In case you’re wondering…I’ve dropped the pursuit of a publisher. I never truly expected to land a major house first time out of the gate and the rejections have been incredibly kind. As my agent reminds me, they don’t have to say anything at all, but across the board, editors have lauded the writing & voice and dig the story. The sticking point – almost without exception – has been “not a big enough name.” When the list of rock memoir/autobiography authors include Keith Richards, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton and soon to be released Pete Townshend…I get it!! The very thing that made my memoir unique and initially interested my agent & many publishers-that I’d written something different and not a typical sex, drugs & rnr tale – actually worked against me (“What do you mean he slept with Madonna and he doesn’t give all the details??!!”) as no one was sure exactly how & who to market the book to.

Ah marketing!! Something I know a bit about. So as I stated a few months back – no reason at all not to self-publish. Especially with the advent of so much technology that would make it all possible. What that meant though was working to finish the editing & polish the manuscript to a final draft – something I’d be happy with & proud to release to the world. A process that in the “old days” would happen with the support of a publisher’s advance.

A guy’s gotta eat!!

Which is why the project has been delayed much longer than I’d hoped. And also the reason why the “Jack On The Road” project – visiting Facebook friends across the planet has been shelved for the time being. The past nine months has been all about surviving and not left much unfettered brain space for writing. The process has been made a bit more complex by the fact I have no set address at the moment having packed my “stuff” into storage & given up my rental in Healdsburg last March. No complaints as this is the life I’ve chosen. Everything in life comes with a cost and choosing a writer’s life certainly had no guarantee of success or keeping a roof over my head. “I knew the job was dangerous when I took it.”

And so this Thanksgiving, I am most grateful for my sister, Joan, and brother-in-law, Gary, my dear friends, Doug & Susan, in Healdsburg and John & LaJuana in Kennebunk who have so generously and without hesitation flung open their homes, guest houses, spare rooms, refrigerators and wine cellars to me as I continue to pursue my dream. Where I’d be right now without them I’d rather not imagine. But I am undeterred and intend to share the book soon.

The new year looms with possibilities. Another chapter comes to an end while another begins. Wishing you all the best of health, happiness and prosperity. And hoping your holidays are spent in the company of those you love.

Be well & Hug ‘em while you can.

But now the concept has taken a different shape, mainly due to spending more time on Facebook and watching what happens and the effect on our lives of the whole Social Network thing is having.

Of course, there’s a bunch of debate over whether or not relationships on the net are “real” or some, as Jaron Lanier, the virtual reality pioneer believes, devalued interaction cheapening true human relationships.

I’m not too interested in arguing either way. It is what it is and has become an integral part of modern life. What I am interested in though is taking my relationship with my Facebook “friends” and Twitter followers out of the virtual and into the real.

I have a bit over 1700 Facebook friends. More than some and fewer than others. The number’s not important because I’m betting the makeup of that total is pretty much the same for everyone. Part of the total is actual friends, people you know and maybe even interact with on a regular basis in the real world. Others are family members, some close, others extended beyond ever having met them. Then there are friends of friends and friends of their friends, those who get pulled into your orbit by your posts & updates, commenting on your food pics or shared videos or political links. And in my case, I have fans of my time in Dire Straits whose memories are far better than mine.

What I’ve found fascinating is over time I’ve begun to have not exactly friendships but on-going dialogues with people I have never met, people who have become involved in my on-line life and because I do share much of what happens in my world on a daily basis, they’ve become part of my life. I look forward to their comments and their opinions. I’ve come to expect them to be there and honestly become concerned when they’re “no shows” for a day or two.

So I began to wonder what it would be like to actually meet some of these people. Folks who comment on my food pics, “Hey, you can come cook for me any time!” or after seeing a post of me playing guitar somewhere declare “Come sit in with my band!”

And there are friends who I follow, a host of interesting thinkers I’ve come to enjoy and look forward to their posts. The writer, Mikal Gilmore, Dangerous Minds blogger & musician, Marc Campbell, photgrapher/writer Jennifer Fields-Summer, HuffPost writer & rock n roller, Binky Philips, just to name a few. But I’ve never met them. At times, we converse in threads as if we were sitting at a bar chewing the fat and I have the sense we’d be “real” friends given the chance to hang.

And in some cases, we have traded private messages and phone calls and made plans to get together some time soon.

Which is what I want to do. Not only to satisfy my curiosity – which is boundless when it comes to people – but because I’ve realized the best times in my life, the moments I am happiest and most satisfied are the times I’ve spent gathered with family and friends, eating, playing, talking, sharing ideas and just being in each others company.

Over the course of the past few years I have lost several close friends, spent anxiety-ridden months as my sister and brother-in-law have been diagnosed, battled and thankfully beaten cancer & helplessly watched my father slowly disappear into the nightmare living hell of Alzheimer’s.

I’m not alone. Life has a million ways with fucking with us all. As if the lesson of grasping every second like it’s our last needs to be continually repeated until we get it.

Life if short. Tomorrow is not a given.

Yet we talk and dream and make plans and say we’ll get together and actually believe the words that come out of our mouths but it so rarely happens.

The older I get, the more I’ve come to embrace one singular thought.

Live Life Now. Not later.

Simple, obvious idea that is so very hard to live.

And when I was a kid, dreaming of rock n roll stardom, the life I wanted to live was being surrounded by interesting people, sharing ideas, art and la la lalala la living for today. That was what rock n roll was going to give me.

My list of friends contain artists, musicians, writers, housewives, salesmen, corporate executives, right-wingers, radical liberals, famous names, unknowns, professional chefs and amateur cooks with equal passion for the culinary arts, winemakers and wine drinkers, doctors, lawyers, financial wizards and broke-ass students.

Every one with a story.

And I’m thinking the best way to hear these tales is to get face to face and share them with you via blogs, videos, streaming events, pix as I travel around meeting with some of the most interesting people I know.

Now. Not later.

Jack On The Road. A movable salon of friends, family, music, ideas, food & drink….what a rock n roll life looks like at 56 years old.

Who’s in?

And it’s really infuriating.

Listening to the major labels execs who spoke at the conference was like being held captive in room full of bloated Wall Street fat cats. When the moderator asked for questions from the audience at the end of the interview with Warners CEO, Lyor Cohen (yep insert all puns and jokes about the irony of this criminal having the name “Liar” here), I nearly bit my tongue off to refrain from screaming out, “How the fuck far from the real world do you live?”

Another panel that included U2 manager, Paul McGuinness and REM’s Mike Mills proclaimed the 80’s as “the Golden Age” of the record business. With totally straight faces. Yes, that might have been the golden age for the labels and the corporate geeks but I think most of us – the artists and the music LOVERS – would beg to differ and point to the 60’s & early 70’s as the true Golden Age of Rock Music and artistic achievement.

To these people, artistic achievement is only measured in units sold on a grand scale. Even Mike Mills came off as an out-of-touch fat cat bemoaning the shift in the industry power technology is creating. I bet he’d be singing a very different tune if he were trying to get a record deal at a major right now. Are you kidding me? No label would touch REM today.

There’s no real sense in bitching. Serious waste of time, energy and breath. It’s like complaining about the NBA or NFL. It is what it is, these are the rules of the game – you either accept them so you can play the game – which is their game or go find another game to play.

And if you love to ball – you will. Maybe it’s playing in Canada or Europe and the money isn’t the same and the exposure/fame is nowhere near as great…but you get to do what you love.

Artists now have an alternative that really has not existed until now. If you want to be a pop star, then by all means go play the major label game because it’s the only one in town. But if you want to create a career that can provide you with a decent, maybe even more than comfortable living and possible pave the way to a label, the tools are at your fingertips.

The internet now allows artists of all forms the opportunity to make their work available to the world via the internet. Making a living won’t be easy but it’s possible and you’ll be doing all the work the majors are asking you to do before they even glance in your direction….so why fight it or wait a minute longer?

The world is waiting for you and your art. Let them have it and begin to reap the rewards of your passion. Build your website, acquire and grow your fanbase, engage them in not just the conversation but your creative process and you may find they not only will become your marketing communications team but may fund your projects.

Stranger things happen.

The latter question first. The book has been in the black hole of publishing houses for the past nine months. The book publishing world is in the same turmoil the record business finds itself these days. The old guard getting smacked in the face with the frigid aluminum bat of digital reality and getting beat to the punch by Amazon, iTunes and other on-line ebook “publishers.”

Yes, I’ve thought about self-publishing but had not gotten serious about it (until recently) because the initial reaction to the manuscript was so positive. It really seemed like I was going to beat the overwhelming odds and get a deal quickly. Even a small advance would keep me afloat until the final editing was done.

But things have changed a great deal in the past six months – both for me personally and in the world of digital publishing. So I’ve been in an info deep dive into how to get that done. So stay tuned.

The former question is a bit more complicated to answer.

At the moment, I’m sitting in my sister’s kitchen in Middletown, CT. I’ve given up my rental house in Healdsburg, CA, packed my ever-surprising amount of worldly possession into storage, spent a week hanging in H’brg crashing in the guest house of my very generous friends, Doug & Susan. I’m heading to Boston for a music business/new technology conference called “rethink music.” Then I’m going to take my longtime friend, John – a great bass player, former NYC roommate & bandmate – and his wonderful wife, LaJuana, up on their offer to hang at their home in Maine for a bit.

Time to reconfigure the future. Which is unwritten yet.

When I walked away from my position as a marketing executive – vice president of advertising at Guitar Center, the musical instrument retail behemoth – to chase another dream, I didn’t step off the cliff blindly. I knew the risks and was all too well aware that some dreams, no matter how hard you chase them, how much you believe in them, simply may not come true. It’s as much about determination and perseverance as so many other things.

Luck. Timing. Who You Know. Who You Blow.

I knew that getting a book published was a high risk pursuit, as far-fetched as becoming a rock star. I mean, the numbers of people hustling to get a book deal are right up there with the staggering amount of bands and singer/songwriters seeking a record deal. Probably more.

But you don’t start chasing a dream thinking about the odds against you. There is no place for doubt. That’s a set-up for failure. Doomed from the start. You must believe in the dream. And yourself.

Whicht doesn’t mean delusional thinking – or a big dose of magical thinking – plays no part. I honestly thought when I started writing the book that I’d be done in six or seven months. The initial reaction to my writing and story – from people I respected and “in the biz” – was that strong. But no one – least of all a first time author – gets a book of any merit done in six months. A couple of years is far more realistic. Of course, I didn’t really find that out until those first six months disappeared in a haze of high octane caffeine and  eyeball searing computer screen stare-downs.

It took me close to two years to complete the first draft of the manuscript. Another six months editing and rewriting the first 75 pages as part of the proposal. Then another couple of months of re-editing after the first round of publisher feedback. A polite term for rejections. And they were very polite. My agent and fellow writers explained that any rejection that contained more than a “we pass” was a good thing. And my rejections have all contained praise for the writing and “voice.” Which is why you don’t give up. Those little glimpses of the gold ring just hanging there so close yet still so far away…which fuels the thinking…next pass, I’ll grab it. Only takes one to say “yes.”

So here I am, rapidly approaching the fifth year anniversary of leaving the corporate world. I long ago burned through whatever safety net I’d had strung up to break my fall. The marketing consulting work I was doing – there was an almost endless number coming my way allowing me to pick and choose, working when I needed and wanted, leaving me time to write – dried up in the Great Crash and with it any real revenue stream that kept the net strung tight below me.

Just call me Icarus. Flying to reach the sun and falling into a sea of debt!

The only difference is I’ve learned to become a really good swimmer.

And this is not to say the past five years have been a horrible, anxiety-ridden slog. If you’ve followed my adventures on this website or Facebook, you know my life has been anything but dull. Living in Baja, surfing in the mornings, writing throughout the rest of the day, moving to Sonoma County and becoming part of an amazing group of culinary artists, winemakers, cocktail designers all in a wonderful small town. Trips to Italy to play gigs in front of thousands of fans and time spent cooking and helping family members recover from illnesses.

Which has lead me to thinking about the next chapter of the adventure and how you all play a role.

next: Eat. Play. Leave. Getting Face to Face with my Facebook friends and making “Jack On The Rocks…On The Road” a reality.

Is it time to self-publish??!!

Not that this is news for musicians. Nothing has really been the same since digital technology arrived, the internet appeared and file sharing became a way of life for an entire generation. Maybe 2 or 3 generations now. The record labels – those bloated, myopic dinosaurs – in equal parts arrogance and greed, decided that rather than embrace the new technology and find a way to make it work for them – which means continue to make the ungodly sums of money they were used to – actually had the temerity to believe they could stop it.

Fuckwits.

Fear and intimidation is a great way to build a business relationship. Guess they figured those tactics had worked on their artists for decades so why not try it on the customers. While they were busy pointing fingers and crying about being robbed by the technology, the world moved on without them. Good riddance. I, for one, do not weep or mourn their ignominious fall. Not that they have completely vanished from this earth. Yet.

They will most likely survive and continue to do what they do best. Crank out an endless array of manufactured pop tarts & American Idols.

Same as it ever was.

What so many musicians pine for – the golden age of rock in the 60′s & early 70′s- when it seemed bands had unfettered creative freedom – was an anomaly in the history of the business. For a brief moment, the lunatics ran the asylum because the industry had no idea what hit it. The labels were busy cranking out the scrubbed up, shiny, happy hit makers and foisting the same disposable crap on the public it always has.

Musicians who bemoan the style-over-substance vacuity and borderline porn marketing of mega-stars like Lady Gaga or Katy Perry or Myley Cyrus (and whatever the fuck a Justin Beiber is) as some recent sign the apocalypse is nigh seem to have forgotten their history. PussyCat Dolls anyone? Spice Girls? Madonna, for fuck sake? This is nothing new. And the industry delivers what the audience wants. which does not mean it’s the only audience that exists. More on that in upcoming blogs.

The labels have never been anything more than controlling parents, with exacting standards for their children. Holding onto the purse strings and doling out the money if the kids toe the line. Look like this. Sound like that. We’ll pay for med school or a law degree. But no child of mine is going to a liberal arts college. Don’t forget the Beatles were rejected by several labels in the UK before signing their deal. Capitol Records in the US turned them down initially as well. They didn’t look or sound anything like what the parents wanted.

Things have changed. Mom & Dad are no longer in control. And it’s the best thing that could have happened to musicians. The vice grip on an artist’s career the labels once held has been broken. Musicians now have more tools at their disposal than ever to create, promote and distribute their art. As an artist, you are truly free to create without restrictions. No parents to please or cow-tow to. Which also means, there’s no one to blame but yourself if you fail.

Scary, huh?

So now what? Getting your head around the new tools and responsibilities that have now landed squarely in your lap is only part of the job.

The first step is not just accepting, but embracing the idea that this is a business. The business of selling a product – your art. And the rules of business apply. You need a product. You need to find a market for your product. Build awareness that your product exists. Create demand. Deliver the product you’ve promised. Help spread word of mouth.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

But it’s one thing to acknowledge you’re in the business of selling – and knowing about the concept of creating demand, building a fanbase but quite another to understand how to do it…even with all the tools at your fingertips. Having a database filled with email addresses and a Topspin or Bandcamp account doesn’t mean you’ll be successful finding the audience for your music any more than owning a pro-tools rig guarantees ending up with a hit single.

The key to success in the new world order is studying history and realizing one simple truth.

The more things change – the more they stay the same.

Next blog: Develop a Marketing Mind or Die a Slow Painful Death.

@Elliott – thanks for inviting me to join the discussion here. Interesting & necessary topic given the state of the musician’s world these days.

By way of introduction for those here who I don’t know or may not know me – I’m a guitarist, writer & marketing pro. I’m proud to say Elliott was my teacher & mentor in NYC – I carry his huge influence on my approach to playing and, of equal import, attitude when stepping on stage to this day. The world would never have seen the madly grinning, spinning dancing barefoot “other guitar player” in Dire Straits had it not been for Mr R. After witnessing my first set at a club gig in Manhattan in my early days there, Elliott draped his arm around my shoulder and asked me “Are you having fun?” My answer was a mumbled “Yeah, of course.” To which he said “Well, no one can tell!” He proceeded to explain that the people in this bar came here to be entertained, to see someone do what they could not, to give them a glimpse of a dream they all wanted to live but never would. In the next set, Elz sat in with the band and proceeded to give the place the “Elliott Randall Experience” – he smiled, he held eye contact, he walked through the crowd, played slide with someone’s beer bottle (on MY guitar!) and when he walked off the place went nuts. He came over and whispered in my ear, “What do you think these people will remember about coming to this joint tonight? More to the point…who?”

I NEVER forgot that lesson.

And it brings me to my thoughts about this thread. I have spent an equal amount of years as a professional musician as I have as a marketing cat. And aside from Elz lesson, there’s one thing I wish I’d learned at a much earlier age and what I’ve found to be the difference between those who succeed and those who fail is the acceptance of one basic fact; 

This is a business. 

And until you not only accept, but embrace, all that truly means, success – in terms of making a living at playing music – I believe will elude you.

My belief is that change – and deciding on a course of action that will lead to success – comes from confronting the real issue at hand. In this case, what’s required is a serious attitude adjustment for many musicians.

While not a rude awakening for some, the idea that even at the most basic level of playing a live club gig, that what we are doing is selling a product seems to upset quite a few musicians. And on one hand it’s an easy thing to say. Yeah, yeah, of course, I know I’m selling myself. Yep, just like I told Elliott, I was absolutely having fun playing that gig.

But truly understanding what selling means and what it leads to is a bit more involved. We are actually selling the experience of our art – which ultimately translates to the “brand” experience. Musicians would be better off reading Reis & Trout on positioning & advertising than bothering with some weighty tome on The Business of Music. Without a deep understanding of your brand and how to create demand for your product, you’ll never get to the fine print on the publishing contracts.

When you begin to see things through this business prism – and not the myopic view of entitlement – “I’m an artist and should be paid because I’m an artist” or “I should be paid because I showed up and played for you” – the path to success becomes much clearer.

For ex – I’m a club owner, I’m in business to make money. Having music is more often than not, an after-thought when it comes to the design of the room or investment I’ve made in the stage & equipment. I’m hoping that your music will attract a crowd that buys what I sell which is alcohol & maybe food. Your fee is another overhead cost that puts me in the red before I open the door. So if you can’t bring in enough of a crowd to drink & eat to cover that cost PLUS the profit I’d make with a jukebox, why do I need you?

Also – as a customer – I don’t care if you’re playing in the corner of a bar or club I wandered into. Seriously. And I’m a passionate music lover. Unless you’re giving me an experience I want or need, I’m not buying it and more than likely walking out – which is exactly what the club owner is dreading. 

Building demand for a product is impossible until you know exactly what you’re selling. Because in the first place unless you can communicate what I’m getting, you can’t sell it to me. What is the experience of your brand? And once you know what it is, can you deliver on that promise?

Say you’re a blues band or 80′s cover band…pick your genre – all original brazilian jazz – whatever. Unless you’re giving me – the audience – the club owner an experience we cannot get elsewhere or by some other means…why would I want to listen & watch. If your blues band does nothing more than regurgitate some covers, as a club owner or a fan, why wouldn’t I just put my Chess collection on the stereo system? At least I can control the volume.

Now – if your band brings something – and it can be any number of things – to the party, whether it’s the sheer intensity of the guitarist’s brilliant playing (think Stevie Ray), a stage show, a vocalist that is the real deal, surprising kick ass arrangements or blues versions of hip-hop tunes – SOMETHING that’s going to give me an experience I can’t forget, you’re on the way to being able to communicate a brand promise and gain a fan base who will buy your product.

And, make no mistake about it, it’s your job to create that demand. Talk all you want about supporting the arts and how much time you spent studying & practicing & how much your gear costs you. Not my problem as a club owner. Those are the investment costs of YOUR craft and only one part of the investment needed to launch this business – your band/brand. Asking a club owner to underwrite your business is no different than going to the bank for a loan. And they get paid back with interest.

If your band can’t draw enough of a crowd and give the people an experience that keeps them drinking & eating or willing to pay to listen to your art, you haven’t done your share of the heavy lifting in the artist/club owner partnership. You think your band is that good? Then YOU need to put your money where your mouth is. Take the door. That’s right. If you’ve done the work of building a fan base that has the burning desire for your brand experience, you should be able to charge a cover and make money. What will your fans pay to see you? $10, $5, $2? A free drink? You don’t have 50 people in your town willing to come out and pay $10 to see you? 100 to pay $5?? You’re doing something wrong. Asking a club owner to take a risk you’re not willing to take is foolish and bad business. What your fan base is will pay to experience your brand is a very real indication of how healthy your business/brand actually is.

There are more tools than ever at the fingertips of musicians to control their own careers. I have been closely involved with Topspin – a web-based marketing & distribution tool – for the past two years and have seen numerous examples of artists who have become successful in terms of making a comfortable living from their art by building & growing a fan base and marketing directly to that base without any support or involvement of any kind by a record label. It’s not easy nor does it happen overnight but it can & does happen.

But first things first – this is about marketing, building demand for a product and approaching your career with a business mind. You have to know what you’re selling. You must be able to answer the question who & what you are and what the experience you are promising your fans. Then the job of finding consumers for that experience, getting their attention, communicating directly with them, enticing & involving them in expanding the buzz, finding other bands who can share fan-bases with in a “if you dig them, you’ll love us” strategy of building your audience. You do that groundwork and you’ll have no problem filling clubs and getting the money you feel you deserve. And have club owners begging you to return.

Can’t believe I’m saying it but study the business model of The Grateful Dead. Seriously – you may not be a fan of their music – I am certainly not…but theirs is the blueprint for success in the direct-to-fan world we now find ourselves.

It is your job to establish your brand, advertise, market and build demand by talking direct to your existing and potential audience. And the tools are at your disposal more so than ever before.

This is the new world order. 

Disagree? Cool, I’ll take some fries with that burger.

Here’s the deal. I’ve never been much of a car guy. I like them but I’m just not a gear head. For me, cars are transportation. Some are faster than others. Some are nicer looking than others. They all cost way too much and are a pain in the ass to maintain. Then there’s the whole insurance scam part of the equation.

I was quite happy living in Manhattan where the only car I needed was yellow and had a light on top.

If you live in California, a car is a must. It’s a mandate. Like belonging to a health club. Otherwise they might revoke your California visa and deport you. So I have a car. Not one I love or even like that much. I did fall into the SoCal car as status thing and for awhile was driving a Dodge Magnum wagon. Of course, it wasn’t enough to have one of the first black ones on the road when the model came out so I had a guy who did custom work for NBA ballers and hip/hop dudes do the car. Dropped on 22″ custom rims, blacked out windows, the badges and door trim all stripped. An insane stereo system. Thing was a total bad-ass. Looked like the Batmobile. People pulled up beside me and gave me the thumbs up. Kevin Garnett stopped and had his son jump out and check the rims to see what brand they were. My girls actually wanted me to drive them to school in the morning.

I sold the Batmobile when I moved to Baja and bought a used Ford Escape 4×4. About as nondescript automobile & joyless a driving experience as you can get.

Actually, I hate driving. No, wait. I like driving. Love it, at times. Some of my best thinking happens behind the wheel. Driving clears my head out, great alone time to space out and think without distractions. I drove the length of Baja alone – not the smartest thing I’ve ever done – and I had the road practically to myself for  the entire 1700 mile journey. Fantastic way to make the transition from living in San Jose del Cabo to being back in the States.

But here in Cali, that wide open road only happens on the freeways at 4 am on a Sunday morning.

The rest of the time, the roads are filled with complete assholes. Self-absorbed, text messaging, phone blathering, mascara applying, riding my ass while I’m doing 80 SUV owning, 55 mph left hand lane cruising, speed up gap closing when I’m signaling a lane change, side-by-side locked on the speed limit lane blocking idiots who have no business being behind the wheel of car. These are the same dick-heads who can’t operate a shopping cart in a supermarket without sitting in the middle of the aisle blocking traffic while they stand staring at a wall of cereals.

So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m buying a paintball gun and instituting a color code of offenses.

You drift into my lane doing 75 because your texting.

BLAM!!

A nice big blue splotch on your door panel.

Putting on your face while in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic?

BLAM!!

You get an orange blast.

Left hand lane cruising ?

BLAM!!

Shit-head brown for you!

Oh man, it would feel so good!!

And now every other driver on the road knows what you’re up to in advance. Like a visible early warning system.

Like a Scarlet Letter…only I could care less if you’re out screwing around outside your marriage. Your driving record is far more important to me as it actually effects my life.

The insurance companies will love this because they can raise rates based on a very visible color coding & offense count. And I want my cut of the increased profits.

Come on now, be honest. You know you want a fully loaded, semi-auto, road rage revenge spewing weapon of your own…unless of course, you’re reading this while your driving.

In which case, BLAM BLAM BLAM!!

It wasn’t that this show was new to us. We’d seen all the episodes. Multiple times. So many in fact, we could recite the dialogue verbatim for most of them. The idea, the hope , was that there was one we hadn’t seen. That somehow we’d missed an episode. That tonight might the night we find the great lost Odd Couple episode.

But every evening without fail, we’d discover much to our dismay that “oh fuck, this is the one where Felix falls asleep on the subway and they steal his shoes…” or “Murray the Cop gets kicked out of his house and moves in…” or “Oscar gets the Pigeon Sisters over for a double date…”

Nothing new. But believe me it was the only thing worth watching on television aside from Saturday Night Live.

The news? Never. Not in those days. I didn’t need to be reminded how bad things were by a bunch of talking heads on television. I lived in NYC before it turned into Disneyland. All I had to do was walk out my Hell’s Kitchen apt door to see it all first hand. And truly, the only Talking Heads & Television I was interested in were playing at CBGB’s.

That was news I could use.

Being “informed” of some bus full of kids going off a bridge in Kentucky. Or a flood in India. Or a gunmen letting loose with an assault rifle on a busy McDonald’s in Scotland?

I decided I wanted none of that in my head. Not that I didn’t feel terrible about the tragedies befalling these unfortunate people. Quite the opposite. It made me despair for humanity to such a great degree and fed my already depressive nature so much that I just wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

So I turned it off. Just cut the news feeds that existed in those days out of my life. Never read the paper. Other than glancing at headlines. Got most of my current events from the Weekend Update segment on SNL. Never, ever listened to the radio. In all the years I ran advertising for Guitar Center and wrote those “classic” radio ads myself, I never listened to the radio. Much to the consternation of my boss.

It made zero difference to what I was doing. None. The added information was a distraction and just clogged my brain, totally fucking with my focus.

Over the past couple of years, because my world, like so many of ours, has become centralized around the computer – for work, entertainment and social networking, and the news has crept back onto my windshield.

I’ve gotten outraged and angered about “issues,” posted my thoughts and ended up pulled into political debates that go absolutely nowhere. My child-of-the-60‘s-we-can-change-the-world-again radical bent got me into lively exchanges, threads that went on for days.

All for nothing.

I don’t change my beliefs. The people I debate with do not change theirs. We end up “agreeing to disagree” and go about our business.

A waste of fucking time. I now choose to get my brain exercise and further hone my forensic skills elsewhere.

And it’s how I view the political landscape at the moment. I voted for the current President. I hoped, not just for change, but payback. Serious Ain’t Payback A Bitch Payback. For all the crimes and blatant disregard for my rights, my well-being and my family’s future. For turning us into an emerging Third World nation.

But I guess vengeance is not mine, or my elected officials it seems now, to hand out.

In looking back, through all the various administrations I have lived through – and there are eleven of them – Democrats & Republicans – I realized one thing. Whether I voted or not, whether my “side” won, controlled the Senate & House or not – very little went the way I wanted or hoped or needed it to go. Laws were made, bills were passed in a land far away beyond my eyes and done within a system that was nothing like what I was taught or told.

And the effect on my life? What I decided to do, dreams I chased, the meals I cooked for my family, the jobs I had?

Zero.

It’s all beyond my control. Beyond my influence. And now, once again, beyond my concern.

I’ve now decided to listen to my own voice. I have tried to teach one lesson to the kids who have worked for me over the years, who railed against the “unfairness” & “callous cruelty” of the corporate system they had become part of since entering the work force.

This is like playing in the NFL. These are the rules of the game. You want to play pro football? This is how the game is played. Accept it or find another game. You want to fight to change it? Good luck and better bring some muscle and a shit ton of money. In the meantime, take a look at who signs your paycheck and make your peace with the devil.

For the time being, I choose to live in the Untied States. My experience and my reality is the system is beyond my influence. I enjoy the paychecks I have gotten and the lifestyle I’ve lived here, regardless of who was in the White House. I have decided to no longer play the game as I’d rather just watch the wheels go ‘round. The fact that I’m not a captain of industry or part of the billionaire boy’s club or the hollywood elite is my choice.

Nothing I do will change the fact this country was bought and sold ages ago. That a very tiny percentage of the population controls the vast majority of the wealth and that imbalance will only get worse.

Why?

Change, for individuals or systems, comes in two ways. One is through a lot of hard work and a dedicated effort built on the realization a change is needed and desired.

Do you think the folks who have that bank & power believe there’s any reason to change anything other than for their continued benefit?

The other path to change is through trauma. Some event that brings on a revelation that change is not only needed in one’s life/system but absolutely necessary for survival. A near-death car accident or overdose. Obviously something more traumatic than an economic melt-down and depression re-branded as a severe recession.

Like a revolution.

But you can count me out.

This one’s been a long time coming. I met Curly Smith, drummer for Boston, Jo Jo Gunne and a million sessions with rock n roll greats while I was living in Baja. He was also the drummer on one of my fave albums. A project called “Overnight Angels” a band fronted by Ian Hunter and had Earl Slick, absolutely one of my fave players, on guitar. Curly was in town playing a charity gig with my old friend, Kenny Lee Lewis, guitarist for Steve Miller. Kenny had recruited some of his “Hang Dynasty” crew – the house band at the China Club in LA. Jeff “Skunk” Baxter from Steely Dan & The Doobie Brothers, Billy Burnette from Fleetwood Mac who were joined by the renowned keyboardist, Brian Auger, along with James Jamerson singer from Survivor and John Sykes, bassist in Boston. Kenny invited me to sit in on a tune during soundcheck which ended up with me joining the band for the entire show.

The set list featured the hits from Steve, Fleetwood, The Doobies and Steely Dan. The highlight for me was playing “Reelin In The Years” and trading licks with Skunk. And I have to admit, I had a ball playing and singing harmonies on “Eye of the Tiger.”

After the set Curly invited me to join a project he was putting together to do corporate & casino gigs. The idea was to assemble a band of former members of some of the great bands of the 70‘s & 80‘s. He had already gotten Billy Burnette and Jimmy Crespo, who was Joe Perry’s replacement in Aerosmith during the Tyler/Perry feuding years. I’d met Jimmy in NYC in 1976 when I was working on 48th St. He walked into the shop to try out a Roland Chorus Ensemble effects box and his playing stunned me. He was one of the best guitarists I’d ever heard and he was just fucking around! Gary Moon, bassist & singer with Night Ranger joined as did Steve Augeri, who more than filled the shoes left vacant by Steve Perry’s departure in Journey.

It’s been a long time in the making with a few changes along the way but the band finally got together and played a showcase gig at Harrah’s Lake Tahoe Casino.

Hit Men All Stars is like one big kick-ass jukebox packed with platinum hits played by players who really can. I had more fun than should be legally allowed by law.

Should have some pix of the gig soon. Maybe even a video of the live set!!