Presenting Bill Graham

Thrasher on Neil Young News gives a nice capsule review of Robert Greenfield's book, "Bill Graham Presents..."

Do you want to meet one of the inventors of the rock and roll universe? Bill Graham, born Wolfgang Grajonca, had much of the 20th century etched into his bones.

He fled Europe, escaped the Holocaust (his mother was not so lucky), grew up in New York, worked as waiter in the Catskills, hitchhiked across the country, went to the Korean War, earned a Bronze Star, became an actor, (did a scene study class with Marilyn Monroe!), and opened the Fillmore West in San Francisco.

The Greenfield book is a great read. Graham is one of the most fascinating, original self-made American characters to emerge from the Sixties flowering. The book is made up of interviews, the audio-tape must have flowed like a river of beer, or ganja smoke.

Other voices that emerge and inspire: Pete Townsend, Carlos Santana, Jerry Garcia, Keith Richards. Graham was a famous screamer. He could use obscene language to superb effect. He ran a small family operation whether it was one of the Fillmores, Winterland, or a Rolling Stone world tour. An amazing dude. He did it all.

Talk about creative booking, a Graham show might be Lenny Bruce and Frank Zappa. Or Neil Young and Miles Davis. Or Buddy Rich and The Grateful Dead.

The book takes you from the 30's to the 90's. What a long, strange trip.

As I was reading this book I was so happy to have met Bill Graham. I wish my father would have had the chance to meet him too. By the way, there is a great site devoted to the music that Bill Graham promoted. Check out Wolfgang's Vault to stream an amazing collection of rock shows. Simply incredible stuff.

Unexpected Gift

It snowed here yesterday. It was kind of a confounding event. We were just getting used to the idea of Spring. But it's the heartland, and Mother Nature is a real joker.

We used the snow as an opportunity to do some filming on the beach. We are working towards a Black Forest Theater show in May. We have been filming scenes of color and beauty.

It's some kind of theme.

The Lovely Carla and the equally Lovely Sara put on some colorful dresses and I manned the camera. We were trying to capture something of the hushed exquisite grandeur of water, sky, sand, (and snow!) and the feminine form.

The beautiful images in my view-finder can't really be reduced to words.

So it turns out snow is just a prop, or part of our set design.

An unexpected gift.

One of those kind...

We spent a good portion of the day yesterday at my brother's recording studio trying to catch lightening in a bottle.
Or maybe it was trying to invent a butterfly.
Or trying to corral a shooting star.
Or trying to ride a moon beam.

It was one of those kinds of days.

Prrrrrrrrrrrr!

We're listening to Cat Power this morning. She has something. She is a Pussy Cat. Here she is transforming Frank Sinatra's "New York."

Feline Perfection. Meow!

Operator's Manual

If I was tasked to write an Operator's Manual for being a human being, I think my first instruction would be to follow Quentin Crisp's pithy admonition:

"To know who you are - and be it like mad."

I'd also recommend that you should never run to catch a train. Don't worry there will be another.

And if you are looking for the calm center in the storm, you don't really need to venture very far - it is between your ears.

Three Chords and a Blur!

Last Friday night my ugly step-child band, The Telepaths played at Sylvies Lounge. It's one of my favorite bands (probably because I'm in it!), playing at one of our favorite places. The band is still evolving. We do have some nice original songs influenced by everything in the rock and roll universe.

This band is primarily dedicated to three chords and a swagger. Sometimes it works and sometimes not. But it's always an adventure. Anyway the Lovely Carla took some pictures. These are my favorites. It's best to see me as a shadowy blur. Really! What with the goofy hat, and the goofy grin. But man, my Telecaster is quite photogenic! That's the Professor on bass.

Sometimes Satan Comes as a Systems Manager!

Wow. Check out Chris Hedges this morning ("In decaying societies..."). Quite the substantial breakfast.

The Corporate State Vs. Moral Autonomy!

Guess who is winning?!

"The manipulative character is a systems manager. He or she exclusively trained to sustain the corporate structure, which is why our elites are wasting mind-blowing amounts of our money on corporations like Goldman Sachs and AIG. “He makes a cult of action, activity, of so-called efficiency as such which reappears in the advertising image of the active person,” Adorno wrote of this personality type. These manipulative characters, people like Lawrence Summers, Henry Paulson, Robert Rubin, Ben Bernanke, Timothy Geithner, AIG’s Edward Liddy and Goldman Sachs CEO Lloyd Blankfein, along with most of our ruling class, have used corporate money and power to determine the narrow parameters of the debate in our classrooms, on the airwaves and in the halls of Congress while they looted the country." - Chris Hedges

Never Give a Sucker an Even Break

I think Matt Taibbi may be the Hunter S. Thompson of the Post Bubble Years. Maybe without the ether and the poppers and the Wild Turkey, although, who knows, it's likely that Matt has some of his own kinks too.

I mean really Matt and Hunter S. have very little in common except maybe a jaundiced eye for the absurd, and the knack for a good turn of phrase.

Anyway Matt's got a great overview of the "global economic crisis" in Rolling Stone, it's online so you don't really have to buy the magazine, which is a good thing me thinks, because that glitzy piece of celebrity trash seems light years away from the glory days of Jann Wenner's late 60's counter-cultural rag.

One man's counter-cultural marker is another man's urinal. Or something like that.

Taibbi kind of explains the unexplainable and sort of makes it all hilariously understandable. We've been fucking swindled. And the folks who have done the swindling are now threatening to shoot the puppy if we don't shovel more cash down their greedy fucking gullets.

Welcome to the Audacity of Hope!

"These people were never about anything except turning money into money, in order to get more money; valueswise they're on par with crack addicts, or obsessive sexual deviants who burgle homes to steal panties. Yet these are the people in whose hands our entire political future now rests. Good luck with that, America." - Matt Taibbi

Sky

Monday morning. The sky is crying. I understand.

Talk to Angels

The Lovely Carla and I have resolved this morning (the coffee is good) to talk to Angels more. And the Little People too. Or maybe I mean the Village People?!

It's seems to have worked out fine for this guy. Talk about beautiful tone. This supremely sweet man exudes pure, soul-stirring, music. I love the way Carlos plays guitar. We're spinning "Abraxas" on the cd box this morning. SANTANA!

''I truly believe that we're going to be visited in prime time by a landing from the so-called invisible people,'' Santana says. Uh...oye como va? ''The invisible people,'' he explains. ''The extraterrestrials. Pleiadians, Arturians, Andromedans, angels. I've been saying for a long time that we have friends outside our eyeballs and friends inside our eyeballs.'' - C. Santana

Maybe so. If true these other beings probably speak a language sort of like this:

The Awakening

And then one morning, they all woke up and realized that they were hopeless idiots.

The Happy Dichotomy

"Disciplined yet free-wheeling." Now that's something worth aspiring to.

Leap of Ambition

Okay, there's the Universe. And then there's me. I guess I'm basically an infitessimal speck in the super vastness of space.

Some days I'm happy just to survive. Thank you Universe for not completely crushing me underfoot.

Some days I think I want to help fix things and make a better world.

Now that is quite the leap of ambition for an infitessimal speck of flesh and blood.

Who the fuck do I think I am?

Fleecing the Rubes!

If you ever thought that our lovely little economic system was really just a rigged game, rigged by and for those at the top of the pyramid, well, my friend, your time has come.

If you ever thought that the whole insurance game seemed like just another way to fleece the rubes, or an elaborate protection racket, not that different from your local neighborhood mafia organization, well, congratulations! You win the prize! A one-way ticket to Palooka-ville!

The Feared Future Alternate Titles

I sure hope it doesn't come to this, but could all hopes be dashed on the shores of Credit Default Swap Land?

Future Alternate Titles:

"The Audacity of Nope."

"The Audacity of Dope."

"The Audacity of the Mopes."

"The Audacity of the Fallible Pope"

"The Audacity of Too Much Rope."

"The Audacity of the Slippery Slope."

"The Audacity of Julian Cope."

And of course, for the unwashed masses: "The Audacity of Soap!"

Age of the Truth-teller

I do think this is the new age of the truth-teller. The last few days everything I see and hear seems to reinforce this intuition.

First there was the Jon Stewart thing. Then I read an article about Tony (Fuck You) Gilroy, a filmmaker/screenwriter trying to navigate the supremely compromising world of major movie-making.

Then I saw Gilroy's film "Michael Clayton," with it's theme of corporate corruption, and how we are all part of a game where everyone is only in it for themselves. A game of no trust, no truth, except the corrupting luxury of money.

Gilroy shows us that sometimes truth is as awkward, as unwelcome, as jarring, as distasteful, as a naked man ranting in a conference room.

And if you build a society that only values money, you have a society of no values at all.

And then The Lovely Carla bought Antony and the Johnson's new disc, "The Crying Light." It's a superb disc of beauty and truth. Heart-breaking, breath-taking and inspiring.

The truth can do that to you.

The Line

What's that old line?

"I come from a long line of dead people."

Yes.

That will have to do.

Totally Asshole Free!

It's tough times, weird times.

I used to work with some real grade A, number one, USDA choice assholes (note: if you think I'm talking about you, please see disclaimer to the right!).

The money was pretty good. I was a successful front for a bunch of idiots.

I'm happy to say that now I am totally asshole free. I only work with people who I know, trust and respect.

It's probably the most important lesson I've learned over the years. You think you can handle the assholes, that somehow they won't bring you down, that you can make it, defend yourself, survive.

It's not worth the effort. Avoid the assholes at all costs. Take a different job. Take lower pay, become a dog-walker, start your own business, sell your blood, whatever!

I am asshole free. And if I encounter an asshole I call them out and move on. Of course, they are everywhere, you must always be on guard.

Which is OK. Be aware. Be alert at all times. It's the only way to go.

Truth on the Idiot Box

It is supremely entertaining to watch Jon Stewart totally eviscerate Jim Cramer (Mr. Mad Money) on the Daily show.

I give Cramer points for even going on the show, although, I'm sure he's working under the premise that any publicity is good publicity.

Still Cramer ends up looking like an ass-kissing, smoking corpse; an enabler, a snake-oil cheerleader for the greedy bastards on Wall Street.

And Jon Stewart is the dangerously intelligent, smirking, wise-cracking hero! Amazingly Jon Stewart seems to be the only "truth teller" on the idiot box.

Fucking A!

Three sentences

You can't really reduce a human being.

We all seem to be living in a state of luxurious insecurity.

The finality of things is so damn final.