Hayley. She’s sassy, voluble, unlike David Tennant in his episode. She’s not scared of the investigators, she’ll tell her story.

Now the nature of this show is the accused says one thing and then another story unfolds. I’m really not giving anything away, once you reach the Atwell episode you know the formula, from the Tennant one that precedes it.

But it’s the story of her life that is so riveting.

Everybody’s got a life, everybody has sex, or wants to, doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor. And everybody is tempted, and everybody gets caught up in the moment. That’s’ one thing about crime, your life is chugging along, if not quite swimmingly, at least adequately, and then one false move later, the whole picture changes, and it’s never the same thereafter, and you get no do-overs, no matter how well you did in school, no matter how much you love your mother it’s irrelevant, you did it.

So when Hayley tells the story of her sister… Whew! Sibling relationships, they’re primary, they’re fraught with issues, these are the people closest to you but oftentimes you wish they were far away.

So Hayley Atwell’s performance is so spectacular I had to remark upon it to Felice during the episode. I never used to talk watching TV, but when you watch these series and get to know the characters…

You’re looking at the flat screen and you truly believe Atwell is this person. She goes from confrontational, to acceptance, and then vulnerability, and then pleading…just like a real person would.

I don’t want to tell you more. But the truth is despite the plethora of product, excellence still stands out. I’m not sure we’re going to watch any more of “Criminal,” but it was far from a waste because of this second U.K. episode, because of Hayley Atwell’s performance.

In America a movie star is something different. They’re always beautiful, with no imperfections, they’re always people you’d want to have sex with, oftentimes with little acting ability.

And then there are those who are lauded for their technique, but the truth is their technique supersedes their performance, you just cannot believe they’re somebody other than the star. Of course there are exceptions, even Jack Nicholson, but maybe because he grew up in pulp, B-movies, with Roger Corman.

The movie business used to be exciting, it was the talk of not only the town, but the world. Studio heads were gods. Going to the movies was a ritual, especially in the late sixties into the seventies. The flicks were fodder for conversation. And a good deal were made by the major studios, and then there were those that were not.

Today anybody can make a movie, and oftentimes it seems like anybody does. Your iPhone is 4k, Soderbergh and others have shot features on them. But this technology didn’t exist half a century ago. Films were expensive, and the independent ones, the cheap ones, were made completely differently from the studio pictures. They were done fast, with experimentation, people filled multiple roles, in front and behind the camera. Production had the vibe of “let’s put on a show,” and oftentimes the result was dreck, or close to it, but there were plenty of gems too.

That’s the world Jack Nicholson came up in. So he evidences a weird credibility, believability, in every role. Sure, he’s Jack, but oftentimes you don’t see him as Jack, whereas those classically trained, in universities, frequently don’t resonate as well on film, or can’t hide their identity, like Meryl Streep. Oh, she’s great, and sometimes she blends into the role, but frequently she does not, but in Hollywood once you’re built-up, once you’re accepted, you stay on your perch unless you screw up, you see the system needs heroes, people to believe in. And the strange thing about internet culture is the ones we believe in are frequently the hoi polloi. Bari Weiss may bitch about social media hate and bullying, but the truth is regular participants in the social media world, unlike those in the establishment, puffed up with their degrees, hiding behind the masthead, know this goes with the territory, it’s de rigueur, you’re not supposed to complain, that does you no good, you need to just jump into the fire and stay there, and in the world of so many distractions what you think is so important is a case of myopia, the truth is other than those in your little circle, most people don’t know and don’t care, and events are soon forgotten. You never want to take yourself out of the game, you never want to whine and moan, because that means you don’t understand the game whatsoever.

But the truth is Hayley Atwell was classically trained. But in the U.K., where actors move fluidly from stage to film to TV, they are performers, the emphasis is not on stardom, but the role.

So… I think I’ve spewed enough. But I was touched by Hayley Atwell’s performance. That’s what I like about these series, getting into the world portrayed, forgetting about regular life, believing these people are the characters, and when I clicked the flat screen off the mood sustained and I thought…

I’ve got to tell people about this.