I’m way too good at goodbyes

They knew every word.

And so did I.

Music has become balkanized. There are rappers on Spotify and classic rockers at the shed and there’s no coherence.

But maybe it’s coming.

It started with Adele. Who sang singable songs about life and became the biggest act in the world. She didn’t participate on social media, she didn’t do sponsorship, she let the music do the talking, and it was enough.

Sam Smith is cut from the same cloth.

Why are all the best acts English?

So this appearance was part of his album launch.

Upstairs you had the connected. On the wall you had celebrities, like James Corden.

And in the pit you had fans.

I had a great conversation with Corden. He was animated and alive and not reticent whatsoever. He told me how he listens to Van Morrison and…

Then the lights went down.

I was seated in the bleachers, dead center, with the privileged.

But the truly privileged were on the floor. Who’d won the lottery and were inside. Like the three gents with handmade t-shirts right down front, who Sam leaned down and kissed at the end of the show.

And the paradigm has completely changed. This ain’t your father’s classic rock. Where you sat stoned, or stood and swayed to overpowering music. Today’s fans know the words and they sing every one of them.

Because the music is accessible.

Never underestimate this. Used to be you’d go to the show and people would only know the hits, but with Spotify and YouTube acolytes are familiar with all the material. If you like the hit, you go deep.

And what you noticed first, which was ASTOUNDING, was that Sam Smith could SING! Effortlessly! He hit every note!

Now you’ve got to know, baby boomers are familiar with acts that were brilliant on record but rough in concert.

And the youngsters are used to hard drives, they expect perfection.

And the machines get it right, but they don’t live and breathe, they’re soulless.

But Sam was accompanied by a piano player. And a bassist and guitarist and string player and three backup singers. There was no fakery whatsoever. And when he opened his pipes…

WOW!

Maybe we’re used to this from singing TV shows.

But those people can’t write. And subtlety is out the window. Whereas at the Troubadour tonight an angel graced the stage, it was remarkable, this guy could nonchalantly throw off perfection, you were watching and couldn’t believe it.

And he started with a few old numbers and that’s when I noticed…

Everybody downstairs knew every word.

And these people looked like today. These were not hipsters, some were nerds, you see the cool people you see in tabloids and on Instagram aren’t real, everybody else is normal. They’ve got their heroes and are warm and connecting, no one was jockeying for position, everybody, almost equally men and women, just had their head in the air singing to the heavens.

And Sam Smith couldn’t stop smiling.

Sure, this was an album promotion. Last time around this guy played arenas. But the energy was palpable, the audience was the battery for Sam Smith’s performance. They jolted him to deliver.

And boy, did he.

The new songs were even more rewarding than the old.

And you realized you were attending something special, the way it used to be, when music was not about bucks, but sound. Today everybody’s so busy counting the cash that they forget it’s all about electricity, and Sam Smith was turned on tonight.

And so were we.

I couldn’t help but marvel at the assembled multitude. They were having a religious experience, as was I. There was no projection, no dancing, no fakery, just honest to goodness music, the way it used to be.

And can be again.

And after playing his old hit, “Stay With Me,” it was time…

You must think that I’m stupid

Now “Too Good At Goodbyes” only went live Thursday night. In the old days you’d have to sit by the radio just to hear it. But these days…

I played it for an hour straight that night. And even more over the weekend. I like to luxuriate in one great song, when I find one.

And usually when acts play new music people go to the bathroom.

But with these tunes, you could get them the first time through, they evidence humanity.

And since you could listen as much as you wanted online…

You must think that I’m a fool

The song’s only been in the marketplace for days, but everybody knew every word. You could see Sam cracking up, he didn’t believe it, it lifted his performance to another level, that’s the power of the crowd, when amped they levitate not only themselves, but the performer.

You must think that I’m new to this

Not that new. Not like last time through. Sam was comfortable in his own skin. He wasn’t nervous, he could relax and let it all out, and when the mellifluous sound emanated from the stage…

I’m never gonna let you close to me

That’s wrong, we were right there tonight.

And when Sam left the stage we felt the glow.

Because we’d experienced genius. We’d seen the power of art. We’d seen a pathway into the future. One in which talent matters and melody returns, with words that speak to our inner tuning forks, which too often feel lonely in this abrasive world.

Sam Smith was way too good.

He was undeniable.

It was hard to say goodbye.

This is a bad book.

Stars write tomes that leave the dirt out.

Outsiders write short briefs of sour grapes with the details included.

Unlike the former, Chris Lendt can actually write, but he goes on interminably with details we don’t care about and doesn’t reveal those we do.

This is an old book. Published in 1997. But a reader recommended it, after reading my words about Noel Monk’s Van Halen book.

Needless to say, “Kiss and Tell” is out of print. So I ordered a used copy on Amazon. And two weeks later I got a Spanish language book. But after getting a refund I reordered the right book from a different reseller and it arrived.

I wish I’d never bought it.

Ever since I got a Kindle I finish books. I read the sample chapter, decide whether to buy or not, and if I do, I slog through to the end. Don’t ask me why, it’s my personal achievement in a world where nothing seems to matter. No one can read everything and the older you get the more you wonder where you fit in, what’s your status, do you count, and it’s these little accomplishments that keep you going.

And since I’d gone through all the trouble of actually getting the book, I dove in. But after reading the umpteenth description of what some peripheral character wore to a meeting, I wanted to throw the book against the wall.

So the bottom line is Kiss is not as rich as you think they are, at least not at the time this book was written.

That’s right, Gene Simmons lies all the time. And in the era the band was big, the seventies, there was no internet, no way to correct him.

And after believing their own hype, they were close to broke and had to go on the road to pay their bills.

Now they’re an oldies act playing to nostalgic fans and young ‘uns who want to see what it was all about.

And there you have the paradigm of all the classic acts that still survive.

And they’re dying on a regular basis.

But Paul and Gene were not abusers, barring the Big C, or some other malady, they’ll be able to tour a long while.

So for those who weren’t around the first time, Kiss was an abhorred band that got no respect that ultimately landed a hit, a live take of “Rock and Roll All Nite,” and established a place in the mainstream.

Then Bob Ezrin helped them create their apotheosis, “Destroyer,” and they got an initial victory lap before it all fell apart.

It ends. You think it goes on forever, but you can only be the new thing once. And the audience wants new things. The business people remain, now more than ever, but you’ve got the fame, which you can trade on.

Chris Lendt, the accountant who wrote this book, is an adjunct professor at NYU and a consultant, whatever that means. But Gene and Paul…are still Gene and Paul.

So if you’re looking for bucks, stay on the business side.

If you need the adulation, become a star.

Now the fascinating thing about Kiss is it was not built by the usual suspects. Bill Aucoin was a TV director and Glickman and Marks, the businessmen, were a Wall Streeter and advertising guru respectively. Where else can you go from zero to hero but the music business? Based on pure pluck, intuition.

And the label was run by Neil Bogart, who thought money grew on trees. A hypester from the bubblegum side of the business, Bogart was enthralled by the trappings, until it all caved in, he liked the fame more than the business, and as we’ve established above, you’ve got to choose one or the other.

And by the late seventies, Kiss was drinking their own kool-aid. And even though their over-the-top live show was losing money, they refused to cut back, they needed to be the biggest and the baddest.

But it imploded the band.

Well, first came a lame TV movie.

And then the decision to play to kids. The costumes were now glitzy instead of street, the danger was eviscerated, and the hard core didn’t want to come anymore.

Meanwhile, they couldn’t compete with the likes of Bon Jovi, who used to open for them!

And once you’re past your peak, good luck climbing the mountaintop once again, it’s almost impossible.

So what we learn is Peter and Ace were unreliable, but audience members were attached to them. Beware of kicking out band members, the folks at home don’t know they’re a pain in the ass and can’t play.

Give the people what they want. If you’re selling experimentation, it’s fine to change direction. But if you’re selling meat and potatoes, deliver that. Kiss’s stab at art, “The Elder,” was a failure, it flummoxed its audience.

It’s not gonna go on forever, so watch your pennies.

But no one ever does. They’ve been starving forever. They can’t resist spending. Then they believe their own hype. And most end up back on the street, broke and busted. If you were a good businessman, you wouldn’t be a player, and vice versa.

Beware of living up to your image. Turns out most people don’t’ care, especially today.

And that’s the big takeaway from this book, how different the business is.

You don’t get stiffed, because you play for Live Nation or AEG.

You can play around the world, no problem. When Kiss ultimately goes to Brazil in the eighties, they get the cash up front, but due to a quirk in the law, their equipment is held up and they’ve got to ransom it back for six figures.

You see music is now a mature business. The risks have been squeezed out. Other than the basic risk of supply and demand.

Once upon a time anybody could be a manager and anybody could be a promoter.

Hell, before that anybody could start a label.

But the labels all sold out to majors and today’s top managers are so experienced and we’ve already covered the promoter paradigm.

So what we’ve got is people playing by the rules, and that’s no fun.

But streaming has upset the apple cart, the whole damn internet, and I’m not talking about monetization, that’s old thinking, I’m talking about utilizing the new tools. You can make and distribute for bupkes. You can take chances. And the funny thing is those who do are the biggest winners. Drake doesn’t worry about overloading the audience. Nor does Bieber. As for Chance the Rapper, he doesn’t even have a record deal!
And that’s right, streaming is dominated by hip-hop, because they’re the outsiders, they went where there was opportunity, and the old farts can’t fathom this, they want to go back to the way it once was.

But it never will.

You can’t hype like Kiss, people find out the truth.

And although aged bands can tour to beaucoup bucks, it’s hard for developing acts to do this, you need to make inroads with your records.

And radio means less than ever before, did you read Neil Portnow’s screed? Every day I get pro-radio e-mail, it’s like these lifers are living in an alternative universe.

Kiss found a formula. And drove it into the ground. They wouldn’t take no for an answer. They wanted to be rock stars.

And they succeeded, but the truth is when it was all done all they were left with was their fame. So, if you want cash, go work at the bank, get a degree and climb the corporate ladder.

But people believed in Kiss, they paid attention.

And that’s hard to get, eyeballs.

And they were heroes to zeroes, but even I’ll admit some of those songs were good, in retrospect.

But it was still a crappy band.

But Gene needed to be famous.

He achieved his goal.

Paul too.

Ask yourself what you want in this world.

And if you do it in a different way, in an undermined niche…

You too can succeed.

“KIss and Sell: The Making of a Supergroup”

“Portnow: Artists No Longer Thank Radio”

P.S. If you’re interested in the story of Neil Bogart and Casablanca Records, I recommend the far superior book by Larry Harris:

And Party Every Day: The Inside Story of Casablanca Records

Re: Sgt. Pepper

Dear Bob,

Thomas told me you were thinking of coming down to the Sgt Pepper playback next week. I’m delighted. I read your post and love your passion.

I hope you realise the remix project came from Apple Corps, not Universal. I was initially against the idea, let’s face it, no one has ever mentioned that Sgt Pepper sounded bad. The difference with the way the Beatles work is that we’re very much behind closed doors. I book the time at Abbey Road, often under a different band name. It’s just myself and Sam Okell (engineer). We use a combination of old and new to mix and it’s only when we feel like we are doing something good that we play it for Paul and Ringo. It’s their call, it’s their music after all.

With the remix we realised that we were on to something good. Something that was missed in the original stereo, as Paul and Ringo told us and my dad had mentioned in the past, something that the mono had that had been taken away by the quick stereo mix that everyone knows.

But in essence this new mix isn’t for y4ou, or for me. It isn’t so the socks and sandals brigade can discuss the fade on Good Morning. It’s about kids putting on one of the greatest records of all time and realising the music is timeless, just there to be enjoyed. Sadly no kids are going to seek out the mono, the record the band mixed. So we made a stereo mix using the same care, attention and process that the band did 50 years ago.

Cynical marketing? I completely understand your point, but from those of us involved in the project all we are trying to do is celebrate the music.

I hope all is well with you and I hope to see you Tuesday.

All the best

Giles

Yes, you can get SMS, i.e. text messages, on your Mac (and iPad!) via your iPhone.

I heard from many people, and I applaud your diligence and your experience, it takes a village to use a device these days, especially since there’s essentially no tech help (unless you pay for AppleCare, which I do have on my two computers, but I find researching online usually gets me the answer faster, and the low-level people you first get connected to are for bozos, their questions are along the line of “Is it plugged in?,” but I must say, when you get kicked upstairs, the techs are incredible and on the case, they’ll work on the problem, they’ll call you back, and that’s what you’ve got Applecare for, other than the physical breakdown, for the answers to the unanswerable, to you anyway, although oftentimes when you’re flummoxed you find out it’s a glitch.)

ANYWAY, you can get both iMessages and SMS on your computer.

Many people don’t know this (although all the people who e-mailed me do!)

And if you read the following tech note, easily digestible with color, from Apple, it will explain it all.

Set up SMS and MMS messaging

Scroll down to: “Set up SMS and MMS messaging” to enable the SMS forwarding feature.

In other words, I don’t want you to get overwhelmed by a whole page of information, not that it’s incomprehensible, but today with tech when it works it works and we oftentimes don’t like to mess with it.

But ANYWAY, based on my conversations out in the field, it appears that many people do not have the iMessage/text-forwarding feature enabled on their Macs, and once they do, they’ll enter a state of nirvana.

It’s a pain in the ass to type lengthy messages on a device.

But on a regular keyboard?

I’m always astounding people by sending lengthy replies to their iMessages, they’re wowed by how fast I can type, but what they don’t know is that I’m doing it on a full-sized keyboard connected to a computer, not on my iPhone!