It’s about branding.

The F in FYF stood for a four letter word, the festival was anti, for those out of the mainstream, the overlooked who gather together to hear bands that speak to them, and possibly no one else. Whereas Janet Jackson is purely mainstream, she speaks primarily to people who don’t want to get into the asphalt and grime of L.A.’s Exposition Park, a site baking in the sun made for those who need to go.

Kinda like Bonnaroo. It was a jam band festival. And for a while there, it successfully stretched its limits, but then it went too far and cratered, it still may not be savable, how many people want to camp out in the heat of Tennessee in June?

Only a few festivals are bigger than the acts. In America, it’s Coachella in the desert and Lollapalooza in Chicago. The former succeeds because its the first major festival of the year, the site delivers its own satisfaction and no matter who they book as headliners, you can always go to the Sahara Tent and dance your ass off. As for Lollapalooza…you can stay in a hotel, walk to the site, it’s positively civilized in a nation that keeps going more upscale, that’s the conundrum, with income inequality rampant, people are still lining up to pay beaucoup bucks for shows.

Of course there are more than Coachella and Lollapalooza, the most obvious being JazzFest, but just like you’ve got the Sahara Tent at Coachella, at JazzFest you always get the local color, the church choirs, the New Orleans stars, the headliners are just the cherry on top.

But not at FYF Fest.

A festival must be a brand, it must stand for something, not just…we show up to overpay and be mistreated so we can say we were there. A festival is about the attendees, it’s about the culture, the lineup is not enough if you want to sustain.

But if there’s no culture, you’re lineup dependent.

Turns out few were at home saying they NEEDED to go to FYF Fest. The lineups had been expanded and mainstreamed so much that the core audience was abandoned. Turned out plenty of people wanted to see Frank Ocean and Missy Elliott, but these same people did not need to go to FYF itself.

There’s been a lot of talk about the FYF’s cancellation being a judgment on its female-centric lineup.

We already covered Ms. Jackson, does her audience really want to stand in the heat downtown to see her?

As for Florence + the Machine… She caters to intellectuals, thinkers, not the skate-punk people who put FYF on the map.

And St. Vincent has been everywhere and the Breeders reunion is a non-event, the kind of regrouping that plays to few on a side stage at Coachella, you can’t depend upon them to bring in attendees, they’re spice at best, and their fans are fifty, like the band, who’ve got no interest in going to FYF.

As for the undercard, acts like Lucy Dacus, who ever went to a festival for the undercard? Especially when you can see these acts up close and personal in a club.

So this is a misfire. Turns out Sean Carlson was the soul of FYF, and when he was removed, no one was tending the flame, no one was there from the beginning.

That’s the story of modern culture, we keep hearing about the power of corporations, but these corporations are run by people, and they make all the difference, can you say Steve Jobs, Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos?

So what we’ve learned is all the prognosticators were wrong. The business will survive the death of the classic rock acts. There are more stadium shows than there have been in decades, there is demand. But it’s not blind demand, people have favorites, and if you want to have a festival that sustains, play to people’s souls, who they are, who they want to hang out with. A festival is just not a show, a festival is an experience. And this experience is just not food and toilets, pleasantries. Rather it’s the vibe. Kinda like at Electric Forest, most people are not interested, but if you ARE!

New festivals must be nurtured, they must mean something, they must be curated. EDC is nothing without Pasquale Rotella. It’s lifers like him, progenitors of the scene who’ve got their fingers on the pulse, who are builders of these edifices. Just booking a bunch of acts and putting them in a park is not enough.

It was a badge of honor to see a band on its first tour.

I can regale you with stories of Elvis Costello at the Whisky, Oasis at the Roxy, back when you started small and grew, when music drove the culture and record companies signed you based on the music more than the commercial potential and slowly brought the audience to you. But today most of those clubs are dead. They were supported by the record companies, with comp tickets and tabs. Now you make it online and sometimes play arenas on your first tour. Furthermore, you’re a star today and gone tomorrow and the oldsters persist. It’s as if dinosaurs were still roaming the earth, along with human beings.

Jamie told us she could get us in. We’d been once before, for a birthday party. I was eager to go again, we said yes. Jake heard about our invitation and wanted to be included, so he and Robyn came too. To an abode with no signage for a meal with no price.

In other words, the experience was PRICELESS!

My parents were gourmets, they even had a club back in the sixties, where once a quarter they’d go to a friend’s house and have a potluck from a different country. My dad was all about lifestyle. We didn’t live in the best neighborhood, we didn’t upgrade when he made it, we stayed in the same split-level, but when it came to food and entertainment, there was no limit.

Except for wine. My dad owned a liquor store. It killed him to overpay for wine in a restaurant, so he didn’t. But if you wanted the lobster, you ordered it, but you had to finish. That’s right, I grew up in one of those houses where we heard about starving children in Europe, Asia was never mentioned, we had to scrape our plates clean, I still do, it’s a hard habit to break. As for throwing food out…I still can’t do it, not unless it’s smelly and nearly crawling with bugs. Especially with inflation, you can see five or ten bucks evaporating, I must eat it.

And when we traveled my dad always looked for the best restaurants.

And when I was in law school my girlfriend and I combed them all, the ones we couldn’t afford we had my parents take us to. But that was a long time ago, before there were so many restaurants you could not eat at them all, before you couldn’t get in unless you were connected.

That’s the world we live in, you’ve got to know somebody. I was just watching “The Florida Project” and the motel resident has a connection for waffles at the breakfast place. If you know nobody, you cannot get ahead. We live in a nation of currency, and not all of it is cash.

That’s one of the modern paradigms that overwhelms me, the plethora of choices. I like to be comprehensive, I like to know everything about a given field. But today that’s impossible, I want to know everything about a subject so I can judge it expertly, but today very few are experts. Or they’re experts in one field only.

So Wolvesmouth is a pop-up restaurant. I read about it in the “New Yorker” years before I went. It changed locations. You had to be in the know to go. And I didn’t. Until two summers ago.

And here’s where I’d like to tell you about the menus, tell the history of the place, but I don’t think I can do it adequately. I’ve heard it in detail twice, but I haven’t digested it. I like to ask multiple people the same questions over and over again to gain a feeling, to reach a conclusion. But what I’ve learned is there are different menus at Wolvesmouth, with a different number of courses.

Last night we had eight.

So, there are twenty people you don’t know, other than the group you came with. And to tell you the truth, Felice and I were the oldest people there, by decades. You see it’s a millennial thing, a young Gen-X’er thing. Where it’s about experiences more than acquisitions. Where you’ll blow high dough on an evanescent item that you’ll remember, but cannot grasp.

And there was the gay couple from the eastside. And the young marrieds from the South Bay. And everyone brought their own beverages, which were ultimately shared, and in between courses, you conversed.

You can feel lonely and isolated in today’s world. Think you know everything. And then you go somewhere and bump into new people and get excited. They’re different, yet similar. It’s stimulating. They’ve had the same experiences with a twist. The woman across the table spontaneously said she and her husband were in couples therapy. Is it that you’re freer with strangers, I don’t know, but I dig it.

So the first course was…

Oh, I’m not gonna delineate it, I’ll post a pic of the menu to Twitter for you to check out. It’s just that it had a short rib encased in a blood red sauce and potato-filled pasta which were akin to ravioli, and cabbage-beet horseradish and it was all topped with an onion ring.

And we dug in.

There’s no bread and there’s no waiting.

Usually, I fill up on the appetizers, but with food portioned out, this does not happen. Furthermore, they start right away, dinner was set for 6:30, we arrived fifteen minutes early, shortly after the appointed hour the first course arrived.

And I learned that Greg decided to get into the music business when he saw U2 at Dodger Stadium. The guy next to him was elbowing him but then when “One” was played he put his arm around Greg’s shoulder.

Jake’s dad loved the ponies, they followed him from Toronto to the track in Florida, where Jake went to two different schools in one year.

Jamie and Greg went on a cruise with her father and stepmother. She likes to soak up all the culture, Greg needs time off to rest, just like me and Felice!

And over food and wine you learn stuff about people you never knew, you become closer, I suggested we all go on a cruise together, but I doubt that will happen, enchanted moments engender promises that go unfulfilled.

I didn’t shoot any pictures, of food anyway. I don’t post on Facebook.

Furthermore, I’m not a forensic eater. I just enjoyed the taste, I’m not even sure I can remember what I ate, but I loved the mini-churro.

So I don’t want to boast, I don’t want to make you feel envious. That’s the scourge of modern society, the social network posts depicting a fabulous life that is oftentimes untrue.

But for a couple of hours last night it wasn’t.

So if you want to go you’ve got to network, find out how to get on the list. Damned if I know.

And you pay what you want, but if it’s not significant…then you’re just a schnorrer.

And I’d say the food was great.

But the people were even better.

P.S. Wolvesmouth has been going on for years, but only in this location for less. I suggest you start watching the linked video at 8:17 to get an idea:

Cooking with Violence and Beauty

P.P.S. The proprietor, the chef, Craig Thornton, comes from nothing. Seems all of the artistic breakthroughs come from the financially-challenged. They’ve got few preconceptions and are not worried about failing, they’re already at the bottom.

P.P.P.S. Craig wanders the room, you can talk to him, he’s not kvelling, he’s more internalized, but he’s approachable. In the modern world that’s what it’s all about, being accessible.

P.P.P.P.S. Success is not necessarily reaching everybody and getting rich. You get to define your own success. And there’s a reaction to the billionairedom of America, people who are establishing careers on their own terms, isn’t it funny that they are the ones we are drawn to most.

Last night’s menu:

Wolvesmouth menu-Saturday 5/5/18 pic.twitter.com/aFU8sRI4Et

— Bob Lefsetz (@Lefsetz) May 6, 2018

It’s about breaking the formula.

Art is about risk, and in today’s era too few are approaching the edge, that’s the Michelle Wolf story, the inability of the status quo to recognize the soul of our society, which is not conformity, but uniqueness. The more you try to fit in, the blanker you become, the more irrelevant. Which is why art rules the world, artists test limits, even Steve Jobs, first and foremost he was an artist, never forget the original iMac was just the same old chip in a brand new box.

Obama on Letterman was a flop. Too much media training. Too guarded. That’s what was wrong with his Presidency, the reticence, the thinking before talking, the fear of scratching the surface, when the truth is underneath the waters were roiling, and when he was gone Trumpism surfaced, not surprising to those truly taking the pulse of America. As for Hillary, she allowed the right to define her and she didn’t ring true. You cannot lose your identity, you must stand up to critics, you must define the game, you must keep playing.

Or you lose.

As Hillary has.

It’s no surprise the only triumphs in late night TV have been by Kimmel and Colbert, speaking their truth, calling out Trump. Fallon has refused and his ratings have sunk, he’s being beaten by nearly a million viewers. Fallon’s doing the same old show in changed times.

And the rest of his late night compatriots are not that different. Suits and ties, monologues, skits, guests promoting projects. It’s so tired, I don’t watch, and most others don’t either. Same deal with SNL. A sketch show without a viewpoint, WHOOP-DE-DOO! That was what was so great about the original five years/cast, it was TV made for a generation, pushing edges the oldsters could not see. Now only oldsters think it’s funny, when they read about skits in the newspaper.

The truth is SNL should be YouTube only. A skit every day.

It needs to take a side.

It needs to be different.

Kinda like the writers’ room.

That was what Tina Fey said, you get women involved and the whole picture changes, people of color too. They find stuff funny that white males do not. But women make up half of society, actually, a little bit more.

The media does not know what to do with Netflix. It’s virtually ignoring the service, except on the business page. The media still pays fealty to movies, even though attendance is down, even though only a few are financially successful. It’s like covering curling. Great during the Olympics, interesting during awards season, other than that, no one cares.

They’ll review a movie the day of release.

But not a Netflix show.

You won’t see the media promoting Tina Fey on Letterman, for that you need a Netflix subscription, where it comes right up. Netflix is like free form radio of the sixties, the in-the-know know, and everybody else does not. Netflix is where all the action takes place, the experimentation, where there are albums instead of singles, where there’s a plethora of product we just cannot get enough of.

People e-mail me every day about cable shows. I’m not watching. We live in an on demand society. If I can’t have it all, right now… Isn’t this what Queen sang about so emphatically DECADES ago? Apple kills not only ports, but the CD drive and the iPod, yet studios are still propping up the movie theatre, WHY? And if you e-mail me and complain, you’re part of the problem. Once upon a time, in the late nineties, Apple was a joke, but when the company broke the rules it became the most valuable in the world, think about that.

So Letterman won’t shave his beard. And he’s not a puppet for writers. It’s all about his off the cuffs witticisms. Reminds me of high school, where puns ruled, where being quick and funny was everything. I don’t want to be a late night host, but I do want to be David Letterman. Did you see him at Oxford, with Malala Yousafzai? He was so inappropriate and obnoxious you could only love him, decorum is to be challenged, limits are to be tested, you don’t know where the line is unless you’re willing to cross it.

And I’ve got no interest in George Clooney, but damn if his episode wasn’t so good, especially the segments with his parents, and the Middle Eastern dude they were supporting in their town.

As for Tina Fey, she was sharp and quick and didn’t need to overact in a prepared way, just roll with the punches. Furthermore, she said she never smoked dope, that she was uncool. This isn’t today’s millennials all claiming to be nerds, this is a TRUE NERD!

And the nerds have inherited the earth. Because they refused to compromise, they endured the hate and continued to march forward.

And Letterman humanized Buddy Guy more than any awards show, he let Buddy talk, be himself.

Meanwhile, musicians are worried about everything but the music, sponsorship, cash… Hell, Tina Fey joked that she’d already spent all of the “Mean Girls” cash. Proving, even though it was a joke, that she ain’t a billionaire.

But she’s got more influence than one.

Usually, innovation comes from outside, because the established players are too afraid to take a risk. Kinda like today’s Apple. If you’re not confused whether you’re in your library or the streaming Apple Music service, you must work in Cupertino.

I’m looking for fulfillment, I’m looking to have my horizons expanded, I’m looking to be touched and titillated, taken places I cannot foresee.

And that’s what Letterman’s doing here. It’s just not endless hijinks, there’s substance along with the glaze.

All you’ve got to do is pick up the remote and click.

On your smart TV, via your Roku or Fire Stick or other streaming device. Hell, you can download episodes to your iPad for traveling. And multiple people can use the same log-in. Netflix isn’t limiting you, scolding you, telling you how to live, but allowing you to do it your way.

We want it all right now at our fingertips. Realize this quickly, or die, like the movie studios.

Meanwhile, a septuagenarian who doesn’t need the money puts his reputation and legacy at risk to try something new. Let that be a lesson to you. That’s why I’m reluctant to see the oldsters play their hits. And the youngsters execute formula. Music triumphed when it was about wowing us.

Letterman on Netflix has got me thinking.

And that’s exactly what I came for.

He’s playing by the Trump rulebook, in an attention economy, he who says the most outrageous things wins.

That’s right, the media covers your every move and everybody knows what you do and despite so many despising you, others are drawn to you, and you don’t need many acolytes to win in this country of 300+ million, never mind the rest of the world.

So he’ll get us to listen to his music. We want to know what’s going on, we want to watch the train-wreck, and Kanye’s laughing all the way to the bank.

But what bugs me most is the opioid addiction as a result of liposuction, proving that Kanye didn’t change the Kardashians, but vice versa, he was sucked into their vision, which is as false as they come. When image is everything, you’ve lost the plot, aging is inevitable, and the only major figure who has figured this out is Bob Dylan, who continues to tour with his ragged voice, reinterpreting his material, confounding us with his choices, whether they be covers or whiskeys.

Then again, it’s all about money, Dylan likes it and Kanye can’t stop complaining he doesn’t have enough, while he alienates his allies and proclaims he’s the world’s greatest, didn’t Muhammad Ali already do that act?

And to tell you the truth, I believe some of this nonsense is calculated, but a lot of it is evidence of mental illness. Meanwhile, his mother dies as a result of plastic surgery and he gets it? Isn’t that like a heroin addict believing if dope killed someone else it can’t kill him? Both are unnecessary, if unequal, what kind of lesson are we teaching our youth?

Then again, Kanye is a black icon for both getting this much attention and living the life of a rich person, buying land, increasing his empire, that appeals to the oppressed. But I do believe there are better messages to send.

Not that Kanye is truly concerned with those. Not that I can truly understand the African-American experience. But I can see that Kanye is playing everybody from TMZ to the “New York Times.” They’re taking what he’s saying seriously, they’re repeating it, in a world where most people cannot name the number one song, never mind sing it, Kanye is the biggest star of the week, maybe even the month!

Maybe a sad reflection on today’s music business, but there’s truth here, the biz thinks so SMALL! Believing its own data. That if a track is number one it makes a difference and everybody cares. ALMOST NO ONE CARES! HOW DO YOU RISE ABOVE?

Kanye figured it out.

P.S. As for firing his handlers, Scooter and Paterno, this is a bad move all around. Nobody’s an expert in everything, everybody needs help, everybody needs a team, I don’t know what coach Kris J. and her daughters are telling Yeezus, but the more he rants, the more he appears to need help. Then again, this is a world where we love to see our heroes spiral into the abyss, from Elvis to Avicii. We like the movie too much to stop them. We don’t want to help. Or maybe Kanye’s the victim of the Trump administration he is lauding, it’s everybody for themselves baby, compassion is history, if you want to flame out, that’s fine. Or is it?