Blame it on distribution.

This is the year we discovered Facebook and Google were the enemy. We were taught for so long that content was king that we forgot he or she who presents the news is the ultimate arbiter. And what we’ve got is a skewed picture.

Meanwhile, the traditional news organizations impacted society greatly, after they were completely written off. The “New York Times” starting the #MeToo movement by exposing Harvey Weinstein and the “Washington Post” preventing the election of Roy Moore by the amplification of the stories of the women he abused.

Where does this leave us?

In a country where the will of the people does not prevail. 80% are for net neutrality yet it is scrapped. They want health care and it is decimated. Meanwhile, the fake news of those perpetrating these crimes against humanity are amplified.

That’s the story of Brexit. That’s the story of the United States. How falsehoods were given sunlight and the public was snookered.

Brexit was gonna save the NHS. Trump was gonna drain the swamp. Untruths have existed for all time, but in the internet era the waters are muddied and what is not true is perceived to be.

We are in a crisis of truth.

Isn’t that funny, wasn’t digital supposed to eliminate the fudge? Make it so we got accurate numbers? But it turns out paper ballots were more accurate than voting machines and the story of the coming year is this gap between truth and falsehood and who will arbiter it.

Not that the internet is only a source for bad. It amplified the obfuscation in the Grammy process. Who is the secret committee and how do they decide what is ultimately nominated?

But the Grammys are just a representation of the country at large. Elite groups usually comprised of men snookering the rest of us believing we will not find out, never mind care. They keep telling us it’s for our best.

Not that I want to lionize the underclass, which is most of the rest of us.

The poor and uneducated are just that. They can’t discern the truth.

And the educated believe they are better, know everything and are entitled. We are no longer a country of sacrifice, but me too.

So where to start?

Once again, laud the traditional news outlets. I.e. the newspapers, with boots on the ground. There are really only two left, the aforementioned NYT and WaPo. The rest have all shuttered their staffs in pursuit of profitability, and now their margins are preserved but they’ve got no impact, like the “Los Angeles Times.” As for TV, it’s all opinion all the time, and we’ve got enough of that, we want facts. But facts are expensive. But the truth is facts have impact. If only news outlets didn’t seem to have the need to be as profitable as banks. Everybody wants to be as profitable as banks. So the news outlets have been calling foul on Trump, the liar, and this is a good sign, and a big difference from what came before, the era of false equivalencies is over, or at least dying.

But when it comes to the internet, we must understand what we’ve heard for years is true, we are the product. Neither Facebook nor Google exists without us. There’s no there there. They’re trying to build video businesses, but right now those are a de minimis part of the profits. No, it’s your posted content that keep them alive. And they are truly evil. Because they pursue profits over people, and we are a nation of humans. Between them they control 80% of online advertising. They know more about you than your mother, your brother and sister, and you sit idly by as they say you are their friend.

As for Amazon… It killed the mall this year. Physical retail is dying. Those who say otherwise are those who believe in radio. But best not to shoot the messenger. Amazon knows the future, which is we love convenience and will pay for it. Anybody who lobbies against this, especially liberals demanding the return of manufacturing and Main Street, should be ignored. At some point Amazon will become too powerful, it’s not quite there yet, but keep this in mind.

As for Apple… This is the gang that can’t shoot straight, it will burn out by itself. It’s great that the Cupertino company is pursuing privacy, but the problem is its days of dominance died with the iPod. And we live in an era of dominance.

So what should you do?

Educate yourself. Gather information from both sides. Trust sources. That’s another thing the internet has eviscerated, experts, who were puffed up and feeling infallible until the internet revealed their flaws. Yes, we’ve pulled them down from their thrones but the truth is those who pay their dues and live in the trenches are worth listening to more than the playful pundit who is looking for likes.

We all can’t be liked. Truth is more important than accolades.

So as we enter 2018 know that everything is up for grabs. A lot of what you’ve been told is untrue. The government is good for you. You drive on the roads and appreciate your building doesn’t collapse and the fire department shows up upon conflagration, right? The newspapers are not going to die, just most of them. And everything will not be free online, if anything we’re moving to an era where you pay, and those who don’t become second class citizens.

You built Facebook. You built Google. You built Instagram. They were fun for a while, but they’ve turned upon you. With the profits their owners have hollowed out society. Adolescent bros with no concept of society have turned it topsy-turvy, made it into their own special playground, while you somnambulantly played along.

I’d say it’s every person for themselves, but this is untrue. There is power in people, in groups. That’s the story of the coming year. How the will of the people has impact. It may be something you feel more than read about, but it is real. Consolidation and income inequality have left us with the short end of the stick. We are looking for not only a voice, but protection. And the only people who are going to give it to us are ourselves.

Your life is not about the pursuit of happiness, but the pursuit of survival. That’s what’s on the line, the American way of life. And it’s not a rural no-think world, but a cohesive society where everyone has a voice and everyone is equal. Where the will of the people is heard.

But that’s hard to do in this era of disinformation.

That’s the challenge.

But we’re up to it.

I hope.

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

“Better Side Of Life”
Emitt Rhodes

My favorite album of the past two years is Emitt Rhodes’s “Rainbow Ends.”

At this point we’re disappointed by the new work of our heroes. It’s like they’ve lost the formula, what made them great to begin with. They’re afraid of losing touch with who and what they once were and they end up concocting music that sounds too much like what they’ve already done and it leaves us blah. That element of surprise, of limit-testing, is gone. So what are the hopes of an aged barely ever been?

Nearly zero.

But “Rainbow Ends” is a revelation.

Imagine if you were the same person you ever were. Threw off the trappings and were your naked nineteen year old self, but with all the experience of the ages wearing you down. Then you’d have “Rainbow Ends.”

I don’t know how people grow up, become mature, buy a house, have children, wear expensive suits and act like an adult. I certainly haven’t. Not that I exactly ever desired to. But the whole world changed and I didn’t, which is quite confounding. And at this point I’m not sure where to turn because now there’s a dividing line, between winners and losers, those who’ve adjusted and those who have not, those economically sufficient and those complaining that they are not. And the conundrum is that the winners are so much more satisfying to hang with, because they’re not bitching that they’ve been screwed. As for myself, I don’t feel I got the wrong end of the stick, I went on my own journey, I’m willing to sacrifice in a world where no one seems willing to. I don’t feel I’m entitled to anything, I don’t expect anything to work out, which is why I’m so surprised when it does. Like “Rainbow Ends.”

He doesn’t sound like Emitt Rhodes anymore. Not a McCartney clone, but your uncle who watches football and drinks beer and sings in a gruff voice. But it’s as if someone paused the world with the remote control and this puffy man stood up and started to sing and dance, tell his truth. And it’s my truth too.

It’s hard to explain how we were enthralled with melody, good voices, in an era where you couldn’t fake it, where you had to have the talent and the chops, which Emitt Rhodes certainly had, which are still evidenced in his new work. He speaks about the modern condition, on the losing end of a marriage, but he still has his hopes intact, he still dreams it will work out. That’s the essence of “Rainbow Ends”‘s title track.

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

Which is inside a record for me. I put on these tunes and I feel cocooned, I have the belief that things will work out. My mind is set free and…

I wanna be somewhere in the sun
Getting tanned having fun
I wanna be with the ones I love
Hold them close give them hugs

I can picture it in my mind, even if it never comes to pass, I believe it’s possible, the years have caused attrition, but there’s still that spark. And when I want to feel rooted with hope I put on “Rainbow Ends.”

So I put it on last night, and marveled how it’s the same guy yet different.

So I decided to go back to the beginning.

It’s really about that initial ABC/Dunhill album. If it was released today it would be a revelation, a distillation of the essence of Paul McCartney filtered through west coast rock. If Emitt was on TV tomorrow the judges would be stupefied into silence, when they could ultimately speak, after exhortations of perfection they’d say how “With My Face On The Floor” was a number one record.

It wasn’t.

Emitt Rhodes was caught in the schism between AM and FM. He was not a pop wimpster and all his contemporaries had moved to the FM dial but he was too poppy for that band. Still, when you dropped the needle…

And “Fresh As A Daisy” belonged on one of those McCartney LPs as much as the bard from Liverpool’s did.

But the song from that first album that resonated with me most last night was “Somebody Made For Me,” because we all dream there’s someone made for us, but really it’s the construction of the song.

And when you buy an LP as special as this, you buy the follow-up, at least you did when we paid money and didn’t care if they hit only that they fulfilled us. 1971’s “Mirror” isn’t quite as special as its predecessor, but it’s less slick and has peaks just as high, like “Love Will Stone You,” it will, but you’ll come down, that’s what the song says. We used to debate these lyrics endlessly back when that’s what you did in college, before the era of diversions. But the song that transfixed me at two in the morning was “Better Side Of Life.”

Everything that ever was will never be again
We’re only lonely people now wondering where we’ve been

It’s the human condition. You’re alone. I don’t care how many people are around you, brothers/sisters, lovers/friends. They cannot get into your brain, never know what you really feel, your only hope is you can resonate and catch a connection every once again. But the strange thing is we identify most, feel least alone, when we connect with art.

Rarely does it take you more than once or twice to learn
That love is so much deeper when you let the fever burn

There’s a fever. Deep in your heart, your chest, when a record resonates. You feel like you belong on the planet, that all your choices were good and you know what you’re doing.

Proving, once again, that art is best when it’s personal, inward-looking, not worrying about external perception, but trying to hew to its own inner tuning fork.

The funny thing about Emitt Rhodes is he’s still the same guy. Doing his best but ending up with the short end of the stick. But none of us win all the time, usually the opposite is true, no matter how much success you’ve had. You lose your job, your fame, you never have another hit, your spouse leaves you, dies, your children won’t talk to you, then what?

Loneliness will capture you in moments of despair

Ain’t that true, it’s the scourge of life. We spend our entire lives trying to avoid, eradicate it. And despite our best efforts, this is sometimes impossible to do. We go to a party, we go to a club, and we can only wish we were at home, we feel even more alienated, in a bubble, everybody’s having fun, why can’t we?

And the older you get the more downtrodden you become, you don’t even make the effort. Abodes are full of baby boomers who’ve given up, watching their television sets, not risking connection because they’ve been hurt too much. Opiates gain deserved attention, but loneliness is the real plague of modern life, when you no longer have to leave home to live, many people don’t.

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

I know this sounds contradictory, but that’s Emitt Rhodes in a nutshell, just when he’s screaming towards the cliff he pulls up and decides not to drive off, he still has hope.

I hope you still do too.

The holidays are tough.

So put on your favorite record, pull up your favorite TV show, know that the creators are just like you, with more questions than answers, soldiering on until they feel safe and comfortable.

Like I do listening to Emitt Rhodes.

The Better Side of Life – Spotify

1

I lied to get the job and and then he wanted to give me the store.

College graduation is one of the few things that’s weirder than legend, even worse than “The Graduate,” because there’s no Mrs. Robinson and Katharine Ross to rescue you. You’re just going through the paces, stepping on the stones, and then they end, disappear, gone. Where do you go now?

Now this was back in ’74, a very different era from today. Nobody I knew saw a recruiter on campus, no one I knew went to graduate school, we were free, to do what?

I decided to move to Alta, Utah, for the most guaranteed snow in America, I lined up a job as a waiter and that…left me two months until ski season started. So I drove to L.A. to visit my sister and she said I could stay if I got a job. And in those days of a thick L.A. “Times” and no Craigslist I pondered the classifieds and found this gig at Star Sporting Goods on Highland Ave., right next to Hollywood High.

The owner was cheap. He said he was gonna check my false references, but he could never get up early enough to call the east coast before the rates changed, so he gave me the gig anyway. And, like I said, a month later, the store, but he didn’t know I was planning to exit for Utah at that point, which I ultimately did.

And my gig was to sell skis. Which I did quite well. Although I only sold what I wanted to, what I believed in, you can take the man out of his environment, but you can’t change who he is.

And throughout this rambling establishment there were speakers, attached to a stereo right by our department, and we played KLOS. KMET was just a bit too edgy for our customers, but KLOS weeded the weird and still satiated us and that’s where I heard “Junior’s Farm.”

Paul McCartney was coming off the massive success of “Band on the Run,” unforeseen after what had come before. He was wandering in the wilderness, “Wild Life” execrable, came back with “My Love” but that was wimpy, and then he returned to snatch the crown? And not long after the title track of McCartney’s apotheosis faded from the radio this little gem exploded on the airwaves. It kept me going. The energy. Carried me through as it was late September and I really should have been back in school, where I ultimately went, but that was a mistake.

2

I was talking to Eddie Izzard, who was surprisingly voluble, about the show, about the political situation, when I saw Paul and Nancy emerge from their dressing quarters and stride towards the exit. This was my chance, not because I needed to talk to a Beatle, but because I had something to say. There were fewer than ten people still in attendance, I wanted to praise his performance, I told him it reminded me of the live take of “Junior’s Farm” that was such a huge hit.

And Paul turned on a dime, twisted his head, as only he can do, as we’ve seen in so many stills and videos, and he looked me in the eye and said that was COMING UP!

So funny in a world where rock stars say they don’t remember, that they don’t own their own records, never mind don’t listen to them.

Of course he was right. The past instantly came into focus. How did I commit such a faux pas?

He took Nancy’s hand, swiveled back, and left.

There’s a studio take of “Coming Up,” it’s excellent, it’s exuberant, it’s got energy. But it wasn’t a hit, not in the U.S., because the live version from Glasgow had that little something extra, it wasn’t perfect, the intro wasn’t as in your face, the vocal wasn’t as spot-on, but it sounded like a band, on stage, trying to chase its own song. You felt you were in the audience trying to hold on to the railcar as it left the station, this is a show, when it’s not about documentation, but experience, about being in the moment.

And I thought of all this when I couldn’t fall asleep last night. I confused the tracks once again in my brain, thinking that “Junior’s Farm” was the live one, even though I remembered my conversation with McCartney. And as I’m pulling up the tracks in the services, I decide to do some research.

That’s when I found out there really was a Junior’s Farm.

The great thing about being a legend is there’s a dissection of your history online. And it turns out “Coming Up” was built from the drum track up on McCartney’s farm in Glasgow. This is a studio concoction, a story we hear all the time, writing in the room.

But Junior’s Farm was a real place.

Wings went to Nashville to cut and they stayed at Claude “Curly” Putnam, Jr.’s farm. He vegetarianized it for him. And the experience ultimately inspired McCartney to write “Junior’s Farm.”

Let’s got, let’s go,
Down to Junior’s Farm where I wanna lay low
Low life, high life, oh let’s go
Take me down to Junior’s Farm
Everybody tag along

And we all did. The track made it to number three, when those statistics were kinda irrelevant, everybody was listening to the FM dial, where the song dominated. We bopped our heads, sang along to the chorus, loved the cut, but didn’t know why.

Because it was real. Inspired from real experience.

We’ve been influenced by the techies, by the MBAs, all their b.s. which has nothing to do with art. They talk about pulling all-nighters, working 24/7, failing to achieve excellence, but that’s not how you do it in art. In art you hone your chops and wait…

For inspiration.

You never know when it will strike. You’ve just got to be open to it. Catch it when you can.

You’re wandering through life and it takes a left turn and a synapse fires.

Hell, I wasn’t even going to write this and then I opened the front door to delivered food and it boosted my mood, VOILA!

If you’re an artist you’ve got to live. It’s more important than Facebooking and Instagramming, one moment of excellence can put you over the top. “Junior’s Farm” had no album in an era when all tracks on FM did. But it was good enough on its own to triumph. That’s the nature of art. When we experience it, when it’s done right, we can’t get enough of it, it resonates in some indescribable way.

Like “Junior’s Farm.”

P.S. “At the houses of Parliament/Everybody’s talking ’bout the President/We all chip in for a bag of cement” Nixon had just resigned. This contemporized the song. And illustrated a viewpoint. The more sharp edges in your song the bigger the chance they’ll pierce the audience, stick to them.

P.P.S. “I took my bag into a grocer’s store/The price is higher than the time before/Old man asked me ‘Why is it more?'” You may not have experienced inflation, but it was rampant back then. McCartney is illuminating a slice of life, which we can relate to. Or could.

Junior’s Farm – Spotify

I still can’t believe Tom Petty’s dead.

I’ve been living in the aughts. I decided to go to my bootleg site, where I used to live fifteen years ago, after the death of Napster. There was this Jackson Browne concert from Hamburg in ’93 that was jaw-dropping, cut straight to my soul, “Late For The Sky” may have been nearly twenty years old but it sounded as fresh as ’74.

But then I heard Elton John with the Royal Philharmonic and it was so good, SO SO GOOD, that I couldn’t believe it was real. I keep going back to it. Was he really that talented? How could anybody sing so perfectly? I tingled as I listened.

And then I came across Petty.

Now Petty didn’t achieve stardom overnight. As a matter of fact, his initial LP didn’t even make a splash. He was considered a punk when he wasn’t on a label with little traction and he didn’t gain any notice until he went to England and a buzz began.

Then it translated to Los Angeles. That’s right, Tom may have been from Florida, but he’s as L.A. as you or me, the land of transplants, those who grew up listening and watching and just had to get the hell out of where we were and come to the coast to be free, to be our best selves.

And what broke him through was not “American Girl,” but a live version of “Breakdown,” with a breakdown, they played it all the time on KROQ, back when that was a free-format station, probably the hippest station of L.A., before anybody knew Kevin and Bean existed.

But then it started to spread.

To the big kahuna, KMET. And its more corporate dialmate KLOS.

But before that, KWST. The Led Zeppelin station. At 105.9. Up by KROQ. Where those who believed in rock and roll, loud and fuzzy, still lived.

This recording was from a KWST live broacast, from Capitol Studio A, that breakout year of 1977. And it includes Tom’s cover of “Don’t Bring Me Down.”

Other than that the tracks are from the debut, as well as “Listen To Her Heart” and a cover of “Shout,” but if you lived in L.A. back then, you heard this live take of “Don’t Bring Me Down” on the radio, and it shattered you.

The Animals.

They don’t get no respect. If Eric Burdon O.D.’ed or died in a plane crash forty five years ago he’d be a legend, but he lived on, he’s still here, but that voice, that darkness, that blues-influenced sound, it cuts to the bone.

And Petty knew it.

That was the difference between Petty and what came before him, HE WAS LITERALLY FROM A DIFFERENT GENERATION!

Sure, he graduated, was accepted by the rest of the Wilburys, but that’s like your high school brother taking along your junior high self. Special, but you see Tom was one of us. He’d seen the Beatles. He’d played in bands. He was bitten by the bug. He didn’t give up.

Most of us did. We all played guitar back then. It was like playing Pokemon Go, everybody did it. But most weren’t willing to put in the time, or when it got hard they gave up, went to college, played it safe.

Tom never played it safe.

And that’s what we loved about him. He never sold out. He was a lifer. He was in for good.

Not that we knew all that back when, it’s certainly evident in hindsight, but back in the midseventies he was just on a journey, one of credibility, faithfulness to the music, when the sound was going corporate and everybody was going for the bucks. And when they wanted him to, he refused. But that’s well-known history.

Anyway, it’s hard to describe sixties music if you weren’t there. The way it swept the nation, most famously the British Invasion. And the bands didn’t all sound the same, and you were addicted to your transistor, listening to the countdown as you did your homework, and EVERYBODY knew the hits, and you loved most of ’em, but then there were some that were special, like “Don’t Bring Me Down.”

This was pre-internet, pre-information age, we had no idea that it was a Goffin-King song. Carole’s another one who stupefied us. A legend even without “Tapestry,” how could one woman be responsible for so much greatness?

Now the Animals’ take begins with that eerie organ, straight out of the Midlands, this is not sunny America, this is a land of darkness that these musicians are praying to escape, based on the back of this tune.

And Eric starts to sing and it’s almost sotto voce, subtle, the antithesis of the “Voice,” if he was on they’d kick him off, but Eric knows it’s all about dynamics, presentation.

And the hook.

And that fuzz guitar. So familiar now, but brand new back then, we had to credit George Harrison. He was the progenitor, an innovator.

And then there’s that piano, in an era of electronic music it sounds so FRESH!

And the great thing about Petty was he believed, he paid fealty, he didn’t need to put his own spin on the song, he just needed to pay RESPECT!

Now you can listen to a take from 1985’s ” Pack Up The Plantation,” and that’s great, but this ’77 take is the antithesis of a victory lap, Petty still NEEDS it and he’s gonna PROVE IT!

That’s right, he came all the way from Gainesville, played in a million groups, won at the Battle of the Bands, and now he’s gonna strut his stuff, convince you solely with his music, back when that was enough.

When you complain and criticize
I feel I’m nothing in your eyes

Even the losers get lucky sometimes, but not frequently. Musicians were outcasts, they provided the entertainment at the club, they were not the ones making it rain, involved in the hijinks, they were the other, apart, hoping that their efforts could gain them entry to life’s riches, like women, like sex.

It makes me feel like giving up
Because my best ain’t just good enough

The FRUSTRATION! He’s trying his best, but he’s not succeeding. There’s no more he can do, he’s just gonna tell her the truth.

Girl, I want to provide for you
And do all the things that you want me to, but…

He wants to be her best man, give her all she wants, BUT!

Oh! Oh no, don’t bring me down
I’m beggin’ you darlin’
Oh! Oh no, don’t bring me down

He’s got a LIMIT! He can only take so MUCH! He’s not gonna be a DOORMAT!

That’s what the music did for us, inspire us, to not only be our best selves and stand up for what we believe, but to take no b.s.

And it was all in our heads. This was long before MTV. Production at shows was limited. You bought the vinyl and spun it alone in your room and transcended, you had to go to the show not to shoot selfies, not to say you were there, BUT TO PRAY AT THE CHURCH OF YOUR SOUL!

It’s hard to describe why music is magic. In this case maybe it’s Benmont’s organ, Tom’s sneer, but the concoction releases this sound, this feeling, that makes you feel alive, solidarity in the darkness, that this encapsulates your life.

And the “Plantation” take is just a bit less immediate, a bit more polished, I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s slick, but it doesn’t sound so much like a basement club, with no video cameras, where the experience will be one and only and then evaporate.

But trying to find a version close to this bootleg I stumbled on a take from 1985’s Farm Aid.

And of course the first thing that blew my mind was Petty was alive. Even though he’s dead. How can he be dead?

And the organ is not quite as immediate, although the guitar sneers, and then Petty stands up to the mic…

And you feel the relaxation, he’s comfortable, he’s been here before, he’s doing his job, he’s not punching the clock, he’s getting in the groove, he’s bouncing up and down, he’s DELIVERING!

That was the fine line Tom Petty walked, between being a journeyman and a superstar.

And then when he hits the second verse, he’s fully in the groove, he’s got that Burdon sotto voce thing going, he’s dancing around the melody, he’s using body language, and then…

You’ve got a whole band firing on all cylinders, all eight, and they’re so well-rehearsed Tom spins and they hit the change, it sounds like the record but it doesn’t, it’s different, it breathes, it’s alive.

But Tom’s not.

Tom Petty was not only a fan, he was a student. He loved the old songs, played them on his Sirius show. He needed our respect, couldn’t take our neglect, he demanded attention, he needed our love.

That’s the essence of a performer. They’re not whole. They need something from us to complete them. You can sense the neediness in their performance, it’s not bulletproof, it’s not hermetically sealed, it needs us to join in.

And we did this when we heard Tom on the radio, when we went to the show, we communed, we felt like we were in it together, fighting the good fight, despite all the b.s., despite everything going in the wrong direction.

And then he peeled-off, dropped out, and sure, legends have been dying like flies, but not this young, not this vibrant, not someone who refused to go on a victory lap.

That’s right, the scene changed but Tom didn’t. He continued to forge his own path. And you felt if you could just sit down and talk with him, be in his presence, you could learn the essence of life.

But now that opportunity has evaporated.

And we feel so empty.

Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers – “Studio A, Capitol Records Tower, Hollywood, CA, November 11, 1977” (start at 19:20)

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – “Don’t Bring Me Down” (Live at Farm Aid 1985)

Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers – “Don’t Bring Me Down” (“Pack Up The Plantation – Live At The Paradise Theater/1978”)