What a show!

I screamed so loud Felice was more scared by me than what was on the screen!

Like I said, I base my viewing on recommendations. In this case Jim Urie recommended “The Twelve,” and then just a couple of days later, so did Bob Pfeifer. Did I trust them?

I wasn’t sure, so I went on RottenTomatoes and found…nothing.

This is kinda like the worldwide #1s, especially the hits in the U.K., not crossing over to the U.S. They’re hiding in plain sight, there’s even a playlist on Spotify, but so many records don’t make the transition. It’s curious. If anything it proves there’s no longer any spontaneous combustion, nothing is so good that it blows itself up. It needs focus. Maybe by a label, with its publicity, marketing and promotion departments, maybe social media, with communities spreading the word.

But I heard nothing about “The Twelve.”

It’s Belgian. For all I know there could be a dubbed version, but I always employ subtitles, dubbing makes a show unbelievable, and you soon start to believe the actors are speaking in English anyway. Don’t ask me to explain it, they’re obviously speaking a foreign language, but you’d expect to run into them on the street and have them speak perfect English, with no accent.

So, the “Twelve” are the jury. Yup, it’s one of those shows, what will the jury decide.

But that’s not what makes it so interesting, it’s the characters.

Of course we want to know who committed the crimes. And you’re constantly changing your opinion, but…

For me the star was Arnold. A juror. His wife died and he can’t get over it. He tries to be nice to people and they reject him. His coworkers make fun of him, as do his neighbors. You feel so bad for him. There are so many people like this in real life, especially elders. What they don’t tell you is as you age you will have fewer friends. You won’t hang out at bars, you’ll find it’s hard to get somebody out of their house. And if you’re single, or your significant other dies, or you break up, you’re totally screwed. If you’re lucky, you’ll have people who will allow you to be the fifth wheel, if not…you’re alone, with only words and pictures to keep you company. Of course you can go online and try to find someone new, but even if you have the gumption, to get rejected at this age, to relive high school, to relive your adolescent anxieties, you’ll too often find people just like you…hurt, damaged, looking for someone to save them. I know from experience, in the nineties I had a free subscription to AOL, I lived online, it consumed my life the rest of the decade. And you could meet people in chat rooms, or on Love@AOL, or when the web gained momentum, Match.com, to which I still have a free lifetime subscription, if I could ever remember the login and password. It’s bad enough navigating these issues when you’re young, you’ve got context, you see people every day in school, you’ve got commitments, your whole day is scheduled, but when you get old, you’re lucky if you even have a job, and you can join the social groups but what you’ll find is…members are much younger than you are, and you get sick of being labeled the oldster, or they’re the same age or older than you, and half-dead already.

And then there’s Delphine. With her jealous husband. Is it them, or is it you? I had a possessive girlfriend. I’ve never cheated on anybody in my life, I’m loyal, I’m committed, but she was not only jealous of other women, but my time. But there were positives, and you’re always weighing whether it’s worth the sacrifice, you’ve been together so long, they know all about you, can you handle the breakup?

That’s another thing they don’t tell you, how hard breakups are. The only person who really gets you you can’t talk to anymore. And even if your friends listen at first, they burn out, they don’t want to hear it anymore.

And twelve step programs… What does it take for people to jump the rails? I just read a fantastic book. On one hand I’m loath to recommend it, because it’s short stories, and they leave you hanging, as if the typesetter forgot the ending. You turn the page and…there’s a new story, how could this be? But the writing is great. Reading it made me aware that anybody can publish a book, but very few can write. Yes, people can lay out facts, even plot, but to have the words cut like butter, to create images in the reader’s mind, to make the reader eager to read, to forget everything else in their life while they’re consuming, that’s really difficult. The book is called “Cool for America”:

Cool for America: Stories

It’s very easy to read, but it’s not for casual readers. If you just want information, this book is not for you. If you need everything tied up in a bow, this book is not for you. But if you’ve got more questions than answers, if you think about your choices, read it. The stories are about millennials. Not all of them are bankers, techies, living life in the fast lane, at least financially. Many went to college and are drifting, waiting for the world to reveal itself. And a lot of moral issues come up in “Cool for America,” if the person is married…and do you stay clean and do you take a flyer?

And you think you know people by their exterior, even by what they say and do, but the truth is you don’t really know them at all.

And people can be mean. And their priorities can be screwed up. And as a parent, to what degree should you get involved in your children’s choices. When I was growing up, our parents knew little, but if you crossed the line there’d be hell to pay. Today, parents know everything about their kids, they’re their best friends, make me puke, but they want to control them all the while. I went to college and my parents didn’t care what I took, if I passed it was cool, same deal with law school. As far as telling me what courses to take, I was on my own.

And then there are the people who just cannot accept the inherent flaws of others, the baked-in stuff, that cannot be changed. It’s screwing up their life. But if you can’t accept others…

And then there’s the issue of borderline personality disorder. Where they put you on a pedestal, and then tear you down and leave you when you least expect it. That’s an element of this show, and I lived it in my real life, I’m not sure if I’ve recovered yet, it messes up your sense of trust.

And does everybody lie on the stand these days? Do the police manipulate evidence? It seems the richer you are, the less you’re beholden to the rules. The regular folk have a sense of honor, at least more of them.

And then there’s the tell-tale heart, yup, right out of Edgar Allan Poe. Can you commit a crime and get away with it and live with yourself? Can you cope, can you put one foot in front of another? Maybe only psychopaths and sociopaths can do this.

But at first “The Twelve” was not a recommendable show. It just seemed like a genre series. But as the episodes unspooled, the characters became three-dimensional, their identities came clear. The defense attorney bugged me, but over time I came to love him.

And very little is definitive, certainly when it comes to legal issues. The truth may just not be revealed, you’re gonna have to live with the fact that…you might get it wrong. I’m not eager to put someone in jail for thirty years without the evidence being perfectly clear, and as I just said, it’s usually not.

So, as the episodes unfold, you see people’s flaws, their situations come clear to the point where you switch sympathies. And I don’t think every jury would have this many issues, but maybe I just haven’t lived enough, maybe I just don’t know people.

And in this Covid-19 era… It’s like “Groundhog Day,” every day is the same. I’m lucky enough to be busy business-wise, but there are no concerts, no meetings, no get-togethers, and it can become oppressive. And people my age fall into two categories. One, those on complete lockdown, who don’t want to see anybody. Two, those who say they’re quarantining, but really are not, you question them and you find they’ve been to restaurants, they flew on planes, they took vacations, but they’re healthy and they can’t understand why you won’t loosen up. Then you read about people, even young people, who feel this way and then…Covid-19 bites them in the ass.

So, when I find a show I can get into, and most I cannot, it’s the highlight of my night. I don’t see it as entertainment, but life. It’s always strange when you see the same characters playing different roles, you thought you had them nailed and then you do not, like Thierry Godard, who is radically different in “Spiral” than “A French Village.”

And “The Twelve” is not as good as either of them, it’s not in the same league. But the more I watched it, the more I realized it was a cut above most of the dreck people tell me to watch.

So…kinda like with “Cool for America,” you’re on your own. If you’re not willing to commit to “The Twelve,” don’t even bother, because unless you watch it to the end, you probably won’t respect it.

I’m just pissed it’s over.

The Twelve

The trailer at the above link is DUBBED! It horrified me, because the Flemish voices sound nothing like this. If you don’t know how to turn on subtitles, watch this video:

How To | Subtitles & Audio | Netflix

“The Biggest Bluff: How I Learned to Pay Attention, Master Myself, and Win”

If you play poker, you must own this book. If not…there are a lot of psychological lessons which you’ll find interesting, although they tend to interrupt the narrative of the book. Also, if you don’t play poker, or are a newbie, at the end there is a glossary that will help you out, not that you need to know everything to understand the story.

So you’ve got a Ph.D. psychologist, Maria Konnikova, whose family is down on its luck, who decides to learn and play poker in order to write a book. She reaches out to Erik Seidel, a majordomo in the poker world, and he mentors her and…

She wins money.

Proving that all you amateur poker players out there have something to learn. I’d like to tell you about Konnikova’s victories, but I don’t want to ruin the book. Suffice to say there are the math whizzes, but they don’t necessarily win.

Konnikova focuses on poker, Texas Hold’em, because it’s the closest representation of regular life you can find. In chess, you can see everything, whereas in life, you never can. And in Texas Hold’em, the sky’s the limit, you can bet as much as you want, begging the question…are you sure about that? Come on, you’re spewing facts all day long, but if someone came along and said they’d bet 100k on it, would you be so convinced?

So the first lesson Seidel gives is…

“Less certainty. More inquiry.”

He says this over and over again. That the game, the world, runs on information, and you want to gather as much as you can before you make a decision.

This was my father’s mantra…ASK QUESTIONS!

Most of us, males especially, are worried about image, how we’ll look. That’s another thing covered in this book, if you’re worried about others’ perception, if they’ll laugh at you, chide you, you’re already a loser. That’s one of the reasons Jason Flom is so successful, he’ll ask anybody anything, he doesn’t always profess to know, while so many elite players are afraid to say this, to their detriment.

So there are lessons about fakers, and bullies.

Konnikova is playing at the Golden Nugget, or maybe it’s Planet Hollywood, and a guy says he’s a newbie and knows nothing. A sham, he ends up taking everybody’s money. Welcome to the real world, where you may not see this person ever again, where the factual rules aren’t broken but the emotional ones are, but there’s no court for emotional transgressions.

Seidel insists Konnikova start online. And when she ultimately goes to Vegas, to play in the secondary market. The big swinging dicks play at the Aria, you want to be prepared, not that everybody at the table at the Aria is. You see, they’re distracted. Checking their phone, missing minor, yet critical, information.

The tells.

Konnikova says there are none. She thinks she can read people, but she finds out she’s completely wrong, not to trust her instincts. She ultimately goes to the experts, scientists who’ve studied the game, and learns that the only tell is in people’s hands! In other words, you’re confident you know what a person is thinking based on their attire, their head movements, but you’re totally wrong.

As for paying attention 24/7, it’s the little things that pay dividends down the road. You see how someone acted previously, even if you weren’t in on every hand.

And don’t play every hand. Sure, there are some who are legendary aggressors who win, but most don’t. You’ve got to choose your moment.

And beware of bullies. This truly resonated with me, especially in Hollywood. There are gonna be people who put you down and have you questioning yourself, that’s their game, you put your tail between your legs and fold. You’ve got to be strong in your opinion, you’ve got to stand your ground, the bullies are not going to like it, but it’s the only way you’re going to win.

And if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the fire.

The first time Konnikova is in the World Series, she ends up catatonic in the bathroom. This is what those who’ve never competed at an elite level don’t know. That skill is one thing, being able to demonstrate it when it counts, keeping yourself steady and together, is oh-so-hard.

But the biggest lesson is…

Konnikova has an incredible hand. But after going all in, she’s loses to someone who has the only cards that could beat her. And Konnikova goes to the Aria, to tell Seidel her story, and he immediately holds up his hand and says…I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!

Don’t we live for our stories, how we got unjustifiably screwed? But the truth is there’s always chance, there are no guarantees, sometimes you’re gonna give it your best effort, based on the best information available, and you’re still gonna lose. The key is not to dwell on that, but to continue to march forward, keep your equilibrium and soldier on. That’s so difficult. To keep an even keel. To not focus on the losses. But you need to acquire this skill to survive not only in poker, but in life. You lose your job…happens to everyone. Just start looking for another one!

Here are some quotes:

“I’ve let them get to me. I didn’t want to be pushed around – but I wasn’t comfortable doing the pushing around, either. And the result is this mess of a hand. I’m hopeless at this game. And apparently, I’m hopeless at life. A gutless female who wants to be liked more than she wants to win. Maybe I don’t want to go to Vegas, after all. Maybe the WSOP (World Series of Poker) is better off without me.”

You can only win if you want to, if you’re willing to do what it takes, go on offense. You cannot win in life playing defense all the time, no way. And in a man’s world, you cannot win by being demure and avoiding confrontation, you’ve got to have a backbone, stand up for what you believe in, what’s right. Furthermore, the cascade of negatives can truly put you in a frame of mind where you can never win.

Oh yeah, one of the worst things that can happen is you win early, thinking it was your skill as opposed to your luck. So many times early winners fade away, because they didn’t focus on the development of the skills they need to survive.

“And you learn best when you’re playing every day.”

That’s how I got to be a great skier, going each and every day, whether it was raining, snowing or ten below zero. Forget the 10,000 hours I needed to achieve that skill, it’s the 1% that makes all the difference. So when you’re in a tight situation, you survive. Like skiing in France on a cat track in the shade, with no one in sight, and coming around a corner and finding sheer ice interspersed with dirt and rocks. To the right, a wall, to the left, a drop-off, and I’m going so fast there’s no way I could stop, so…I just let the skis run, even though this put me in a situation where I was out of control…I just kept my cool and figured somewhere down the line the terrain would change and I could save myself, and I did.

It’s about the fine edge, that’s what makes the difference between a winner and a loser. Oh sure, a weekend warrior can ride the tram at Big Sky, and maybe even survive on the double blacks. But if things go wrong… But if you’ve skied every day, you can recover from a mistake.

And if you’re not passionate about the pursuit to begin with…GIVE UP, or make peace with the fact you’re an amateur.

“In an age of constant distraction and never-ending connectivity, we may be so busy we miss the signals that tell us to swerve before we’re in the bad beat’s path.”

I’m into my iPhone, I love the digital age, but if you’re not focused on what’s important, you’re gonna lose. No distractions during the game, antenna wide open, receiving signals. Furthermore, most people don’t want to get in this zone, because they still might lose, they’d rather laugh and consider themselves an amateur, saying they could win if they wanted to, when the truth is they can’t.

“But here’s where something of the Dunning-Kruger effect creeps in. Yes, that one. The one that shows that the less competent you are in an area, the more likely you are to overestimate your degree of competence. That the less you know about a topic, the more you think you know – as long as you know just enough to start feeling a bit fluent in its vocabulary.”

This happens to me all the time, people confront me with their truth when I know it’s false. I used to correct them, now I never do, because they can’t handle it, they usually just double-down on the falsehood.

Life is like an onion, you keep peeling back the layers. The winners get all the way to the nub, the losers peel back the first skin and think they know everything. Never take the first source as gospel. Keep questioning. It drives my compatriots mad, if it’s important to me I’ll research and ask the same damn questions over and over again, to see if I get the same response, I want to find out how sure the person is in their conviction.

“First dates are about dazzle. You play each hand, even when you’d rather fold and crawl back home admitting defeat.”

First, you must take the risk, if you do not play, you cannot win, but you will never win every time, be prepared for rejection. And when you’re trying to make a good impression, you can’t lay back, the opposite of poker. You’ve got to be aggressive, lay it all out there, even if you’re wincing inside, unsure if you’re winning or losing.

“You can’t control what will happen, so it makes no sense to try to guess at it. Chance is just chance: it is neither good nor bad nor personal.”

In other words, you can give it your best and still lose. And you’ve just got to accept this and move on.

I’d love to tell you “The Biggest Bluff” is an easy read. But the narrative is interrupted by the psychology, as if Konnikova was proving to her publisher she was delivering on her pitch. I found the narrative more interesting than the lessons. More story, less insight. But just when you get bogged down in the lessons, Konnikova goes back to the narrative.

You can make millions in poker, but don’t expect any respect:

“And he (Dan Harrington) tells me that those views may never change, no matter what I do. He recalls the moment he told his mother he won the World Series of Poker. ‘Well, what do you think, Mom? I won a million dollars. I’m world champion of poker!’ he remembers telling her. And she replies, ‘Oh, that’s great Danny. You know we have a cousin Pádraig Harrington. He’s a golfer, and he just won eighty thousand dollars in the Spanish Open.’ Dan persists. ‘Mom, I won a million dollars. I’m world champion.’ And she has one answer. ‘Listen, Danny, he’s doing well on the European tour.'”

I’ve got no patience for poker. Cards are not my thing. But having read this book I’m certainly convinced that winning is no accident, that it takes skill.

And if you truly want to fix your problems, go into therapy. But for some insight into how the world works, there’s no better instruction manual than this book.

Spotify

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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.