Rumble-The Indians Who Rocked The World

There’s a moment in this movie…

They’ve gone on about Jesse Ed Davis. Showed him playing with Taj Mahal, being flown over to England to participate in the “Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus.” Hooking up with John Lennon. And I know who Jesse Ed is, or was, but these kinds of credits don’t mean much until…

Jackson Browne shows up and says he called Jesse Ed to play on his initial solo LP.

And Jesse Ed says he really doesn’t hear himself playing on that track.

So, Jackson has the engineer cue up another and Jesse Ed says this one will work.

So Jesse Ed goes into the studio, the track is playing, but he’s not paying attention, he’s tuning his guitar, and then when it gets to the space for his solo he rips something off in one take and then is done. Just like that. But what makes this story so great is that was the solo in DOCTOR MY EYES!

I can’t say there’s a plethora of those hair-raising moments in this movie, but there aren’t many solos like the one in “Doctor My Eyes.” Or as Randy Castillo says, you can practice in your bedroom all you want, but you won’t get great until you play with others, he sat behind the kit for Ozzy.

Yup, you learn about all the famous Indians, they seem okay with that word, we whites know them as Native Americans. And of course they have a chip on their shoulder, that’s why they made this movie. The head-scratcher is now it’s the whites who have a chip on their shoulder, believe they’re oppressed. Hell, look at rock and roll, scratch an older white male and you’ll find out he hates rap. Someone took his rock away. But where did the rock come from?

This film posits it came from Indians.

Is that true?

Hell if I know. That’s why you watch a flick like this, to be edified.

And they end up focusing on this one early bluesman Charley Patton. I’ve only heard his name, I’m more familiar with Robert Johnson, but Patton was an Indian and played that sound that influenced all those English musicians, you know, the ones that put rock and roll over the top. And Charley Patton taught Howlin’ Wolf how to play the guitar and when the Stones came to America they insisted on putting him on a TV show with them. You get it when you see the footage. That’s the power of the sound.

You get it listening to Charley Patton too.

Quincy Jones talks about going to juke joints. This was before the internet, if you wanted to get loaded and eat and dance and…this is where you went.

And one of the greatest revelations is the footage of Mississippi, a place most people have heard of and almost no one has been to. I’ve been there barely, when I went to Memphis. It’s different.

You see the countryside and you can envision how this music was engendered.

And there have been a lot of Indians in rock and roll. Famously Robbie Robertson, and Redbone, and many argue that Link Wray started it all, with “Rumble.”

But what this movie does best is provide context.

That’s what we’re missing today. A roadmap. That will tell us where to start, where to go and illustrate the attractions along the way. That was blown apart by the internet.

We were moving along swimmingly, with AM and FM, and then MTV came along to create a monoculture, the Telecommunications Act of 1996 allowed radio consolidation and then the internet blew it all apart. I guess you just can’t hold the public back that much.

But you watch this flick and you think about music. When you used to play and sing and…

This is what the younger generation doesn’t understand. We oldsters lived through something. The only equivalent thing in my life is the internet. There was essentially nothing and then something came along to dominate, we all got onboard and rode the wave. The Beatles hit and it changed life. Not only were we addicted to the radio, we bought instruments, we went to shows, and you had to leave your house to do it.

Now you can stay home and connect and most people don’t play and you go to the gig to text and shoot selfies.

Not that there is not a music scene today, but music does not drive the culture.

Nor does the internet.

We’re in a strange malaise.

But when you watch a film like “Rumble” you realize there’s a way out, and it’s got to do with story. People have to keep telling their stories, and connecting the dots. Knowing when they’re right and wrong. And in it not for the money but for the experience. We’ve gone topsy-turvy. But when you see “Rumble,” you know they got it right.

Just say if it’s too late for me.

And for those not in the know, that’s the cue for Jesse Ed to wail, a little beyond the minute and a half mark in “Doctor My Eyes.”

Most of you know it by heart.

Should I stay or should I go?

That’s what went through my head after I gained consciousness.

Felice was shaking me, I’d been up so late, I’d ultimately taken a Zyrtec tablet for the itching. Why was she waking me up so early?

Betsy called. She gets up early. There was a fire.

That makes sense, Betsy lives in the North Valley near the hills.

But as I listened to Felice I heard there was a fire near us.

But on the other side of Mulholland.

Yet our next door neighbor was hosing his roof off.

And a policeman had knocked on the door and said evacuation was now optional but if it became mandatory he would probably not be able to come back.

Huh.

My mother thinks she’s inviolate. Nothing bad will happen. Maybe that’s why I’m on the outlook for pitfalls 24/7. When asked about the Cuban Missile Crisis she said not to worry, if they dropped bombs we’d all die.

So my inclination was to stay.

I know, I know, stupid.

It was just too much effort to get out of bed with my sores, and I wanted more sleep.

But then I thought about it being too late to go, and I got up.

What do you take?

Most of my valuables are at my house in Santa Monica, then again, do I have any valuables? Get old enough and you don’t, all possessions become meaningless. What’s even weirder is you can no longer remember certain things. Which is maybe why people leave with their photo albums. But I don’t have any of those, my father was so busy taking pictures of our youth that I haven’t. Even in this modern camera phone world I’m not a big snapper.

Well, I should take my pills. You never know how long you’ll be gone.

And my computer. Sure, I’ve got a desktop at home, but why put all that money at risk.

And a few clothes.

But what route should I take?

The map apps were confusing. Google said to go down Roscomare, but wasn’t that where the fire was?

Apple said to take a convoluted route to the 405, but wasn’t that partially closed?

By time I put everything in the car I decided to check again. Both map apps said the south 405 was open. I made my getaway.

Then again, was I being stupid? I was driving towards the fire. But if I wanted to go further east delays were greater, better to jet down or risk getting caught in the hills if the fire spread?

And traffic was light for this hour, but when I got to Mulholland it was inundated with cops. And firetrucks. The barbecue foodtruck that’s there every day was not.

Cops were directing traffic. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to go the way I wanted.

That’s what people don’t understand, Los Angeles.

It’s a giant suburb with a row of mountains separating it. The wealthier you are the more you gravitate to these mountains, where roads are narrow yet views can be spectacular. It’s a self-defining separation between rich and poor. If you’re financially-challenged in Los Angeles, you’re likely not at risk from natural disasters. Oh, that’s not fully true, but the fires start in the mountains, and once you get east of the 405, there’s little spare space.

And how can this happen in a city anyway? You can imagine an apartment fire in New York, but not a whole block going up in flames, multiple blocks, what’s gonna burn?

So I finally get on the 405, which is slowed down by firetrucks. And the northbound lanes are completely closed, which is weird, because they’re oftentimes gridlocked.

And then I see it. The hillside’s smoldering. Looks like they’ve got it under control.

But no, when I get down the hill, near the 76 station in Bel Air, I see flames. That house on the ridge… It seems to be on fire, or close to it.

So it can happen.

But then I’m in Santa Monica and it’s like it didn’t happen at all.

P.S. You used to rely on radio, TV and the newspaper. But in the age of the internet their faults have been illustrated, they’re just not up-to-date. AM news has gone by the wayside, replaced by sports and Latin programming in Los Angeles. And TV can only do a broad overview with pictures. I saw a reporter by the Skirball, what the hell does he know? As for the vaunted L.A. “Times,” the fire is not at the top of the app and it’s cut so many reporters that it is hobbled. Either you double-down and go for it in the internet era or you’re toast. Which leaves you with Twitter. I’d be checking it, but right now I’m out of danger. As for the house..?

Nathan Hubbard.

Ticketing is the black hole of the music industry. There’s little transparency and little understanding of how it works. Nathan ran Ticketmaster, the company you love to hate, and has deep insight into the ticketing sphere.

Which we get into after I get his history.

I’m always interested where people come from, it explains who they are today.

Nathan is the victim of a broken home who started playing music with his buddy while still in the single digits and continued while he went to Princeton and his buddy went to Haverford under the name of Rockwell Church.

In that incarnation, they were managed by the then fledgling Red Light.

Upon Rockwell’s desire to go to graduate school, Hubbard ultimately did so too, at Stanford, and then ended up back at Red Light running Musictoday. You can take the boy out of the music industry but you can’t take the music industry out of the boy.

Live Nation bought Musictoday and Nathan went with it and ultimately ended up as the head of Ticketmaster.

Then he moved on to Twitter.

Now he’s in stealth mode, when he’s not fulfilling his role as an intern at “The Ringer”:

Nathan Hubbard - The Ringer

Now this is a long one, but we cover a lot of ground, I believe you’ll find it interesting. Nathan’s part of the young guard taking over this business, he’s only 42, and the baby boomers aren’t gonna rule forever, despite what they think.

Also Nathan is smart.

And smart wins, especially in this education-free, hustle business known as music.

Not that all intelligence is evidenced in book-learning and degrees, that’s just a way of saying you’ll enjoy listening to Nathan speak, you’ll gain insight and be primed for further conversation.

TuneIn

iTunes

Google Play

Stitcher

Guest Host Chris Pratt & Chris Stapleton Sing “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life”

Never felt this way before.

I swear, I actually have, this is the smile on the face enjoyment music engenders when it’s only itself, when it’s absent the trends of commercialism, when you’re singing and listening just because IT FEELS SO GOOD! When Chris Stapleton opens his pipes your jaw will drop, you’ll be transported from everyday life, you’ll believe in magic once again.

“Dirty Dancing.” A small movie that became a phenomenon. We didn’t go to see it. But in the old days of video stores, you’d peruse the titles, and they got to the point where they had more stock of the hitters and we picked it up and my ex watched it three times in twenty four hours. Sometimes when you shoot low and hit it it’s far superior to when you shoot high and barely miss. It was just supposed to be a stupid movie about summer romance, but somehow it ended up so much more.

Credit Jennifer Grey. And Patrick Swayze. You actually believe they were both those people. Grey was a cloistered girl who wanted to break out, who wanted to leave the family behind and be her best self. And this is what summer camp and summer vacation trips are all about, separating from your parents, flexing your muscles, spreading your wings. And we all want to be a member of the cool group.

As for Swayze, he came from the wrong side of the tracks, he was working for a living as opposed to vacating like Baby. It was a job. But ultimately something more. You see we all need something to believe in, and in Swayze’s group it was dirty dancing. Does dirty dancing really exist? WHO CARES! It’s a movie, you suspend disbelief, when done right you go along and believe.

And the film became so big that it tugged the soundtrack along. There were some oldies and some newbies, like Eric Carmen’s “Hungry Eyes,” an unexpected comeback that I cannot burn out on to this day. But the piece-de-resistance was the duet, by Bill Medley and Jennifer Warnes, on “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life.”

Now Medley was a relic of the sixties, he hit his peak with Phil Spector and hadn’t come close to that since. As for Warnes, she’d had success with 1976’s “Right Time Of The Night,” but her most well-known cut was also a duet, with Joe Cocker, on “Up Where We Belong,” from the 1982 smash hit “An Officer And A Gentleman,” which swung harder with a bigger budget but ultimately hit the same note as “Dirty Dancing.”

And now Medley and Warnes were united on a cheesy closing number that…

Brought tears to your eyes. I’m tingling writing about it right now. It’s something everybody who was alive back then knows by heart, even younger generations who’ve caught up on the film on video.

So, with Chris Pratt hosting the Kimmel show…

Which is kinda funny, Jimmy’s not afraid of losing ground, he doesn’t have to hog the spotlight, he’s talking a clue from Johnny Carson way back when, adding some spice to the show while he takes a breather.

And the truth is late night is all about virality, creating a clip, but that’s all Fallon does, when he fawns, and Colbert is more about the jokes, but Kimmel’s more about the moments.

So watch this video. I know, I know, the intro is long, but it’s all just buildup until…

Chris Stapleton starts to sing.

It’s a lark, not serious, hijinks for late night. And then…

‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life
AND I OWE IT ALL TO YOU!

You can’t believe it. We’re no longer used to excellence, we’re no longer used to melody. The big beat rules and people oversing on competition shows but they lack soul, it doesn’t come from within them, they’re there to impress, but Chris Stapleton is channeling the gods.

We saw the writing on the wall
As we felt this magical fantasy

Chris doesn’t seem in on the joke. At this point he can’t make fun of the song, can’t throw off a vocal, it’s like he’s on stage at the Ryman and every word comes straight from the heart, like it’s life or death.

Now with passion in our eyes
There’s no way we could disguise it secretly
So we take each other’s hand
‘Cause we seem to understand the urgency

That’s love. Like you have for Stapleton’s performance. It’s got that passion, that urgency of the greats.

He’s the one thing I can’t get enough of and then comes the magic moment, the one that seals the deal, when Stapleton leans back, swings his arm and belts:

NEVER FELT THIS WAY!

Eeegads, this is the real thing.

He’s reading off the Teleprompter. He’s not doing one of his own songs. The hipsters decry the mainstream song he’s singing, yet somehow he makes it his own. Substitute a woman with pipes for Chris Pratt and you have a hit record, one that makes all listeners feel good, that they cannot get enough of.

And the credible rockers of yore wouldn’t do this, they disdained TV.

But just like them, Stapleton arrives in his regular outfit, he’s not dressing up just for the gig.

But Stapleton gets the joke. And he knows the song. And it’s a great melding of what once and in this case, still is.

Sure, at the end you realize this was rehearsed, since Stapleton flies.

Or maybe it was all done in post. Hell, Chris didn’t seem that prepared, he didn’t know the words, he was just caught up in the moment.

And you will be too.