Paddleton | Official Trailer [HD] | Netflix

They never make a movie about the way guys really are.

You can see beefcake, men who love ’em and leave ’em, men who abuse women, but they don’t make a flick about the people I know.

They do in “Paddleton.”

The average guy can’t get laid, is probably afraid of girls, has a good heart and would never step out on you, for fear he’d never find anybody else. These are the good guys women are looking for, but don’t want. You’ve heard there are no good guys left? That’s wrong.

Not that Ray Romano and Mark Duplass are winners in this flick.

Romano is afraid of the cute coworker who asks about his weekend. You’d figure this is a perfect opportunity to connect, but it’s easier to brush her off and angst about it later. As for Duplass…he’s got a go-nowhere job in a print shop, he ain’t gonna take you out for dinner someplace other than McDonald’s.

Yes, these guys are losers. And I’m not saying most men are, but there are so many true characteristics here.

Like the wearing of shorts. I’M GUILTY! I doff them in the winter, unlike a lot of people I know, but I see it as a perk of living in L.A. I see it as a perk of being in the music business, the one that used to exist, not the one we’ve got now, where the musicians dressed in street clothes and didn’t own a suit. Now that’s the techies. But here, the shorts are representative of yearning to be a boy, to not grow up. Or as my childless friend Jake says…without children you’re a kid forever! You can be silly, you’re not married to your job, you’re footloose and fancy free, even if the rewards come with aging.

But Romano and Duplass are still addicted to kung fu movies. They can do all the moves. They’re like best friends from high school. But they met as adults.

It’s hard to find friends as an adult, true friends, people you can count on, not just the husband of your wife’s girlfriend. Everybody’s into the pecking order, they will not let their guard down, certainly not with people they consider beneath them. And every encounter is a business opportunity. Get together with a guy and they’ll sell. You’ve got to pierce like a surgeon to get the real story. Women chat up their girlfriends about their feelings, their emotions… Men talk about cars, possessions and sports. Sound bad? It is. That’s why guys need girls, to expand their horizons.

But Ray and Mark have each other. Ray lied about a few things when he first met Mark, wanted to make a good impression, and it’s only when Mark’s time is nearly done that he coughs up an integral fact.

You see Mark has terminal cancer. I could leave that out, but it’s right up front in this flick.

I’m a fan of the Duplass Brothers. They illustrate what the technological revolution yields. I.e., they used the new and inexpensive production methods to make mumblecore movies that only insiders saw. But “The Puffy Chair” got traction and then the brothers got deals and their flicks…

Are indies.

You remember indie movies, right? That you saw at the art house? You had to get a distributor and you didn’t make much money. Furthermore, today no one’s got any time for the movies. Our dance card is full with exactly what we want. Driving to the movies and waiting for them to start is like buying an internal combustion car, something you once did you no longer will. Furthermore, you’re paying per pic, so if you don’t like something, you either endure it or feel ripped-off. But on Netflix…

The Duplass Brothers made an overall deal with Netflix. They sacrifice upside for guaranteed budgets and distribution. Are you making art to get rich or to make a statement? Too often, it’s the former.

And I’m not gonna recommend “Paddleton.” Because the truth is most people don’t like these movies. They like escape, they like happy endings, but there’s a tribe that yearns to see themselves on screen, a story about real life.

And the question is, when your best friend dies, where does that leave you? The one you made up games with, the one you had inside jokes with. There’s a giant hole that’s nearly impossible to fill.

And they make buddy movies about the infirm and aged. But regular people, eking out a living… Ray and Mark are not stupid, but either their dreams have been canceled or they’ve got no ambition. What does life look like then?

We keep reading about the kings and queens, those who played the game and won. When the truth is there are very few of those and you can’t replicate the formula. But if you’re just living your life…

If this is your kind of thing, tune in this show. I’ll admit it’s a bit slow at times, but then it picks up, not so much because of the action, but because of the piling up of events.

Do you have sex when it’s delivered to you on a silver platter?

Do you take your own life to avoid the pain?

Do you pick yourself up and start over having experienced loss?

These are the questions in “Paddleton.”

It makes you think.

They finally got him.

Wanted, dead or alive? Maybe Bon Jovi, but no longer Michael Jackson.

They’ve already postponed the Chicago theatre run. The tracks will be played, but Michael Jackson is about to become a pariah.

Wrong place, wrong time, to reference the old Dr. John chestnut. It’s kind of like sexual harassment. You could get away with it in the last century, but not today. Furthermore, child molestation is the third rail of our society, there’s no explanation, no excuse, you’re branded persona non grata and that’s it.

And past is prologue, i.e. R. Kelly. Despite Jim DeRogatis’s dogged investigative journalism, conventional wisdom is Mr. Kelly skated for far too long. That the industry gave him a pass, especially his record company, which liked the profit but didn’t want to hear about the behavior. Labels have been hiding behind the independent contractor myth for far too long. If acts are independent, why does the label end up owning the masters? Movie and TV studios too. Disney canned John Lasseter, and now it turns out Emma Thompson won’t work for him at his new company, Skydance. This is one thing that oldsters don’t understand, the goal posts have moved. Behavior that was tolerated then, is not tolerated now.

Like Donald Trump, Michael Jackson’s behavior has been hiding in plain sight. Was his marriage to Lisa Marie Presley ever consummated, was it just a cover-up for his bad behavior? And who is the father of his kids with Debbie Rowe? And the way he shuttled his kids around hotel rooms, and hung Blanket over the balcony… Sure, there was a bit of blowback, but since he was rich and famous he got a pass. The “New York Times” was snookered by the Donald for decades. When it finally dove into his taxes it turned out much of what he said was untrue.

But that did not involve child abuse.

Oh, don’t tell me not to dig deep. That’s the society we now live in, sunshine lights up the world.

As for the boys flip-flopping in their testimony… Did you watch Michael Cohen? Only politicians never get to change their minds, the rest of us are more fluid. As for a star’s power…it makes you do what you otherwise wouldn’t, I wish it weren’t true, but it is. You’re gonna ruin Michael Jackson’s career or get paid millions, go broke while becoming Monica Lewinsky, unable to evade the spotlight, or take the money and run?

Never underestimate power, never underestimate fame. And our nation is run on loyalty, whether it be in Congress or your own little home, we’re positively tribal.

As for truth… That’s a fungible concept these days. And people deny factual evidence, even if there’s proof. They say a photograph or video has been doctored, they say someone is lying.

So for those saying it ain’t so…too bad, it only matters if the public believes it to be so.

As for fighting on a legal technicality that HBO shouldn’t air the documentary, this is like the Republicans talking about Cohen’s credibility, not his content.

We heard the content, this is not a court of law.

So, the tsunami begins.

The Vegas show closes, because the casino can’t handle the controversy, even if people still want to go, they’ve got to deal with the picketing and the hit to their good will.

And the theatrical show never makes it to Broadway, it’s never resuscitated.

And no corporation will do a sponsorship deal.

But the music is still listened to, we learned that with R. Kelly.

It takes a long time for these stories to develop and come out. Where there’s smoke there isn’t always fire, but when the smoke never dissipates, when it builds, you pay attention.

Michael Jackson is dead. He ain’t going back to court.

As for his legacy, Fatty Arbuckle is only remembered for what happened in that San Francisco hotel room, even though he denied it.

You can’t be a child molester, they’re even killed in prison.

And can you imagine Michael Jackson in prison? No way. Which is why he convinced these boys to testify the way they did, they didn’t want to kill their friend, did they? This was not titan against titan, superstar versus superstar, this was the world’s biggest recording artist versus kids.

From time immemorial the wealthy have paid for silence. Hell, look at all the Wall Street world-beaters who kick their lovers to the curb, even the trophy wives, and pay them off.

Being rich and famous does not entitle you to break society’s rules. You think it does, but eventually everybody is caught, if by no one else but themselves. Come on, Michael Jackson couldn’t sleep, died way before his time, you think he wasn’t tortured?

They finally got him. The cash cow is killed.

Believe in yourself, not the heroes they run up the chart.

King of Pop my ass.

I’m so depressed.

The emcee was Bob Eubanks. I asked him about promoting the Beatles. He was just a booker, for a club in North Hollywood that’s long since been gone. But the big promoter didn’t want the gig. So, Bob mortgaged his house for $25,000 and got them. He made $4500 at the Hollywood Bowl that first year. He told me he was the only person still alive who promoted all three years of shows.

That’s kind of my point. Not so much who is alive, but what has been gone. They say it’s the same as it always was, but it’s not.

John Frankenheimer stood up and told the story of meeting Larry at the Troubadour and taking him back to his house to play him a new track. While he was listening, Larry went up to the vinyl and started pulling out records, throwing them on the floor, saying YOU’VE GOT TO HEAR THIS! And they spent all night playing each other records. That’s the way it used to be, that’s not the way it is now.

And someone else stood up. Coulda been Steve Jensen, maybe it was Tom Ross. Not important, but they said they used to argue backstage over who the best vocalist was. Larry believed it was Burton Cummings. Whenever this person saw Larry backstage, he’d mention another vocalist, and Larry would say NOPE!

We had our opinions. We were deep into the canon. It’s all that mattered to us.

Jeff Greenberg told me about the death of Steve Wolf. No one has seen Jim Rissmiller in years. Most everybody was over sixty, a bunch over seventy, they remembered, and despite movies and books you’ll never understand how it was unless you were there and lived through it.

They made records before, and they’ve made records after. But during that window, especially from ’64 to ’80, music drove the culture, it was everything.

On the big screen were pictures of backstage passes. Shows at the Santa Monica Civic, which no longer hosts gigs. All those lineups at the Forum, in San Diego. It was a closed culture which excluded oldsters. You listened to the radio, you learned about the shows and in most cases no promotion was needed, the shows sold out without hype, because that’s just how into it the fans were, they needed to be there, not for the selfies, not for the social media, but the music.

Sure, you can call me an oldster, even a has-been. On the other hand, I lived through the greatest era of recorded and live music, one that may never ever return.

It was all we had. There were bands, not deejays. Every local bar had one. You dreamed of getting a deal. The highest achievement was to hear your song on the radio. And to meet the band? You died and went to heaven.

Cameron Crowe told the story of going to interview Wild Turkey at the San Diego Sports Arena, a venue Pete Townshend called a “trash can.”

Lester Bangs told him to just ask for Terry Ellis backstage.

But that didn’t work. The security guard told Cameron he was not on the list and should go hang with the girls.

But nearly an hour later, after trying and trying to get in, Larry appeared and gave Cameron his first backstage pass, and told him to look like he belonged.

Cameron interviewed not only Wild Turkey, but Yes too, but not the headliner, Black Sabbath. And when Larry asked him how it was going and Cameron said he’d been able to interview everybody but Sabbath, Larry told him to go right in and question Ozzy, and Cameron did.

That’s Larry, the nicest guy in rock and roll. At the end of his career, after fifty years.

It ends for all of us eventually.

But we didn’t think it would end for us.

My old school buddies, they’re all calling it a day, but not me, not so many in this business, we soldier on, still searching for that hit we once got.

I talked with Susan Rosenbluth about going on the road with BTS. The fans know the dances as well as the songs, it’s a secret society, kind of like music way back when.

But can anybody be as big as the Beatles once again? Can anybody make the entire universe take a left turn?

Doubtful.

But Cameron’s talking and my brain is going through the files, wasn’t Wild Turkey made up of Jethro Tull refugees?

I know all this stuff. There’s loads of us who do. Kinda like you knew what processor was in your computer at the turn of the century. But unlike machines, music has soul.

And everybody there got it.

Tom Ross told me about selling his vinyl. That one record, if he still had the poster, it was worth $20,000.

You see people want this stuff.

They don’t want CDs, they’re useless. I paid for them, I built a collection, I don’t want to trash ’em, I don’t want to sell them for ten cents on the dollar, but will I ever play them?

Kinda like my Nakamichi 582. I worked for months to afford it. It’s still on the rack. But I haven’t turned it on in years, I bet the belts are stretched out or cracked. But what it represents…PRISTINE SOUND!

We needed to get closer. Music wasn’t background, it was foreground. Every day would be a listening party. Your friends would stop by and…

That’s why I’m so depressed. It’s sad Larry’s leaving, but he’s getting out in time, for whatever he got into it for is now gone.

I’m not saying I don’t hear good records. But music is back to being a business, when for a while there it was life itself. Tickets were cheap, but you couldn’t get them, but if you scored, you were inside, you were privileged, it was the only way to hear the band, there were no videos, rarely films, scratch a boomer and they’ll tell you about their favorite shows and wax rhapsodic.

I couldn’t play the radio on the way home. I left the Roxy and my spirits sank. I’m typing to you on my computer, but in the old days, I would have broken out a record, placed it on the turntable, put on the headphones, dropped the needle and turned out the lights. It would just be me in that bubble, with the music.

It was all we needed.

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— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) February 26, 2019

Marc Reiter will be returning for one of his parlor games.

I’ll let him describe it:

Best Second Albums EVER (or, No Sophomore Slumps!): Those Artists Whose Second Albums Topped Their Strong Debuts (or at least gave it a run for its money!).

As the cliche goes, “You have your whole life to write your first album, and only eighteen months to write your second one!”, so the pressure’s on when it comes time to follow up that strong debut release. We’re going to explore some of the best one-two punches in the history of popular music. You may agree; you may disagree; and maybe you have a few that we haven’t thought of! Remember, the artist must have a good first AND second album…we’re not looking at One Hit Wonders, or Strong Growers (those who grew dramatically between their first and second albums)…Those are different themes altogether!

Some Examples:

Police
“Outlandos D’Amour” vs “Regatta De Blanc”

Elvis Costello
“My Aim Is True” vs “This Year’s Model”

(I don’t agree with this, I much prefer the first with Clover as opposed to the second with the Attractions.)

Led Zeppelin
“Led Zeppelin I” vs “Led Zeppelin II”

(“II” was more popular, but “I” was darker and I still prefer it.)

Radiohead
“Pablo Honey” vs “The Bends”

Beastie Boys
“Licensed To Ill” vs “Paul’s Boutique”

You get the idea.

Tune in tomorrow, Tuesday February 26th, on Volume 106, 7 PM East, 4 PM West.

Phone #: 844-6-VOLUME, 844-686-5863

Twitter: @siriusxmvolume/#lefsetzlive

Hear the episode live on SiriusXM VOLUME: HearLefsetzLive

If you miss the episode, you can hear it on demand on the SiriusXM app: LefsetzLive