“Paul Simon: Words & Music”

You’ve got to hook ’em with the very first line.

Some things never change. Just like hip-hop is the sound of the streets and rock and roll is overbaked. That’s when Paul Simon turned away from rock to folk, when the former was repetitive and the latter was saying something, important.

And it was sung by the beautiful Baez.

Paul’s words, not mine. Yes, there are some politically incorrect statements in this exhibit, but it was fifty years ago, times were different, but people were just the same.

Waiting for the Yankees to come on the radio, Paul was infected by this record “Gee.” You’d get it if you heard it, and you do in this exhibit. That’s the power of music, when done right it grabs you, when done wrong, it’s ignored, especially today.

So Paul’s father gives him a guitar. This is the early fifties. But in ’64, the same thing happened with the baby boomers, they saw the Beatles on “Ed Sullivan” and all picked up axes and formed bands, the same way every kid on the street corner is now a rapper. You imitate what stimulates.

So Paul meets the vaunted Artie in school, where Garfunkel is famous for his vocalizing, and they parade up and down the New York streets until they cut a demo and a label overhears them and gives them a deal.

The renamed “Tom and Jerry” have a hit. The label even gets Alan Freed to play it. It’s on “American Bandstand.” With the proceeds Paul buys a convertible. Which catches fire with him inside of it, and after his car is destroyed he never scores another smash, and moves to England after dropping out of law school, where no one is paying attention and he can write songs and get paid fifteen pounds for a gig in 1965.

And the truth is, every baby boomer knows the history. But what makes this exhibit so stimulating is the artifacts and the insights.

Stuff like Simon’s summer camp letter to Garfunkel. Talking about being a waiter, and the girls.

The original label contract.

And all the interludes about life and inspiration.

Being an artist… That’s something that’s fallen by the wayside. Today we have commercial musicians and holier-than-thou performers who call themselves artists but live in an alternative universe where they get no traction.

But in the sixties and seventies, artists ruled. Musical artists. And the way you won was by following your muse and experimenting. Constantly changing it up, not repeating yourself. We were oftentimes flummoxed when hearing the new work of our favorites, but we respected them and gave their tunes time. Funnily enough, the greatest exponent of this today is Justin Bieber, who’s constantly working with new collaborators with different sounds, from DJ Snake to Luis Fonsi. The old farts pooh-pooh, but the little girls understand.

But Paul Simon turned into an adult. And explored adult themes. He grew.

And he’s still here.

Oftentimes we venerate people only when they’re gone. But Paul’s still creating. His song “Wristband” is more timely than most of the stuff on the hit parade. The fact that there’s no place for it on today’s Top Forty is not his fault.

And so many of his songs were political, standing up to the dreaded Nixon.

And Clive Davis, who told him he’d never be as famous without Garfunkel. That’s a great label head, disincentivizing his charges to create. If you’re not willing to follow the artist, you should not be in this business, the artist always knows best, never forget it.

And you see the guitars and the handwritten lyrics and you’re brought back to when.

And when you read about the inspiration, the writing of “Graceland”… Today we think being an artist is promoting, getting your name out there, being in the flow. But the truth is you cannot be creative unless you live your life. Which is why so many of the songs are written by old men and women off the scenes. But since they don’t live a life either, the lyrics are vapid. It’s when lightning strikes that greatness emanates.

Like at Elvis Presley’s estate. Simon couldn’t write lyrics so he went to Graceland, and thought it was uninspiring. But when he saw the lines carved into Presley’s gravestone at the end… The song came together.

Just like “Bridge Over Troubled Water”… He was strumming his guitar and the song fell into place, just that fast. You’re a conduit. Not that Simon didn’t rework his lyrics till he was satisfied.

And it’s this edginess, this belief in his own path, that causes him to have a less than likable image. We want our artists to be warm and fuzzy, just like us, but they’re not, certainly not the greats, if you’ve met any you know this, they’re different, oftentimes tortured, always staring into the distance at a destination only they can see.

If you want to know the history, this Skirball exhibit is pretty good.

But if you want to be inspired, put into a space where you too can create, it’s EXCEPTIONAL!

A museum is where we go to get away from society to reconnect with it. When done right an exhibit requires all of our attention, and rewards us for it.

This presentation might look like a victory lap, but in truth it’s a beacon, if you’re desirous of going some place, if you live on creativity, if you’re looking for your inner tuning fork to vibrate, if you can respect someone who did it his way and won.

And is still doing it.

Is like a band.

You need a leader with a vision, and a group of players who come together in furtherance of the sound.

Assuming you want to have a hit.

Most bands never succeed.

And neither do most startups.

Yesterday I went to a WeWork space in Playa Vista. That’s right, there’s a tech scene in L.A. Nowhere near as big as the one in the Bay Area, and that’s a problem, you can staff up easily up north, but down here, you have to convince people to move and give them ownership. That’s right, at the start, everybody’s an owner, all 23 people in attendance. Sure, they’re getting paid, but their future is involved. Imagine if this was the case at a record company. Could you imagine the vibe, how successful it would be? But labels are archaic constructions in a mature business, there hasn’t been any new thinking since the sixties, when they all hired house hippies, although they have gotten the memo on data.

So you’re at the WeWork space. Where the other entrepreneurs reside. Three floors of this building are WeWork spaces. You’ve got your cubicle or more. There are telephone booth-sized spaces for privacy, for phone calls, but on your own phone, and there is collaboration, an exchange of ideas. You see tech is fluid. With constant expansions and contractions, sales. It’s all about the pivot, if you hit a wall and have no success you take a different direction, whereas in music we’ve been taking the same direction all century. Pop and hip-hop. Used to be there was a new sound that wiped out the old every few years. And now you know why music no longer drives the culture, why it’s a second class citizen, either you innovate or you die.

But unlike a label, the startup office is quiet. There are no stereos blaring. But there are parties, relaxation, because when you’re called to do an all-nighter, to meet a deadline, you have to know you can blow off steam.

That’s right, it’s like college. Do you remember college? They didn’t change the date of the test just for you. Life is about showing up and delivering, meeting deadlines, and if you can’t do this there’s no place for you in life, never mind tech.

So the visionary had an idea. Pondered it for more than a minute. The inspiration is important, but so is the execution. The idea is the kernel, if it’s wrong, you’re wasting your time, so you’d better get it right. How many bands were started with a vision? Just ask Glenn Frey. Oops, that’s right, you can’t. But Don Henley will tell you, how on that very first Ronstadt date, in D.C., the night before, Frey laid out his complete vision for the Eagles. They were backup musicians! But before long, they would own one of the two biggest selling albums of all time.

Then comes the money.

In music, it comes from the labels. In startups, it comes from the VCs. And just like in music, you’re giving up action for cash. But just like music, if you win, there’s enough money for everybody.

But unlike music, you don’t have to prove your idea first. But you do have to prove yourself. They only give money to those with experience, with a track record. It’s millions, double-digit in many cases, the VCs are not just throwing the money around, away, this is an investment, this is a bet, they’ve got to get it right.

So then the visionary finds a CTO, Chief Technology Officer. Who can actually build what the visionary sees in his head.

And then the hiring begins.

Everybody gets a brand new laptop, and a big screen to plug it into when they’re in the office. No corners are cut, that would be wrong, since the goal is so big and the money spent is accordingly large.

BUT IT’S NOT DRUDGERY!

The assembled multitude loves to code, they love to build things.

That’s what they told me when I asked. You’re just not performing a rote role. You’re depended upon.

But you’ve got to deliver.

Yes, the nerds rule. These same nerds who used to be musicians, who gave up when society got too coarse, when there was more money in tech, and more freedom. Used to be the label was a conduit, today it tells you what to do, no one likes to be told what to do, there’s more freedom in tech.

So it’s exciting, if you’ve got the chops. If you drop out, say school’s stupid, think you can live by your wits as opposed to your education, there’s no place for you.

So the band rehearses for a year or two and then launches.

Does it succeed?

Unlike a band, the startup has to get it right on the very first try. They launch slowly, adjust along the way, but there’s no artist development. Either the visionary had it right or they didn’t.

But if they did…

They kill all comers in their wake.

This is what the establishment doesn’t understand, with its marketing teams and layers of management, guided by consultants with me-too advice. That if someone takes a run at their business by building a better mousetrap, they’re history. It’s like selling landlines in the era of mobiles, your death warrant has been signed.

Now I don’t know how to code. And I’m too old to start over. But if I was young, I’d hitch my wagon to an enterprise and see where it takes me. And the great thing is you don’t only get one ride, failure equals experience, you can get another gig. Youth is not revered. You’re not playing to tweens. And if you get it right, YOU CHANGE THE WORLD!

Bryan Ferry – Spotify

With the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra.

It was WONDERFUL!

You go to a show and know they’re never going to play your favorite song, the one you need to hear, the album track from decades before, especially a driving, electronic number sans strings, at least the real thing.

But after the conductor’s introduction, Bryan Ferry entered from stage left and the assembled multitude lit into THE MAIN THING!

I couldn’t believe it. It’s like my brain left my body and hovered above in amazement, purely stunned that a track I thought I’d NEVER hear live was emanating from the bandstand with a glory heretofore unknown, it took the original and added power and levitated not only the song, but the audience.

Roxy Music were never superstars over here. They were a cult item with some songs on FM radio when that level of achievement still existed. Then they broke up and got back together and just before they called it a day once again they dropped an LP so out of time, so different from what was being played on the burgeoning MTV, it was completely overlooked.

That album was entitled “Avalon.” A record with no hits that eventually became the soundtrack to more trysts than the work of any of today’s crooners, John Legend, R. Kelly, they’re not even in the same LEAGUE!

You see Roxy Music had a big enough audience that “Avalon” wasn’t completely stiff upon release, fans bought it and spun it, because that’s what you did, played the album of your favorites a few times before discarding it, since you’d paid for it, but in this case, around play two or three, the sound penetrated, a door opened and you were let into a world so exquisite you couldn’t stop telling everybody about it. It became a secret code, a sound you heard in living rooms, in bedrooms, despite no hosannas from the press or buttons pushed at radio. Back before CDs, I’d put the Technics on endless repeat, you can do that with turntables, as I cavorted on the couch, in the bedroom nearby, as I engaged in a world of sensuality with my partner. “Avalon” is the preferred romantic soundtrack of the baby boomers. And they were in attendance last night.

Now you always started with the first side, but it’s the second that contained the track that grabbed me first, “To Turn You On,” and since I needed to hear that I’d drop the needle on side two and the first song to emanate from the JBLs was…

“The Main Thing.”

Some songs take a while to get, they’re not your immediate favorites, but over time they become so, sometimes over years, the song I needed to hear again and again from “Avalon” as the decades plowed on was “The Main Thing.”

Look at my hand
There’s a soul on fire
You can lead me even higher

I hadn’t seen Bryan Ferry since the “In Your Mind” tour, back at the Santa Monica Civic. He’s exotic, off the radar screen, but if you’re a fan to see him is to go someplace just as important as that of the purveyors of hits, and just as worthy.

So he’s got his ten piece band, with Chris Spedding shredding and two women blowing and backup singers wailing and the orchestra is adding emphasis and you’re listening and you’re telling yourself…THERE’S NO PLACE I’D RATHER BE!

And then came “Slave To Love.”

That’s right, Bryan was playing songs we knew by heart that eluded others, all the album cuts, all the covers we spent time listening to when that was still a thing, when music was not plentiful and you made your choices and stayed with them, dove deep.

And then came another hurrah.

I got turned on to Roxy Music in London. Back in the summer of ’72. The country was ahead musically, it’s still ahead musically. The biggest acts, on victory laps, were T. Rex and David Bowie, they were all over the weekly papers, but there was this nascent act whose record was being played over the in-house sound system at Virgin Records, Roxy Music, I bought it, with its shiny cover and no shrinkwrap. My two favorite songs were on the first side, “If There Was Something,” which hooked me in the store, and “Ladytron.”

Lady if you want to find a lover
Then you look no further
For I’m gonna be your only

But as much as the lyrics hook you, it’s the instrumentation that puts the song over the top, and there was this lithe, slinky woman Jorja Chalmers blowing like she was possessed and you felt like you were on a spaceship to MARS! How could this be happening? How could Bryan be going back to his very first album, how could he be playing what I so needed to hear but didn’t expect to?

And Ferry has made a side career of covers. I remember buying “These Foolish Things” after graduating from college and my father opening the door to my room to sing along to the title track, AND HE NEVER DID THAT, never to one of my records.

So we were granted a twisted take on Bob Dylan’s “Simple Twist Of Fate,” which was better than anything the bard has done in years.

But my personal piece-de-resistance was “Can’t Let Go,” from Bryan’s 1978 LP “The Bride Stripped Bare.”

It’s a winding road from Cuesta Way
Down Sunset to the beach

As in SUNSET BOULEVARD! I was in law school, the only thing that got me through was my records. I was a transplant from the east coast, Ferry was in from the U.K., the reference resonated, and it did last night, here I was in SoCal at the Hollywood Bowl with my hero, how much better could it be?

And then back to where we started, with “Avalon.”

I could feel at the time
There was no way of knowing

That thirty five years would pass, music would become a second-class citizen dominated by disposable pop, yet the stars of yesteryear would still be plying the boards, wowing those who were there the first time through, as well as those who weren’t, the twentysomethings who jumped up and just had to dance.

It was truly more than this.

And then the title track of that vaunted LP and a killer rendition of “Love Is The Drug,” which finally led to airplay in the U.S., it was Roxy Music’s breakthrough, with the car starting in the beginning.

And then the band’s first hit in the U.K., “Virginia Plain.”

Which was followed by the opening track of the second LP, “Do The Strand.”

And then the finale, “Jealous Guy.”

It went nowhere when John Lennon released it, but when Bryan Ferry and his band recorded it, it went straight to number one in the U.K., as well as Australia and on Radio Luxembourg, as well as going Top Ten in eight other countries, but nada in the U.S.

Because the U.S. is bright and shiny, but oftentimes misses the plot, the subtlety of magic music.

I was dreaming of the past

Going to Burlington to buy “Stranded.” Seeing the women on the cover of the English version of “Country Life.” Listening to my own personal secret, “Oh Yeah.”

And my heart was beating fast

Just when you think you’re dead, that nothing can elevate your heartbeat anymore, you enter a space so comfortable and well known but foreign in your later years and it feels so good to be back home.

I began to lose control

But that really didn’t happen until afterward, at the Chateau Marmont, Bryan’s son Isaac implored me to come, he said he and his dad would be leaving the Bowl in five minutes.

That proved to be untrue. I ended up in the hotel lobby talking to an art dealer who told me that Bryan was a man of few words.

And then he arrived. The guy who’d just whistled on stage.

And we shook hands and…

He didn’t move on, he didn’t leave.

We talked about the show, we talked about his career, we talked about Broadway, and then Bryan Ferry told me he couldn’t wait to move on to something new.

I asked him what it was.

He laughed and said if he told me he couldn’t do it.

I exploded inside, told him that I understood, this was exactly how I felt, if I told someone what I was going to write, I couldn’t, write that is.

And then, after ten minutes had passed, I said I’d let him go, I knew he had to press other flesh.

But I felt like I’d been to the mountaintop, that I’d finally become an insider.

You see it’s about people. You wander through life feeling alone, that no one gets you. And then you have a conversation with someone and find out they’re just like you.

But I didn’t expect it to be Bryan Ferry.

“Birdhouse ‘Saturdays’ Official Trailer”

It’s what I moved to California for.

Once upon a time, skateboards had steel wheels. But then polyurethane came along and it changed the sport. I realized this in the parking lot at Mammoth Mountain in May of ’75. One of the locals insisted I try his new board. Which I did, riding way down the parking lot. It was smooth, it was glorious, but it was a long hike back to where I started.

So I stepped off.

Don’t ever do this.

You’re going fast. The earth is stationary. You place your foot and you begin to tumble. Thank god I was still wearing my ski clothes, but the asphalt burned through my ski pants and my long underwear and I ended up with scrapes that took years to heal on my elbow and thigh.

I don’t think I’ve been on a skateboard since.

But it was then that it all started. In the seventies. Skate culture. Of which the preeminent personality is Tony Hawk.

Now when I lived in Utah, we pooh-poohed the surfers. Because of their ethos. All you needed was a board and an ocean, no lift ticket, no clothing, except for maybe a wetsuit, and housing was not at a premium. Any time there was crime, we blamed it on the surfers, and this too often turned out to be true, and if caught red-handed they’d decamp in their Volkswagens for California, but surfers were the nicest guys around.

Skateboarding is even cheaper. The barrier to entry is nearly nonexistent. And it requires no ocean. So a whole culture burgeoned.

And it is this culture that I experienced last night at the Ace Theatre for the premiere of Tony Hawk’s film “Saturdays.”

People hate skaters. The noise. The way they scuff up pools and public works. But nothing can stop them. It’s rebellion on the most basic level. Tell a skater no, and he just hears yes, it’s a challenge to them. Wealth is not a determination of status. Everybody’s equal, the main criterion is whether you can skate, and whether you can get along.

Everybody was friendly. Now that’s kind of amazing in today’s divided country. But skaters are all in it together, outside the mainstream, even though one can argue they are the mainstream, they’re bonded together, by the sensation, by the thrill.

I’ll admit enjoying Netflix.

But it’s nothing like sports.

And I’m not talking about those team affairs, that youngsters age out of and oldsters follow with a fury, but individual events. Although there are ultimately competitions, it’s really about a solo effort, what you experience. You don’t have to be great to enjoy them, but the better you are the more thrilling it becomes, and you want to get better, and you want to be thrilled.

It’s the sensation that makes me want to ski every day. The only thing I can compare it to is sex. Can you name one single thing that feels like sex? I can’t. And I can’t name one single thing that feels like skiing, sliding down a mountain at the limits of your experience, danger around every curve.

But the difference between skiing and skating is when you fall doing the former, you’re on snow, when you take a dive doing the latter, you’re on asphalt.

And the tricks they’re performing in this flick are astounding. Not only riding down stairs, but jumping over them completely! All by faceless people unless…

You’re part of the culture, and then you know everybody.

Tony came out with the team to introduce the movie. The applause was thunderous. Nobody was primped, this was not the Oscars, full of fakery, everybody came as they truly are. And after the hoots and hollers died down, the lights were dimmed and…

We saw what you see on YouTube. Only at the highest level. In a theatre in Los Angeles.

It’s hard to explain L.A. It’s a fluid culture where who you are and how you live is most important. And by talking about who you are I don’t mean your job, that’s secondary, but your identity. Are you fully-formed, are you enlightened, do you have your priorities in order. Watching “Saturdays” it was like income inequality didn’t exist, no one was bitching they weren’t making enough, even though Tony Hawk is one of the highest paid athletes in the nation.

But that’s because people believe in him.

Tony wasn’t told what to do. He developed on his own. And he’s got no airs, no attitude, he treats the wannabe and the star the same. Who wouldn’t be drawn to him?

But he wasn’t the only star of the flick.

Actually, one of the biggest stars was a woman, Lizzie Armanto, who was the only one wearing knee pads and a helmet other than Tony himself. She’s riding the pool and you don’t say Lizzie is good for a girl, she’s just plain GOOD!

And there are tricks and antics and even stars.

That’s right, Andy Samberg and Jason Sudeikis, David Spade in his “Joe Dirt” mullet. Even Amanda Palmer playing the ukulele. You see everybody in the know is in the know. It’s a secret society.

And the secret society was in attendance. Because if it was open to the public it would be shut down, by the horde who just want to get closer…

And Mark Mothersbaugh was there, he and Tony posed in Devo flower pot hats and…

I’m thinking how it can only happen here, in L.A. Where the fringe is de rigueur, where it’s three hours behind New York and no one cares.

So Tony Hawk is living every boy’s fantasy. That’s right, we dream of playing for the Yankees, making a living as an athlete. I tried, I was filmed doing a spread eagle off the cornice of Wipeout at Mammoth, but I dropped out.

But I never lost the urge. I never lost the desire. Hell, I have a friend who’s a concert promoter who skis every day during the winter and surfs in the summer when he’s not out with the biggest band in the world. You see you just cannot get over it. You can tell yourself otherwise. But when you see Tony and his posse doing their tricks, all you can do is sit there as your jaw drops and say…I WANT TO DO THAT TOO!