That’s right, the former head of Ticketmaster whose new startup Rival seeks to disrupt ticketing.

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Who Is Michael Ovitz?

I couldn’t put it down.

But you may be able to. Unless you lived through it, unless you were addicted to the movies, unless you followed the twists and turns of the entertainment business in the last century you’ll be confused, you’ll understand the lessons but won’t know the names, and you’ll end up wondering if the lessons are worth it, if it’s all right to be this person, first and foremost one with almost no insight into himself.

Have you ever been to therapy? I don’t mean a course of six weeks, in the midst of a crisis, with someone on the plan. That’s crisis counseling, done by someone far from qualified. The truth is the best therapists don’t take insurance, they’re uber-expensive, and you’ve got to go for years to truly benefit, and if you do, you’ll gain insight into yourself, not only who you are but how you come across, how people see you.

Michael Ovitz needs more therapy. With someone he respects, who he can’t agent into subordination. The perks of power are legendary, they can make almost anyone cave. The parties, the planes… If you’re lucky you’ll get a shrink who’s unimpressed by all that, but that is hard to do in Los Angeles. But Ovitz desperately needs it, because he’s got no sense of self. He keeps apologizing for the past, but with a lack of understanding of how he comes across, both now and then. I mean why write this book? It’s too late to be fascinating to most of America, Ovitz is only writing to cement his legacy, to give his viewpoint, to take a victory lap and soften the image a bit. At least Mike took a fall, unlike Clive Davis, who is still spreading the myth that he’s Mr. Music, Clive’s book was unreadable. Then again, Clive impacted the culture a lot less than Ovitz, despite his belief to the contrary. One hit single can move mountains, assuming said single is straight from the heart, with meaning, but Clive specialized in cobbling together hits, putting the pieces together, excising the excitement, trying to inject himself into an arena where he did not belong, one of musical talent and creativity. At least Ovitz knows he has no talent. But he still thinks he deserves a lasting legacy. But only artists get that. Hell, even Steve Jobs’s memory is fading away.

So we venerate the rich, mostly for their money, but we make up a story how they got that cash. We believe they’re brilliant, sometimes true, and deserving, oftentimes untrue. We eliminate the elements of luck and timing, but still, we want what they have, or at least we think we do. Read this book and you’d never want to be Ovitz and you wouldn’t want to work at CAA either. All of these execs believe they’re the talent, have contempt for the talent, but the truth is those mercurial people who bend your ear and can’t seem to show up on time are the true innovators, the true stars. And the smart ones are aware they’ve only got one chance, which is why choices are pondered endlessly, why they oftentimes say no, you see they realize it’s their only chance, whereas the agent, the executive, can always sign another performer.

The stories seem so small now. The desire to get into movies when now the action is all in television. Packaging films. Sure, there were some great ones, but I bet most millennials don’t know most of them.

And the move into M&A, “mergers and acquisitions” for the uninitiated. Entertainment deals seem miniscule in comparison to Silicon Valley, where everybody is a billionaire, which you cannot achieve in Hollywood unless you hook your star to some product that goes nuclear, far outside the wheelhouse you became famous for. These people are like Ovitz, they keep score with cash. A great artist keeps score with influence. And they’re not always the same. Bob Dylan sold a fraction of the number of albums of the Beatles, but he was equally influential, or close.

And what’s it worth?

You wince when Ovitz says how much he enjoys his relationship with the teenage daughter of his honey, Tamara Mellon. You don’t need to have taken a psychology course to know that he missed the teenage years of his own children.

But this is a guy with all the answers, who only believes in going forward. He self-reflects for a minute and then plunges ahead. When he starts dropping Silicon Valley names at the end of the book you start to laugh, you know a couple, like Marc Andreessen and Peter Thiel, but he goes on and on as if any of us care. We don’t. Tech is now in the rearview mirror just like entertainment. Both have now been superseded by politics, by societal problems. And speaking of those, Ovitz has the hubris to say his plan was always to give back, in the government, for the last third of his career. No, people like him should stay home and enjoy their creature comforts, Mike may be a good negotiator, but someone who knows so little about himself can never get in touch with the problems of everyday people. Hell, Sylvester Stewart demonstrated more compassion in a single song!

So the book just ends up being sad. You neither feel compassion nor disdain for Ovitz at the end, you just hope he stays out of the public eye and you never have to hear about him again. I don’t want to minimize his achievements, he definitely pushed the envelope, but then he burned out, he didn’t know how to create a second act, despite believing he has. Just more delusion to add to the fire.

But if you read this book, you’ll end up contemplating your own choices. And you’ll feel good about being honest, avoiding duplicity, being straight up. And if you’re none of these things you’ll lionize Ovitz and try to be like him, and the joke will be on you.

My heart belongs to Philadelphia Freedom.

And Elton John.

After the show he stood up and gave me a big hug, I was confused, I had my rap all ready, to explain who I was, BUT HE ALREADY KNEW! DAVID TOO!

I was bewildered. Flummoxed. What do you say when your hero treats you like a friend?

YOU DISCUSS RECORDS, THE BUSINESS!

Elton LOVES Brandi Carlile.

Proving we’re all the same under the skin, except he’s a lot more famous, and a lot more rich. Hell, I ain’t got no money, but I’m rich on PERSONALITY! Ain’t that what Prince sang? That’s rock and roll, where your identity means more than your bank account, and we all pray at the altar of music.

When Elton broke I was in my first year of college. In the hinterlands, in Vermont. I’d read that “Your Song” was a hit, but I’d only heard it once, the track I cottoned to, became enamored of, that I had to play every day when I came home from skiing was…

TAKE ME TO THE PILOT!

And Elton did tonight.

Take me to the pilot of your soul, mine is in music, you forget at this late date, and then you hear one of these songs performed live and you’re taken back to what once was and it’s all there in color, in 3-D, that’s the power of music, it makes the past COME ALIVE!

And the first time I saw Elton it was at Carnegie Hall, in the spring of ’71, it was after “Friends” but before “Madman” and Elton introduced a new number, “Indian Sunset,” and he played it again tonight, it was a highlight, I could see my sophomore dorm room in Voter Hall, spinning that record as I fell asleep, with a timer to turn the stereo off. This was back before iPods, before even boom boxes, you could only listen to your music at home, and I did, incessantly.

And I remember driving on Route 30 in my ’63 convertible with the top down on a day like today, with a crispness in the air, singing along to “Saturday Night’s (Alright For Fighting),” and I did as well tonight. When was the last time you went to a show where you knew every song? NEVER!

And it’s kind of odd, Elton says he’s retiring, but he’s so alive. You’re supposed to ply the boards until we wince, hope you’re gone, but Elton seems to just be hitting his stride, although his knees are hurting and he ambles as opposed to strides, but when he puts his digits on the ivories it’s like no time has gone by, furthermore he does not use a teleprompter, he remembers every word, JUST LIKE YOU AND ME!

Now this is a greatest hits show, and Elton says it’s the songs the band likes to play, and the troupe is lean. With original Nigel Olsson on skins with bass drums that look like cannons and Davey Johnstone with long blonde hair and…it’s amazing what one guitarist can do. And Ray Cooper’s on percussion, and Kim Bullard adds some keyboards and there’s another drummer and a bassist and by not mentioning their names I’m pissing them off but the truth is this is a throwback to what once was, when you had a combo, and that was enough. This was a band, and their goal was to rock our socks off.

So they opened with “Bennie And The Jets.” When you have this many hits, you don’t have to save them.

And then “All The Young Girls Love Alice,” from deep into “Yellow Brick Road,” it was one of my absolute favorites, and to hear it performed tonight made the circle complete. I remember walking in the leaves, the double LP came out in the fall, noticing the girl named Alice on campus, but then she transferred and I never saw her again, but this song always brings her back.

And by the intro I knew it was “Border Song.” That was nearly fifty years ago, but only yesterday in my mind. Funny about aging, the digit counter keeps turning but inside you feel just the same.

But the piece de resistance of the first half of the show was “Tiny Dancer.” I bought “Madman Across The Water” over school vacation, I played it that whole month of January 1972. This was before “Tiny Dancer” became legendary, before it was in “Almost Famous,” and when I heard the intro tonight…

It brought tears to my eyes. I don’t remember the last time I cried at a show. I was crying for what once was and what still is, marveling that I’m still the same person but so much time has passed. That I’ve followed this thread of rock and roll all these many decades and I’m a lifer, and I’m not the only one.

And “Burn Down The Mission” was not the finale, as it was in the early days.

And I could have been one of the few who knew “Believe,” but I continue to do so, Elton’s had nine lives. When he was done on the charts, he triumphed on film and on Broadway and there are very few legends, but he’s one of them.

And when he played “Don’t Let The Sun Go Down On Me” I remembered buying “Caribou” just after graduating from college, discovering I had the same shirt he wore on the cover.

And that let into BITCH!

Now it was time to stand up and dance. It was an involuntary exercise, I couldn’t sit still. I thought of Mark Stiegemeier playing it as he skied the bumps at Snowbird, at the freestyle world championships back in ’75.

That’s right, the bitch is back.

Stone cold sober as a matter of fact. After raising $400 million to fight AIDS.

And the show went on and on. With a costume change. With solo and band numbers. And as the gig wore on you could see Elton sweat, he was not painting by numbers, he was into it, just like Ian Stewart when the Stones began, only in this case Elton’s piano was the main instrument.

How come some people are so good? Are they born with it? Blessed?

Then again, Elton said he and Bernie wrote songs that no one covered. So they demoed them and took them on the road, they were forced to, they didn’t expect the supernova.

But that’s what happened. Album after album, year after year.

I only lament the fact we’re never gonna see the whole album shows. You know, “Elton John,” “Tumbleweed Connection”…and even though Elton says it’s a throwaway, I’d love to hear “Don’t Shoot Me I’m Only The Piano Player,” just to hear “Elderberry Wine” and “Teacher I Need You.”

It was different then. The Beatles had established the paradigm, everybody was following in their footsteps, everybody wanted to be a star. But the difference with Elton was he was a fan. Still is. They send him fifty tracks to check out for his Beats 1 radio show, but that’s not enough, he’s still checking out more. And when you come from a place of fandom you’re humble and enthusiastic, you know you’re part of a great musical tradition and proud to be so.

And you are too. And so am I.

It was all we had, it was all we needed. TV was “My Mother The Car” and “Mr. Ed,” sugar without nutrition. You needed music to survive. We were addicted to the radio, we salivated over new releases, we thought if our favorite stars came over for dinner our lives would be made.

My life’s pretty much been written in stone. I can’t change the past, and there’s only a little time to steer in the future. But looking back tonight, I feel that I have not wasted my life. And believe me, I wonder. I have no kids. My wife left me. I had horrific surgeries. I don’t own a home, but if Elton John knows who I am, what else can I ask for?

NOTHING!

I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

Maybe music is driving the culture again.

I’ve been addicted to the Saudi story.

It’s still not at the top of the Fox News website, nowhere near. Instead you’ve got gossip and anti-Democrat memes. How’s a poor boy to find out what’s going on in the world?

By listening to pop stars.

And ironically they’re all women.

First Taylor Swift, whose previous idea of weighing in was criticizing boys who could not bite back publicly. Suddenly she does a 180 and takes a stand.

Now we’ve got Rihanna. Now that the right wing press is saying the controversy is over, that NFL ratings have recovered, one of our biggest pop stars is adding gas to the Kaepernick fire, keeping it alive. Way to have a backbone, way to stand up for what you believe in, way to impact the narrative, the aforementioned culture.

And what you’re gonna hear is the right wing screaming that she should shut up and go back to where she came from, which in this case is Barbados, but her birthplace does not prevent her from having an educated opinion. And why is it the Republicans keep being anti-immigrant while their children embrace the aliens? This is the same kind of hypocrisy that has these same children embracing African-American culture while their parents are racists and vote against their own interests. Just because parents are dumb, that does not mean children should be too. Hell, these same children are rejecting religion, check the statistics, and in these troubled times I’m willing to give up my faith as long as everybody else does too, what are we living in the Middle Ages, the time of the Crusades? We’re still fighting wars over religion? How antiquarian.

But it gets worse Dick Cheney. This is when the past comes back to haunt you. You endorse torture in Guantanamo and then what are you to say when enemies torture us? You don’t have ground to stand on. Furthermore, America used to be the world’s cop, and the world’s higher power, the arbiter of right and wrong. But now the Supreme Court is biased and far from impartial and our President is so busy alienating others in the name of “America First” when the truth is we live in a global economy and if you think otherwise, be prepared to pay $2500 for a flat screen and two grand for a mobile phone. Then again, the chief economist is a TV star, just like the President.

And it all comes down to money. Yup, we’ve got to stay on the Saudis’ good side when a mere pop star who lives on the whim of the people is willing to take a stand and in the process alienate potential customers. But what a beacon! If you don’t take a stand, no one can bond to you. Rihanna went from cardboard personality to 3-D instantly. She’s thinking about it, she wants to do what’s right, as opposed to all those pop stars who took the cash to play for dictators.

And of course if you comb through Rihanna’s history I’m sure you’ll find flaws, contradictions, but the truth is she is not running for office and she’s not a politician. Real people make mistakes, change their opinions, as opposed to Kavanaugh who could not own up to the fact that he liked to drink in school, sometimes to excess. Lying about it is like Justin Timberlake throwing Janet Jackson under the bus after the exposed titty at the Super Bowl. Timberlake claimed innocence, Les Moonves had a vendetta against Jackson, he truly hurt his career.

But now women are doing it for themselves.

We’re sick of old white men telling us they know better. About women’s bodies. Paying fealty to a racist leader who most people hate.

Meanwhile, Nike takes a risk with Kaepernick and sales go through the roof.

You see people want something to believe in. And they were going along somnambulantly for too long. Then Trump woke them up. And those who triumphed based on sleepiness don’t like this, they don’t like people taking action, so they resort to character assassination as opposed to arguing on the merits.

Come on, without African-Americans, the NFL folds. But the leaders of the league, afraid of the President, unlike Taylor Swift and Rihanna, have the players working on Maggie’s Farm. Sure, it’s good money, but should you be treating people like slaves? How about a little dignity? And football players have a lot more impact on the populace than faceless politicians… They keep on wanting to keep athletes and musicians down, as if their vote wasn’t as important as those of the corporatists.

It’s a new day.

That’s right, we haven’t had that spirit here since 1969, but it’s BACK!

There’s something here, and it’s becoming very clear.

Women have a voice. And they’re sick and tired of being told it’s not truthful, that they run on hormones, that they shouldn’t make as much, that they should stay home and raise babies.

And in an era of whacked economics, where the corporations get richer and the people get poorer, people with some money are standing up for those who don’t have it.

The right wing keeps talking about freedom?

What freedom is that? To kill one of ours on foreign soil and get away with it?

To take away health care from our citizens?

To lower taxes so infrastructure fades? To demonize taxes so our nation goes bankrupt? To let fat cats cheat and pay no taxes at all?

To spread falsehoods so that they can win and we can lose?

No, those days are through. They woke up the sleeping giant.

And you know how this works. The complacent suddenly take action. The misinformed question their preconceptions and change their opinions and…

One individual can change the course of history, never forget it. That’s how we got the Arab Spring, look at the work of Steve Jobs.

America is a tinderbox. We’re sick and tired and we just cannot take it anymore. We’re sick of being oppressed by those with a smaller constituency, who do not have our interests at heart.

They may have the fat cats, but we have the entertainers. And no matter how much they denigrate them, the truth is that’s what Laura Ingraham and Tucker Carlson are, entertainers, it’s the same damn world, and the truth is ours are more powerful with a much greater reach than theirs. And expect blowback, all the right wing does is work the refs.

But can they win the game?

Maybe not anymore.

We will see.