The youth in America are getting ready to revolt.

How do I know?

Because it happened in Russia.

Seen as apathetic, dormant for five years, the younger generation erupted over the weekend, inspired by a charismatic leader after a YouTube post on corruption in the nation garnered millions of views. Turns out you can only push people so far, eliminate their future whilst you grab today for yourself, before they erupt.

Trump and his cronies have eradicated internet privacy, fouled the air and have indicated a willingness to roll back all the progress, the leveling of the playing field, that occurred previously. These givebacks to the rich, to industry, are seen as too detached, far from the boots on the ground. Furthermore, they believe they’ve got the white working class behind them, however delusional those people might be.

But it’s the college students who revolt.

There’s been incredible pushback to the swarm at Middlebury, who wouldn’t let Charles Murray speak. The administration was caught flat-footed, the editorial pages have been wagging their fingers, but the kids are not listening. And this is the only power they’ve got, they don’t have any cash. Hell, did you read that “New Yorker” story about Robert Mercer, making 150 million a year and then influencing the political process? Citizens United has consequences. Income inequality has consequences. The price of college has consequences.

How do I know?

I lived through the Vietnam War. Wherein most Americans believed we lived in the greatest country in the world, and when we lifted a finger we would emerge victorious. But as the conflict dragged on, charismatic leaders swayed the youth who started protesting, ultimately halting the war, it was just too unpopular.

And don’t try and rewrite history, don’t try to eliminate the uproar and upset of that decade. Things were going along swimmingly and then everybody wanted their rights, wanted to call foul on the establishment of old white men making the rules in back rooms. Black power? Today we’ve got gay power and trans power and you add them all up and you hit a critical mass of young people who are pissed. They got their social mores from MTV and the internet and all we’re lacking is someone to crack the whip and inspire them.

In the sixties it was musicians. And then the Black Panthers and the Chicago 8. We’ve ben waiting for someone in the arts to lead, but the popular arts are so inured to money they won’t. Taylor Swift is afraid of alienating her audience. She’s been silent. They’ve all been silent. Sacrificing their credibility at the altar of mazuma.

But that does not mean someone else will not arise. Not someone built by a media preaching to an adult audience. Not someone promoted by a committee of gatekeepers. Not someone utilizing social media to build their brand. No, this leader will begin with a message. A younger Michael Moore with a “Roger and Me.” Someone who speaks to the rapid turn away from enlightenment.

Your opinion does not matter. Whether you’re shooting opioids or flying private. Paying attention to D.C.’s every move or somnambulant. This is not about the country at large, this is about a small segment that is actually quite large. Students.

We think they’re pampered. Living on Mommy and Daddy’s money in ultra-luxury on the campus. Ensuring their gold-plated future.

But no one knows how hard it is to get ahead as a student. You pays your money, you take your classes, and when you graduate you’re lucky if you’re not living with mommy and daddy in the basement working a minimum wage service job. You’re not worried about immigrants stealing your gig, many of your best friends are immigrants and mixed-race. You know that some of the greatest breakthroughs in tech were made by foreign engineers living in America. The freedom you want is the ability to think. Whereas the right wing believes freedom is eliminating the government which is supposed to protect that right.

This is not a polemic.

This is a warning.

The government, the parents, they believe they’re in control of their progeny. That they wouldn’t do anything untoward or unexpected.

But they will.

In retrospect the seeds of conflagration will be evident.

But when most people hear about it it will look like spontaneous combustion. Like it came out of thin air, overnight.

You may be down in the trenches. Talking about the electoral college, the popular vote, legislation… But Agent Orange is poisoning not only our air, but the future of this planet, and the people who have the most at risk are the youngest, now living on campus, thinking for themselves, looking around at who is gonna save them other than themselves.

Nobody.

Which is why they’re gonna blow.

“In Protests, Kremlin Fears a Young Generation Stirring”

“The Reclusive Hedge-Fund Tycoon Behind The Trump Presidency, How Robert Mercer exploited Americas populist insurgency”

1. We all want to be listened to.

Everybody’s got a story, everybody wants to tell it, but too few people have the patience to extract it from them. If you listen to someone’s story, they’ll be your best friend forever. You’ll bond. Everybody’s got something to say, something you find of interest, everybody got here on a different path with moments of intersection. But beware of the taker, the person who only talks and never listens. They’re to be avoided at all cost. I’m not sure why these people act the way they do, why they refuse to be reciprocal, why they’re incapable of being interested in you. It’s to their detriment.

2. Tell your story.

Look for the openings. If no one is listening, find a different audience. The myth is we’re all alike. When you sit at home and you feel that you can’t relate to a certain group, believe it. Sure, work on your skills of integration, but even more search out your peers. We’re led to believe there’s a hierarchy, of rich, popular and good-looking, and if you’re not one of them, you’re a loser. Also, there’s all this fake nerddom going around, winners who tell you they’re losers, ignore them. That’s another problem with America, for all the people telling you how great they are there are even more who are self-deprecating, making you wince when they say they’re just lucky. We’re looking for honest connection, if you’re honest, you’ll draw people to you.

3. Life’s too short to do something you hate.

But since money is king, a plethora of people are doing jobs they dislike while others are thrilled just to have a job. That’s the challenge of life, fulfillment. Unfortunately that comes after food, money, shelter and love. But no one is gonna be remembered and no one is judging you in the end and the longer you live you realize it’s all about forging your own path. If you need others for validation life is gonna be lonely. Do what satiates you.

4. Life boils down to dreamers who act and dreamers who are afraid.

The dreamers who take a chance believe it’s easy but complain when they fail. Or, they blow up their life or their world and walk away like there are no consequences. When someone tells you they got divorced yesterday and are over it today, run. Emotional scars run deep. Even if many are afraid to look at them and accept them. Then there are those who are afraid to take a risk. Either they never end up taking one or their back is up against the wall and they do. Desperation makes people do crazy stuff, like lie, cheat and steal. But it also inspires you to jump off the cliff. Dylan’s lyric is correct, when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose.

5. Not everybody can win and there is no scorecard.

This is hard to fathom after years of schooling, after being inundated with the ravings of the social media entertainment complex. America is about making you feel inadequate, so you’ll buy stuff. You’re no more inadequate than the rich and famous, and the sooner you realize this the quicker you’ll be on the road to happiness. What you think you want is often not what you need. What you need is someone who listens to you who’ll support you, who’ll call you on your b.s. but won’t run away from you.

6. He who speaks loudest first is oftentimes wrong.

Some people are incapable of speaking up. Some people are afraid of blowback. And then there are those who always grab the mic and blather on. There might be a first mover advantage, but it’s often squandered. Evaluate people on more than their image, on more than their public behavior. We’ve got an incredibly insecure President, who can’t endure hate in a world where it’s never been more prevalent. Don’t be him. Not everybody’s gonna like you. Let it slide off your back, not inhibit you. If you worry about what others say you’ll never get started.

7. Know when to quit.

Perseverance is key, but it does not always yield rewards. Stay the course until the odds are low and then pivot. Forget all the stories of people who believed but were broke and then triumphed. The key is to always be looking for the pivot. But to honor your commitments. This is complicated, because too many people can’t complete anything, and completion comes first. But for those who can finish, sometimes you shouldn’t.

8. Just because everybody else is jumping off the bridge, that does not mean you should.

Remember the dot com era? You couldn’t find anybody who said it was gonna come to an end, but it did.  Which is why Warren Buffett is so successful. He looks at the fundamentals. You can’t be a doctor without going to medical school and if there’s no obvious revenue stream chances are the business will fail.

9. Sex and cunning and flirting will move you up the corporate food chain.

But it won’t make you a success. Stop worrying about those utilizing their assets to get ahead, stabbing you in the back, sucking up to the boss. They’re gonna Peter Principle themselves out of a gig or hit a ceiling. People know when you’re dedicated and do good work. And if you’re dedicated and doing good work and not reaping the rewards, you’ve got to change your situation. The corporation does not care about you, never ever, unfortunately you’re in this all by yourself.

“Rich Girl” got me through law school.

I didn’t want to go, but I’d run out of options. I’d choked at the freestyle ingress, gotten the world’s worst case of mononucleosis, part of me wanted to stay at Snowbird but I knew if I didn’t leave Utah right then, I’d be there forever. That’s the lure of skiing. Mostly the sensation of freedom. But there’s the fresh air and the mountains and it turns out John Oates got hooked too. Went to Aspen on a ski trip in college and ended up buying a condo and moving there after the thrill was gone, after the band had had its hits, had broken up, and he was broke. There he skied every day, found new love and got remarried, even had a kid. He was living the life of normalcy. We think of them as stars, but the truth is they’re just regular people, possibly with a prolonged adolescence, but either you have to O.D. or face the truth, we’re all equal on this planet, we all have to get along.

Now Hall & Oates were an FM band. Hip with little traction. You knew who they were but you didn’t own any albums. Devoted followers of the scene knew that Tavares had had a huge hit with their cover of “She’s Gone,” but Hall & Oates was a struggling Philadelphia act that had worked with Arif Mardin and then taken a left turn with Todd Rundgren and had now switched labels to the worst in the business, RCA, which mean it was only a matter of time before they fell off the edge and ended up in the dustbin.

But then came “Rich Girl.”

Okay, okay, purists would say it started with “Sara Smile.” And it did. But that was mostly an AM hit in an FM world, “Rich Girl” was played on FM, and no community had more FM stations than Los Angeles, you could twist the dial and hear your favorite song multiple times, almost like owning it. And that’s what I did with “Rich Girl.”

There was no long intro. No overbearing instrumentation. Just Daryl Hall and a keyboard immediately getting into your brain, jerking you by the arm, taking you on a roller coaster ride that was oh-so-brief in an era when everything was oh-so-long. I distinctly remember the first time I heard it, driving out of the law school parking lot, it brightened my day, made me feel like life was worth living, like I could endure the boredom and inanity of law school if I could just hear music like this.

That’s why I had to be in Los Angeles. It was the epicenter, with billboards on Sunset and gigs every night of the week. I could lead an alternative lifestyle. Inhabiting the record stores and reading the rags while my school brethren read the books. Actually, I gave up the books completely the second semester, other than Criminal Procedure, because I liked the teacher and he liked me, and was scared I was gonna flunk out and then my father would excoriate me but the truth is they’ve got these things they call outlines that the professors pooh-pooh but will carry you through, I found that out and got scores better than 85% of my class and all this is true but the competition wasn’t that great. And part of the reason I’d given up studying, although I did go to class, if you stop going to class it’s like you’re not in school at all, was because I’d fallen in love, and that was more important than anything transpiring in a classroom. Maybe if I had better teachers I’d have been more into it, but I didn’t care about the law anyway, just music, and John Oates cared about music and sought out the best teachers and slowly moved ahead.

We have the belief it’s an overnight success. John played in bands, went to college, cut records, heard them on the radio and was still nowhere. That’s how it was back then. A deal with a major label was a dream that rarely came true. To be a hero in your own hometown was oftentimes good enough.

Now I loved “Rich Girl” so much, even though it sounded not a whit like Zeppelin or so many of my other favorites, that I went out and bought the album, “Bigger Than Both of Us,” which was so good I had to buy it on CD when that format burgeoned, even though it didn’t sound a whole hell of a lot better than the vinyl. And not only does “Bigger Than Both of Us” get no respect, it’s not even considered in a discussion of the best albums of the seventies, but it should be, it’s playable throughout and it’s peaks are oh-so-high. Not only “Rich Girl,” but “Crazy Eyes” and “Do What You Want, Be What You Are.”

Payin’ dues, Earth Shoes, Chicago blues
Is that how you feel

I’d owned Earth Shoes! With their negative heel. But no one under the age of fifty is familiar with them and no one under that age knows Hall & Oates’s follow-up, “Beauty on a Back Street,” with the irresistible opening cut “Don’t Change” and the mysterious, sensual “Winged Bull,” but I do. I bought each and every Hall & Oates album subsequently, because when you can reach these heights, you may again.

Not that “X-Static” didn’t have me questioning this concept, but “Voices” emerged with “You Make My Dreams” and “Kiss On My List” and they were different from what had come before but just as infectious. And suddenly Hall & Oates were on a tear, one hit single after another, the darlings of MTV before being derided and experiencing a renaissance, before being inducted into he Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and going on an arena tour with Tears For Fears this summer.

And through it all, John Oates has been seen as the sidekick, the junior member. After all, Daryl Hall has one of the greatest voices in rock and roll history.

But the truth is neither of them could break through without the other. I purchased Daryl Hall’s solo LP “Three Hearts in the Happy Ending Machine,” and although “Foolish Pride” is a killer, the rest pales.

And Oates has never broken through alone.

But Oates came up with “Maneater,” he details the inspiration in this book. And he wrote the opener “How Does It Feel To Be Back” from “Bigger Than Both of Us” and the truth is, they need each other, there’s a special alchemy that happens when they’re both involved.

And they became involved back at Temple, after they’d been in rival bands.

All this forgoing college because you’re gonna make it.

Er, no, you’re probably not gonna make it. And Hall & Oates stayed in school. To get out of the war if nothing else. John details singing at his wrestling co-captain’s funeral, after he was blown to bits in Vietnam, and you recall how it was.

It was oh-so-different.

They say it’s the same today, but it’s not.

First and foremost, music ruled the world. Radio was the internet. And nobody was paying attention. Nobody had a smartphone, cameras used film, your everyday moves were not charted, which was especially freeing. I know, I know, it was even freer prior to my birth but I will tell you it’s inhibiting having everybody in your business, knowing there’s a camera on every corner to detail your faux pas.

And the two signed bad publishing contracts but ultimately hooked up with Tommy Mottola who whacked the money three ways, equally, and they went on the ride of a lifetime, and when it was all over, after Mottola had moved to CBS/Sony, John’s accountant called him in for a meeting where he told him he was broke.

Now this wasn’t the fifties, or the sixties, not even the seventies. But Hall & Oates were nine mil in the hole and Oates had to sell almost all of his assets to get ahead. One of the best part of the book is his detailing of his therapy appointments after learning the money was gone. It was the same shrink he saw with his ex-wife, who he’d screwed around on and hadn’t been honest with in couples therapy. The shrink busted him. Said he was not special. And to get with the program.

We’ve all got to get with the program, or find out options are limited. The world sees you as a rock star, and if you believe this it’s only a matter of time before you wake up and find out you’re a punk.

And this book is not the definitive Hall & Oates biography. I wanted more on each individual album, more introspection about the career, the ups and downs. Hell, Oates doesn’t display any anxiety, anything other than raw positivity and belief until he runs out of cash.

But the truth is this is not the usual rock memoir. It’s half Hall & Oates and half John’s introspective stories. The first third is all before stardom. Being the golden child in an Italian family. Bumming through Europe. And you read this and you realize, he’s not that much different from you. I was not the golden child, but I did go to Europe, I do remember picking up mail at American Express and that’s one of the highlights of the book, detailing the way it used to be.

And there are stories of buying cars and auto racing, but few tales of debauchery and it’s like your best friend from high school catching you up on the last forty years, with the comeuppance at the end, the running out of money and fame, that equalizes the equation. You didn’t go down this road, but you had your adventure too. You thought you wanted to be him, now you’re not so sure.

But it is good to be the king, for a while anyway, no one stays on top forever. Flying private and hanging with the household names. But it gets old and empty and all you’re left with is your memories, you’ve still got to get up every day and pull on your pants and wonder what you’re gonna do next. The joke is on those who get plastic surgery to be stuck in the past while the audience moves on. If you don’t grow up, if you don’t realize you’re just a troubadour, here for a short while, you’re gonna end up frustrated and unhappy.

And the tales of Hunter Thompson in Woody Creek are the best I’ve ever read, you get a feeling for the writer and his lifestyle.

But this is not the best book ever written, nor is it the most engrossing, and I’m not sure I’m recommending it, but I had to read it.

Because of those records.

“Change of Seasons: A Memoir”

 

From John Oates:

Bob, tonight just as I stepped off the plane at La Guardia to kick off my book promotion tour, your take on my memoir “Change of Seasons” appeared at the top of my smartphone’s email list.

First off, thank you for taking the time to read it and taking even more time to write about it. My gut tells me that the western heat wave and your apprehension over the orthopedic perils of spring skiing snow snakes might have given you a bit more time to ruminate. Bonus for me…to paraphrase one of your recent editorials…its all about “attention” in this vapid ADD society that we all must navigate whether we like it or not.

So I’ll take my fleeting moment of attention with gratitude and with the knowledge that because you’ve briefly shined the light in my direction there might be others who may discover and appreciate my humble story of personal transformation and musical dedication.

Thank you…and I agree the Hunter Thompson stuff is pretty good, even he said so when I read it to him in his kitchen command center. J.O.

I can’t get this song out of my head.

I needed to hear something familiar, so I dialed up Classic Vinyl on Sirius XM. But when I hit a clunker I switched to 60’s on 6 and heard this, which I didn’t want to listen to, because the Walker Brothers never really made it over here, but I kept listening because something deep in my memory bank told me there was an entrancing change a’ comin’, and it did!

The sun ain’t gonna shine anymore
The moon ain’t gonna rise in the sky
The tears are always clouding your eyes
When you’re without love, baby

And it’s not about the words, I don’t think I ever understood their meaning until I just wrote them down, but the sound. The way the verse segues into this release, wherein the vocalist is suddenly set free, able to reveal his innermost feelings. Then again, there’s a scrim between you and him, it’s a Wall of Sound production even though it wasn’t produced by Phil Spector, but Bob Crewe, who got some ink upon his death back in 2014, having mostly to do with his sexual preference, which was unknown by the general public back in his heyday, but those of us who purchased 45’s knew his name, for it was all over the Four Seasons records, and as a matter of fact, Crewe cowrote this song with Bob Gaudio, and the original version was recorded by Frankie Valli the year before, ’65, after the Four Seasons had started to fade, but it didn’t quite break into the Hot 100, but when rerecorded by the Walker Brothers it went all the way to number one in the U.K., but it did not dominate in the U.S., it went to number 13, which meant it was not ubiquitous and in many markets was barely played at all, because really only a few records get spun religiously and in the days before MTV, before the codification of FM by Lee Abrams, radio was oftentimes regional, kind of like the food, I went to Park City and saw the same damn chains I see in L.A., from Subway to Burger King, and I revel in the fact that I no longer have to go blindly into some faceless emporium to eat the equivalent of shoe leather, which I remember quite vividly outside of Yellowstone Park back in ’74, they called it roast beef but it might as well have been billed Florsheim, but the point is you used to leave home and it was different, and now, statistically, no one leaves at all, they just stay where they are, not being able to afford to go where the jobs are, but the point is it used to be exciting to take a drive and listen to what was being played elsewhere before radio became homogenized and the satellite came along to save us.

And the weird thing is the Walker Brothers are American. But they had to go overseas to make it. Huge stars in the U.K. they became, and we heard their name now and again but we rarely heard their music, but tonight…

The Frankie Valli take is so out of time as to be almost laughable. You’ll hear the intro and know why this didn’t hit in the era of the British Invasion and then Frankie sings the verses like it could be the phone book, back when we had those, and then he belts the chorus in his classic way, albeit a bit reservedly, and it’s the same song but it’s completely different. You’re listening to the Valli version, but you want to know the singer of the Walker Brothers iteration, it’s all dark and mysterious.

The intro is hokey, but then it locks into a Gene Pitney feel and a deep vocal takes over akin to a Righteous Brother….

Loneliness is the cloak you wear

The scourge of life that’s somehow absent from modern art. Remember when songs were about the human condition, when you listened not to be a member of a group, but to bond with the singer in a twosome, a marriage where you felt safe and understood?

Emptiness is the place you’re in
Nothin’ to lose but no more to win

It’s when you’re stuck in neutral that life is worst. When you’re out of the game, when victory or defeat are not in the equation, only stasis.

You listen to the Walker Brothers’ recording and you visualize a whole movie. He’s lost without her, on the edge of despair, he’s got to testify, tell you, but it’s more than that, you can see through the record into the studio, a big room with everybody there at the same time, the rockers and the classicists, the electric instruments and the acoustic, the backup vocalists, the producer in a sweater.

It’s almost like a western. Something one step removed. What used to be. You’re intrigued. Deep inside there’s not only a story, but humanity.

Lonely, without you, baby
Girl, I need you
I can’t go on

The chorus is the hook, but it’s this interlude that makes the track a classic, it slows down and the truth is revealed.

And now you know what music was like fifty years ago. You couldn’t make it at home, you needed professionals in a studio, and they were shooting for the stars, doing their best to create something from heaven, that lasted forever, that would imprint itself upon listeners’ brains and make them buy it so they could hear it again and again, to get that same reflective feeling, from an era when music was totally personal, when melody was more important than the beat, when you sang along to bond yourself to the magic, when radio was a living, breathing thing and you never knew what you’d tune in and hear, when all the hits weren’t made by the same people, when every track was just a bit different, when music’s goal was to impart wisdom while at the same time taking you away, soothing you, helping guide you through life.

And the funny thing is the more they sing about the sun not shining anymore the more your own brain clears, the more optimistic you become.

That’s the power of a hit record.

That’s the power of music.

The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore – Spotify