I didn’t want to go to the Wiltern. I’d already been back and forth to Hollywood earlier in the day. And in L.A. there’s substandard public transportation, so you have to drive, which is why we all believe Howard Stern is our best friend.

And I fired up all three map apps and compared and decided to go with WAZE, which is always funny, because of the detours. I’m on 6th Street and the app tells me to go up one block to 5th and back down Fairfax one block later to rejoin 6th. And I’ll be honest, I get angry at the people who won’t go right, who wait until the coast is truly clear…IT’S NEVER CLEAR! And you wonder why we have road rage.

But the reason I was going so early was to make sure I got a spot in the structure. It fills up really early and then there’s nowhere to park, and it’s not the safest neighborhood either, I know more than one person who’s had their car broken into there.

And I used to park underground, when Rena ran the building. But now Nederlander doesn’t even run the Greek. Time passes, and not so slowly like Bob Dylan says. I walk into the Wiltern and I don’t know a single soul. Is it me or them?

Actually, business was soft, way soft. Is it that Jamey Johnson hasn’t had a hit in eons or that L.A.’s really not a country town or both?

And it’s such a hassle going to a gig. Not only the driving and parking, which was $25, which seemed excessive, but the security. I get why people stay home. And the truth is people go to the big gigs of oldsters and hitmakers who’ve broken through, but in between…

Now the reason I went so early was to see the opening act, Marty’s new client Erin Enderlin.

First and foremost, she could sing.

And she can write. Actually, someone yelled out “Are you a songwriter?” And of course she said yes.

But Erin was a revelation. Because this is how it used to be, when it was about songs and one person and their guitar could get the message across. I’m standing there…and why they tore the seats out from the Wiltern…who declared that we must STAND to listen to music? They don’t at Disney Hall. And I’m getting into it. I’m suddenly glad I came.

But I couldn’t tell Marty how to break her. Country radio likes guys. And singer-songwriter music went out with the seventies.

Not that there aren’t singer-songwriters left, but most can’t write. Pull up the playlists on Spotify and wince. It seems the elixir has been lost.

But Erin has the next Reba cut and for her final number…

Jamey and the band came out. They duetted, it was so smooth, this is the kind of collaboration that should be featured on the Grammy telecast. But the truth is music doesn’t work on TV. You need to be there.

And Jamey Johnson sure was.

Now the guy looks like he came out of…THE SEVENTIES! Like an Allman Brother in his jeans. With his long hair and beard like he couldn’t do anything else. And he’s from Alabama and he was in the Marine Reserves and you realize…you don’t know people like this. Like Erin, who grew up in Arkansas. I mean I’ve stayed in a hotel across the river from Arkansas, but have never been there. And one night in Atlanta we took a wrong turn and ended up in Alabama, but otherwise…

Of course people live there. But so many of the coastal residents have no idea what’s going on there.

And Jamey’s featuring a ten piece band. Which makes no economic sense whatsoever, there aren’t even three hundred people there. There’s a horn section and a pedal steel player and a background singer and counting the bass player and Jamey, four guitarists.

And at first the numbers are noodling, kinda quiet. And you realize you’re at a Grateful Dead show. In that they don’t know where they’re going, you’re on an adventure together, and if you’re lucky, the building will levitate, with you in it.

Jamey’s picking out notes on his giant Epiphone. At times there’s a flute, there was even a Jew’s Harp solo, and you realize, not only can you not get this on TV, you can’t get it on wax, this is a one time only performance, and you are THERE!

Which is just about when Jamey pays tribute to Tom Petty and plays “Southern Accents,” which I get, but is not exactly the song I want to hear.

But that segues into “Room At The Top.”

Okay, these are the songs that resonate with him.

But then, the unmistakable riff… HE’S PLAYING MARY JANE!

And I have to run right down to the front of the stage, to get closer to the music, to feel it, to watch Jamey pick out the notes.

Last dance with Mary Jane
One more time to kill the pain

And I’m thrusting my arms in the air and singing along and thinking that after Erin I was contemplating leaving, wouldn’t that have been a mistake.

But then comes a super-slow version of “You Are My Sunshine.”

Yup, Jamey’s got a whole band, he’s not making real money, and he’s not even always using them!

And I’m checking setlist.fm. And every gig is different and some songs he’s never played when…

He goes into “Willin’.” Not the Seatrain breakthrough version, not Linda Ronstadt’s take, not even the remake on “Sailin’ Shoes,” but the slow talk/sung take from the very first Little Feat LP that no one knows.

I been warped by the rain, driven by the snow
I’m drunk and dirty and don’t you know…

This is bedrock. This ain’t evanescent Top Forty, but music that lasts forever. You know every word, and unlike when I first heard it, I’ve actually been to Tehachapi, but I’m still waiting to go to Tucumcari.

And there’s a Jerry Reed cover. And Tony Joe White’s “Rainy Night In Georgia.” And a Merle Haggard number. And, of course, Jamey’s cowrite of George Strait’s “Give It Away,” with the dancing matron next to me singing along with the chorus.

And then the band is chugging along with “Tulsa Time.” And you’re pinching yourself, YOU’RE ACTUALLY THERE!

Not that anybody seems to care.

There’s no backdrop, no fancy lighting, just music, the way it used to be.

And then comes the hit.

Jamey also played “Macon,” but every night he has to play “In Color.”

If it looks like we were scared to death
Like a couple of kids just trying to save each other
You should’ve seen it in color

I’ve been scared. Of my father. Out in the elements. In my twenties, thirties and even forties, wondering where it was all going, how it was all gonna work out. And when I hear “In Color” I resonate, especially with the concept of seeing it in color. It was so much worse than the retelling.

And I’m thinking of Hal Blaine. Who had to be a security guard after his studio heyday was through.

And no one is offering Jamey Johnson a sponsorship, he ain’t a brand, he’s a MUSICIAN!

And he isn’t the only one in Nashville, but they all seem to be in Music City. On the coasts it’s all about electronics and rhythm and it’s far from the basics, humanity.

And the truth is we’ve figured out distribution, but we’re still foundering with marketing.

I was talking with Jeff Garlin yesterday and he told me you can’t reference pop culture in standup comedy anymore, most people don’t get the joke, they haven’t experienced the underlying event/show/song.

That’s right, we parade the hits like most people know and care, but they don’t.

Jeff said the only thing that resonates is real life, living, relationships, those are universal.

And that’s the essence of a country song.

And big time music has lost the plot, lost its essence, lost its ability to resonate. It’s background noise. So why bother to go to the gig?

And most people don’t, even though the total is healthy.

But it used to be an addiction, to go out to see an act without dancing and pyrotechnics. Tech does whiz-bang better than any stage show. But AI ain’t human, it can’t make your skin prickle and have you thrusting your arm in the air.

Maybe Jamey realizes it doesn’t pay to make a record. What for? To be ignored?

Maybe we’re in the pre-recording era. Maybe it’s just about singing and playing, trying to capture the zeitgeist, climbing that mountain each and every night, a new adventure each evening.

Most big acts go on the road to replicate the show for dozens of nights. It’s an endurance test, done for cash, all aligned with digital triggers. It ain’t about music, it’s about celebrity, about brand extension opportunities.

Whereas music used to be made by outlaws. People who had to do it because it was the only place they fit in.

Like Jamey Johnson.

Now his memory has been made.

1

I was going to write this last night, after being shocked by the passing of Kilzer. His track “Memory In The Making” goes through my brain on a regular basis. There are a handful of tracks like this, ones that not everybody knows, but are embedded in your brain and pop up now and again and are on endless repeat for a few days.

But the album was not on Spotify.

So I checked Apple and Amazon, not there either. Nor Deezer Premium, which sometimes has different stuff because of European rules.

And I could find “Memory In The Making” on YouTube, but it didn’t have the richness of the original track, so…

I decided to look for the CD. Which is quite an effort in my house. Even after selling thousands there are still thousands left, and fewer than four digits are alphabetized. But there it was, under “K,” and I cracked the case which was worse for wear with its yellowed booklet and…

Turned on the amp and the CD player.

These are things I do rarely. Shortly after buying the NAD, the digital revolution in music occurred. I got the CD player a few years earlier, but…

Neither of my computers have CD drives. I was forced to power up the big rig.

And being late at night, I decided to listen on headphones. I broke out a pair of Sennheisers and the cord was long enough but the volume…

You see I decided to plug it directly into the Sony. Yup, this is the last CD player I’ll ever need. You put a weight on top of the disc, the disc moves not the laser. But I needed to control the volume with the remote and…

The remote didn’t work.

I figured it was a battery problem.

First I had to check if I had any AAs, everything is AAAs these days. But I had a pair. And then I pried off the cover of the remote and…

I was confronted with corrosion. The batteries had leaked. Wasn’t this why you bought Duracells, so this wouldn’t happen?

And my OCD flared up. I remember those batteries I had in my BMW 2002. They’d crap out every two or three years. I’d have to clean the battery posts to get the car to start. That’s where I learned the acid could burn you, because it did.

So I wanted to clean the battery compartment without ruining it. I’m delicate, but I oftentimes overdo it, to the item’s and my detriment. And it was a hard job. Took half an hour. I lost my appetite, and my interest in writing about John Kilzer. I was confronted with the passage of time.

This album came out thirty one years ago. Chances were Sony no longer stocked the remote. I saw my entire life in the rearview mirror. When you’re a kid products are history in a few years, an oldster keeps his stuff forever.

And after inserting new batteries, the remote…DIDN’T WORK!

I was deflated, after cleaning it with a paper clip and an old toothbrush.

Maybe I was out of range, maybe it was the angle I used it at, but no…nothing seemed to matter, it wouldn’t work.

So I removed the cover and checked the inside and still saw corrosion and checked that the batteries were installed in the right direction and…NOTHING!

And then I rotated the new Duracells and…IT WORKED!

But then I gave up. It was too depressing…trying stuff and having it not work. I confront this every day. There’s no tech help, replacement is easier than repair and life is imperfect, full of challenges, but hard to accept in this world of zeros and ones.

2

I went to lunch with John Kalodner. I played him Shawn Colvin’s yet to be released “Steady On” and he was not impressed, even though he ended up helping her get Grammys when he moved on to Columbia.

And after lunch at the Palm, where Kalodner had his skinless chicken as usual, we went back to the office and…

He opened the closet.

This used to be a feature of going to the office. We were record junkies. Discs and tapes fueled our habit. You didn’t want to be greedy, but this was back when music was scarce. If you didn’t take it, you might not ever hear it.

This was also when if a label signed it, it was worth hearing, even if it wasn’t a hit. Especially at Warner Brothers and Geffen.

And speaking of Warner Brothers, I was at the ski lodge shortly thereafter having lunch with Jeff Gold and in the closet I found Rhino Bucket’s debut, a band I hadn’t even heard of, it’s the best AC/DC album since “For Those About To Rock…”

And it was there, that day with Kalodner, that I took John Kilzer’s “Memory In The Making.” I think Zutaut had signed it, but I took both the cassette and the CD. The CD for home, and the cassette for the car.

3

And sometimes when I wake up in the morning
I sense her ghost on my pillow forming
Incense of imprints that leave me breathless

When I bought that BMW, which I drove for twenty years, I was debating whether to install an aftermarket stereo, like I had in my 2002. And my shrink at the time opened his mouth, I figured he was gonna put me down, which he eventually was prone to do, and said…

“One of the things you like to do most is drive around and listen to music. For someone else it’s an extravagance, but for you it’s a necessity!”

So I drove the car directly from Santa Monica BMW to Auto Stereo Warehouse on Beverly and dropped $2600 on ADS amps and speakers all around, with the best Alpine head unit. Boy did that stereo wail.

But that was back in ’85, at this point in ’89, my ex had just moved out. This was about fifteen months before I completely ran out of money. I’d drive that car and listen to…

The John Kilzer cassette.

The above lyrics are from the opening track on side two, “Loaded Dice.”

But the lines I sang along with were…

I can’t take no more of this baby

My internal angst, and her come and go, saying maybe we could live separately and still be married.

And:

I can’t take any more disappointments
I can’t take any more disappointments, baby

Like the song said, I didn’t know what to do with these feelings. It’s taken decades for me to find a place for them.

4

And then the radio got stolen.

It was not like today. When things work for a long time. This Alpine went on the fritz and needed to be replaced. For $500 I got a removable unit. This was back when they still stole car stereos, in the 2002 I lost five, before they switched to airbags, before it became about online scams.

To tell you the truth…

I didn’t remove it every time I left the car. I learned to do this.

I was just running in for a minute, which turned into about ten, but when I came back the glass was smashed and the radio was gone.

First I had to get the glass replaced. You can’t drive a car, never mind a BMW, anywhere with an open window.

And after getting that done…

I had no money for a new radio. I drove around in silence for a couple of months until my father gave me $500 for a new unit. The only good thing was I didn’t have to pay an installation fee, I just slid the new radio into the old frame.

But what I didn’t tell you was the cassette in the radio when it was stolen was…

John Kilzer’s “Memory In The Making.”

5

Once again, this was when music was scarce. You knew the music in your car by heart. Your glove box was filled with cassettes. It wasn’t until about five years hence that CD changers in the trunk became de rigueur.

6

Today you’re not impressed if someone makes a record. But back then, to get over the transom, to get a deal, was a really big thing.

And these were not the days of the internet, when information was available at our fingertips. Rather, we got stories in the rock press and…

Kilzer was definitely making rock music. With guitars. He played basketball in Memphis, had taught school, and now he was a musician. His voice wasn’t the best, but it was more than serviceable, and the tracks sizzled, I was hooked.

But the second LP, “Busman’s Holiday,” wasn’t as good.

And then Kilzer disappeared.

We heard he had substance abuse problems.

He became a pastor, and then he started making music again. But sans the major label budget…you could hear the difference. I feel the same way about James McMurtry. Live, it doesn’t make any difference. But on wax, all that money does.

7

Now the track on MTV, however briefly, was “Red Blue Jeans,” which was too generic to make an impression, launch a career, it’s better to come from left field.

And “Memory In The Making” is not one of those unheralded albums that’s phenomenal from start to finish, although to say it’s uneven would be too negative. But there were other memorable tracks on the LP, like “If Sidewalks Talked.” This was back when your LP was a statement of your identity, you’d waited this long, you might as well record what you want to. This was long before the endless wash of music, most of it me-too, when musicians were still considered artists and some in the straight world thought them so.

But “Memory In The Making” is most memorable for its title track.

8

Throwing roses at the moon
Overdosing on perfume
That arises from your picture
An inviolate fixture

Most rockers got soft at times. Albums had ballads, which were oftentimes the best cuts, even though the hair bands overdid it in search of a hit.

“Memory In The Making” is the type of track you’d hear on AC radio if there were any justice. It’s perfect for Sirius XM’s Bridge, but they only play songs you know by heart.

This is more than I expected
It’s as though I have erected
A mausoleum for my heart babe
I’ve reserved the best part babe

Men are the romantics. They suffer in silence. Oftentimes women don’t know about the crush, see the interaction as a minor fling, but to a man it’s everything. The music filled the space in a man’s heart where the love should go, welcome to the world of rock. You mind-melded with the artist. It wasn’t about bumping asses, it wasn’t about partying so much as feeling rooted, connected, with this music you could make it through.

Guess it only stands to reason
There’s a time and a season
A place and a purpose
I guess that verse don’t include us

9

Now that he’s gone don’t expect a huge bump in sales/streams for Kilzer. First and foremost, like I said you can’t stream or buy “Memory In The Making.” He’s gone. Floating off into the ether like the rest of our memories.

We lived for this music, it was everything. And then, while we were fighting the battles of the internet, it evaporated. We can go to see our heroes of yore, but something has shifted, it’s not like it used to be, and it’s not like sports, the game has definitely changed and it doesn’t include us.

But…

We used to buy guitars, we used to go out to feel and hear the sound. Our record collections were our most treasured possessions. And within those tracks lay our history and our identity.

And if this piece is more about me than Kilzer…

Maybe that’s the way it’s always been. The tracks are stones in the river, that we sometimes go back and touch, but we move on from them but they’re frozen in time. If we get to meet the artists we get a story, but not closure, for somehow we don’t know how they reached down deep into their souls to create this stuff, and so many of them are inscrutable anyway.

But John Kilzer had a place in my heart, in my life. Whenever I saw his name I perked up, I wanted more information, because he made that album thirty years ago, that got me through a bad time, that rode shotgun in my life.

“Memory In The Making”

“Loaded Dice”

Well, I guess they never read “The Tell-Tale Heart.”

Someone with no guilt is a sociopath. They may be nice to others face to face, but they’ll do what ever it takes to get what they want, casualties be damned.

We live in a sociopathic society.

How did this happen?

First, America lost its place as the inviolate, the undisputed leader. It started with Nixon and then Trump put a stake in its heart by removing the U.S.A. from compacts under the notion of “America First.” Just like “Loughlin First” and “Huffman First” and “Rich But Not Famous First.” You don’t get there by luck, and to stay there you have to continue to employ an edge. They try to assuage their guilt via charity, but even Trump didn’t complete the circle on that. They feel they’re entitled.

And we eat it all up until we don’t.

It was Reagan and the global economy that blew this country up. Reagan made greed good, Michael Douglas just articulated it in a movie. Suddenly there were people richer than the rest. And by time we hit the twenty first century it was clear you could not get to the destination unless you had certain privileges. Mostly, an elite education and connections. Funny how everybody at Harvard, not implicated in this scandal, helps each other. As for getting an MBA, that’s what it’s all about, who you meet, who you can leverage, what you learn in the classroom is nearly irrelevant.

And then came globalization. Inevitable and to our advantage. But not everybody’s advantage. If you weren’t educated, you were left behind. Oh, we heard about lottery winners, athletes, but the rank and file saw their gigs go overseas and suddenly they couldn’t afford the lifestyle they were accustomed to. They ended up divorced and on drugs.

But the elite considered them throwaway people. Not only the right wing elite, the left wing too. That’s why Hillary lost, she was out of touch. The scary little thing is the left wing elite is still out of touch. They think they earned their position. They worked hard, ’round the clock, and they want the benefits.

As for those people in front of them, they’re bending the rules, so why shouldn’t they?

Bill Gates is lauded for his philanthropy today, but let’s put him on the stand and ask him why he charged computer companies for Windows even if they didn’t put it in the box.

Or Steve Jobs. Cancer got him, but we want to know about his anti-poach agreements.

And when it comes to taxes, it’s open season, both corporate and personal. Hell, Romney paid a lower percentage than the worker bees. He paid people to manipulate the rules.

Just like these parents.

So that’s where we live, in a nation of greased poles. And it’s so competitive and so tough that if you kick someone down, if they get lost in the shuffle, well, that’s the cost of doing business.

As for business…

My second thought upon reading of this aberrant behavior was the price for the students. But as more news leaked out and we learned of the antics of “influencer” Olivia Jade Giannuli, I knew she too was in on the scam. Hell, all the students were, despite what is said. You know if your application says you’re an athlete. And you know if you lie to get extra time on the SAT. But we’ve got to protect the children. Maybe ultimately forgive them, but their wrists should be more than slapped, they should be kicked out of school immediately. Yup, instead of having the charmed life on the up and up they believe is their due.

Olivia Jade wanted special treatment so she could continue her “job.” She was overseas when school started. I remember going skiing with my parents and missing a week of school freshman year. I never did that again, I never caught up. Then again, I went to a school where every test was an essay, I still have dreams of needing to pass Spanish in order to graduate, despite having never gone to class. Foreign languages are the worst, because you can’t b.s. if you don’t know the language.

So I went to an elite college. It didn’t pay any financial dividends. It’s a small group of schools that do. Hell, no one west of the Mississippi had even heard of Middlebury until some students rioted recently. But that’s fine. Because in real life you make it on your wits.

But I did get to meet a lot of rich people. It taught me how to act amongst them. And that was worthwhile.

As for the classes… I learned how the world really worked. Old farts warding their power over you.

But there was an Honor Code.

There’s no honor in the world today.

My first thought upon reading the news was what was going through the minds of these parents? Are they completely amoral? There’s a school for everybody, and maybe your kid should go to the appropriate institution.

But they don’t want to disappoint little Avery and Brooke, so they deliver matriculation.

But the joke is life is long. What are you gonna do when the sunlight fades? I mean can you imagine the Kardashians as old people? They might end up rich, but what are they going to do all day? Read? Go to art museums? College is a foundation of your identity. Where you develop who you really are and discover what options you’ve got.

Believe me, nobody will be interested in Olivia Jade ten years from now, maybe not even ten minutes.

Then again, we’ve bastardized college by turning it into a glorified trade school.

And why is it USC that’s always in trouble?

And why don’t we banish athletics? What’s that got to do with learning?

Supposedly it builds character. But when the athletes are privileged and take different courses and don’t graduate, and the coaches make more than the professors, how can we call it an education?

And it is about money. Everybody wants it. Which is why these people took the bribes. All day long we’re bombarded by those with more than us, much more, we want our piece of the pie.

And then people lie on the stand, after placing their hand on the Bible.

And even though we were taught you would be caught, in most cases you’re not.

You’re protected by your fellow criminals. And there’s not enough law enforcement. Hell, Trump skated on his taxes. It’s easy to do when they keep diminishing the IRS. Then again, the elite only wants law enforcement to protect us from the underclass.

And here we have the big lesson. Why our country is divided.

Because the game is rigged. That’s the real education you need in life.

You’ve got to know someone to get a job. Look the other way when your boss behaves badly. Look out for yourself, because nobody else is.

So the rank and file lose traction and wake up being unable to pay their bills as their kids still live at home and…

And what?

They lower corporate taxes and the companies just give the savings back as dividends. There are no jobs created, no investment.

The rich can’t be penalized because they’re the “job creators.”

As for celebrities, everybody’s a brand now. If you’re just an actor, the joke is on you. You’re making baby products or health products or makeup… And the reason Gwyneth Paltrow is hated so much is because people are angry it’s not them. Believe me, those without cash are not thinking about Gwyneth, they can’t afford the entry fee.

But they can vote.

But they vote against their interests because they haven’t been educated enough to divine truth.

Meanwhile, the blame is put on teachers’ unions and everybody should be able to go to a charter school while the government pays for religious education and…

I read “The Tell-Tale Heart” in high school. Mrs. Hurley’s sophomore English class. That’s public school for you. She tested the limits, she didn’t give us a pass. She took us to the theatre, exposed us to Ferlinghetti, not for one moment did we think about our future business opportunities, we were there to LEARN!

You can learn all day long. That’s what’s great about the internet, it’s at your fingertips.

But these same elites keep decrying the smartphone, that’s been the big article on the “Times” for weeks, the guy who lived without his smartphone.

That’s like somebody living without Instacart or Uber.

The smartphone levels the playing field, gives power to those without it. Which is why in China they control it.

But that’s the elites, with their disinformation campaigns.

And the truth is no one is listening to anybody else. Falsehoods rule, they’re uttered by the President on seemingly an hourly basis, so why should you hew the straight and narrow?

Now the celebrities are cooked. The stink of this scandal is gonna stay with them forever. Just like the #MeToo perps.

As for their kids… Hell, Lizzie Grubman wised up, she took herself off the front lines after her bad behavior. Maybe Olivia Jade needs to have her internet privileges taken away, since she knows no responsibility. Make her be just a regular person from here on out.

But those with the real money, the rest of the abusers:

College-admissions bribery scandal: See full list of those charged

You don’t know ’em, they’re gonna get away with it.

Sure, they’ll be pariahs in their communities for a minute. But the truth is their circle does the same kind of thing, it’s all about an edge, the truth is people will applaud them, even if it’s only internally, wonder why they didn’t think of that.

And our country will soldier on.

In Iceland, they put the people who blew up the economy in jail, then they started over and the country is flourishing.

Nobody who crashed the economy here in 2008 went to jail. We were told it would hurt the economy.

Then Manafort doesn’t even get four years.

Are there two Americas?

You bet.

And we’re not moving towards the middle, we’re spreading apart.

Used to be your word was your bond, character was everything, education was a badge of honor, speaking to your identity and integrity.

Now a diploma is just another possession, part of your personal trousseau. Along with your smartphone and brand name clothing and followers online.

I’d say we have to get back to the garden, but it’s scrub because of global warming and we’re too busy eating junk food.

So, be forewarned, it’s every person for themselves these days.

It’s open season. The lesson of this episode is not to hew the straight and narrow, but to plumb the edges.

Ladies and gentlemen…START YOUR ENGINES!

Is today.

1

Well, spring is here
I feel it in the air
The world is turning green

“Spring Is Here”
Wendy Waldman

Actually, it was white in Colorado last week. At this time of year you never know, you can get slush or firm, but you don’t expect thirty inches of new snow. John was scared of the powder. Strasburg wanted to go into the trees. Felice didn’t even go out. But it felt like winter to me, and I love the winter. The warmth of coming inside after braving the cold. Having dinner at Sweet Basil, where that pork chop was served, as the wind swirls and the flakes fly.

But the snow was heavier than it was in December. And when the sun came out, the last few vertical feet were soft. And one day it even rained at the bottom, even though this never happened in the old days.

And when I got back to SoCal, it was still locked in its severe winter, i.e. the fifties. Heat was still required. Yesterday it even rained a bit. But when I exited the house today…

It was spring.

Not by the calendar, we’ll have to wait another week. But I could feel it, it was undeniably spring.

The wind is sweet
I smell it everywhere
And I know that God must be smiling

It was the angle of the sun, as the Beach Boys would put it, the warmth of the sun. And the wind, which was brisk, but not cold.

It brought me back to the east coast, where the seasons are definable, when I rode my bike to Keith’s house on the first moderate day only in my Yankees jacket and my mother put me in the tub to warm me up when I got home.

Major League Baseball didn’t start until April, but we were watching the Grapefruit League on TV, in black and white, and as soon as the field dried out, we went out and played. One person pitched, the other batted, then we’d run after, and ultimately walk after, the ball. It was a while before there were enough boys to play a game, but that didn’t stop us.

But that was back before we realized there were only so many springs, and so many falls.

After a minimal ski season last year, I was looking forward to a long one this year. And I’ve gotten plenty of days in so far, forty one to be exact, but I expected it to continue, I’m not ready for the world’s rebirth.

And Mammoth will be open until the Fourth of July at least, one of the benefits of living in California, you can surf and ski on the same day, and corn snow is my favorite, but still, it’s another year down the drain, I want to put on the brakes.

2

The first Wendy Waldman album, “Love Has Got Me” is a classic.

The second had growing pains, with part of it cut in Muscle Shoals.

And the third was completely ignored, but not by me.

It was stripped down instead of produced, it was sparse and intimate. But I didn’t hear it for nearly thirty years. It was lost in a divorce, not mine, and it was out of print, so it never resurfaced until…

Napster.

Without Napster you don’t have Spotify. You no longer have the ability to hear all the world’s music at your fingertips for one low monthly price.

And at first I was thrilled by the live tracks on Napster. I remember being wowed by the Samples’ “When It’s Raining.” And then that version of “Can’t Find My Way Home” by Bonnie Raitt. And then I started looking for personal rarities, songs I knew by heart but had lain dormant for years.

That’s when I tried to excavate Wendy Waldman’s eponymous third LP.

It had no hits. But so many of the LPs of yore did not. They were personal statements.

And the opening track, “Western Lullaby,” was on the greatest hits collection, it was the most known.

But it’s the stuff like the ultimately anthemic “Wings” that embedded themselves in your soul. Back when music had melody and was not rhythmic.

And then there was “Constant Companion.” Which sounds like lying on your bed contemplating your life. You know the opportunities, but you’re not quite ready to take action. And if it’s just you alone, you can make it with this music.

And the closing cut is a cover of the folk classic “Green Rocky Road.”

But the song that resonates most is “Spring Is Here.”

In the pre-iPod days, when everything was still difficult, when all the software was not integrated, we Aspenites were all gifted Rios, which I didn’t use until I put Napster on my computer, i.e. Macster. This was long before the iTunes Store.

But when I downloaded “Spring Is Here” I decided to break out my Rio. I wanted to transfer the track to it.

Which required me to install third party software and plug the Rio in via the USB port and drag and drop and watch the bar complete all the while wondering whether it would work, back then you still had to be a mechanic, you didn’t expect it to work the very first time, which is why the iPod was ultimately so successful.

And when the bars were complete, I disconnected the Rio, plugged in some headphones and pushed play. VOILA! That elation of instant success, the ability to hear my songs, MP3s, on the go.

And when I heard “Spring Is Here” I literally jumped up from chair and started dancing. It was nearly midnight but I opened the front door and danced on the sidewalk outside. I felt so good.

Like I do today.

Spring Is Here

P.S. You won’t listen to the playlist, you’re too busy, inundated with not only music, but news, TV and social networking. And you don’t want to feel a party of one, what is listening to this music gonna do for you? We’re all alienated today, looking to connect in the wilderness. Yesterday society was much more coherent and you were alienated from it, if anything you were looking to extract yourself from the scene with music, believing only the musicians understood you. But back when music was scarce, we listened to the albums we bought until we knew them by heart, and that was a good feelin’ to know. And if you like singer-songwriter music, this is for you.

P.P.S. Wendy Waldman never made it as a solo artist. Ultimately she succeeded as a producer and songwriter. But when I compare her forgotten LPs to what passes for hit stuff today I shake my head. By time “Wendy Waldman” was released, in ’75, opportunities were receding for those without hits, AOR radio was codified and dictated. Maria Muldaur had success with one of Wendy’s songs, but she didn’t break through. A song doesn’t have to be a hit to be great. But you’ve got to have experience and talent to make it so.

P.P.P.S. Wendy is still working. She’s studying classical composition at Cal State Northridge. You see it wasn’t about the riches and the fame, but the music. Which is why the thread of credibility runs through her work. We can tell if you’re doing it for the right reasons.