Let it Break

My friend Raf, who I consider one of the wisest women in my life said, “Look at it this way, when it’s time to let go of one friend, you make room for a new friend.”   My luck has changed, for if I hadn’t let go of an old friend I wouldn’t have opened a chasm that deepened horribly neglected friendships.  Rightfully, this thing had to break. I readily opened my heart to make room for new friendships.  Surprisingly there they were, ready to, well, be friends. And I got a job.  If you know me, employment has been a rough road I have traversed for a solid two years.  When you are in your 50s and you find yourself behind a hostess booth at a seafood restaurant something has gone desperately wrong. I now book The Delancey nightclub on Wednesday and Thursday nights.  My shows start in February, the very first one features Joseph Arthur (an old friend) and Leona Naess (possibly a new friend). 

This job sought me out. I was in the right place at the right time. The owners approached me when they figured out that this person sitting in a freezing doorway had a legacy as a successful A&R executive.  At first I thought it was horrible that I was forced to sacrifice this particular friendship, but it wasn’t my decision.  This was a choice made because someone did not want to play in the same sandbox. Instead they thought the way to have fun was through slanderous, bad behavior.  This behavior isn't pretty at my age.  I can no longer, "he said, she said..." I've done it (millions of times), but now I don’t.  Pour the poison and drink it.  I've drank the kool-aid, and it hurts. The other disappointment is I hate playing alone, and I wanted to do this job together.  My mother tells me I always had to have a friend around.  At four years old I went looking for community.  While working for The Delancey I want supportive people, nutty people and especially people with ideas to play with.  Georgie, one of the owners, is someone I am proud to call my partner.  A larger then life personality, a person brimming with ideas, a music fanatic, a man who respects and supports me, and a man who is not threatened by the ideas of others.  A man who when he’s sad listens to The Bay City Rollers.  Right, right, right on! I am in a place that is beyond my wildest dreams.  Right now.  Today.  Living present.  “Be present,” that is the motto my friend Ellen whispered into my ear at the very moment the first notes of “Lust for Life” tore through The United Palace Theatre.  Both her words and that song have stayed at the forefront of my mind.  I’m lucky, even when I refuse to see it.  I am.

Booking The Delancey is a learning curve for me.  I’ve never produced live music.  I have found artists, made records, helped market them and the stuff that we used to do when major labels and A&R people existed.  Whoa, this time around I opened the door and the wildest west greeted me. However, when I opened that door I knew Art is going to boom in 2017.  We are about to experience some of the best of what our new and old artists can offer. The music, visual art, film, television, social media, technology, science, all the artistic communities across nations are in gear to astound us.  In gear, groovy, a revolution we have needed for decades.  I should kneel everyday in honor of what we have and what is coming.  Having a very small place in this playground is an honor. If this new president guy blows us all up I want to be in the basement of the Delancey with Sam in the DJ booth, surrounded Charley Roth, Jesse Malin, Miss Cid, Miss Kitty, Gary Harris, Michael Alago, Asif Ahmed, Juli, Stevie Nick’s impersonators (for color), and a whole bunch of folks who inspire me everyday.  This list is far too long to write down, but you know who you are (and a lot of you get pissed off when I mention you in my blog).

Many of you dear readers know what it’s like to piece your lives back together.  First something breaks. Then we get to work fixing it.  I see mental, emotional and real toolboxes everywhere.  We are not building objects that hurt humanity, frankly we’ve seen too much, too readily, too easily and we’ve said, “ouch, this hurts,” far too often.  We are re-building ourselves and repairing our community.  Stop for one moment and look around.  It’s all happening.  If it isn’t, break something. 

You don’t have to break a relationship.  Break your nail.  You may realize you don’t need to get them “done” every week and that 90 minutes could be spent tutoring a kid who doesn’t speak English.  Break a guitar string and pick up a drumstick.  Damn, you didn’t know you had that in you, right?  Break an agreement.  There’s a better one out there for you.  Break a bad habit, suddenly you might start a blog, or become Patti Smith’s best friend.  If by chance you do break a heart, well, maybe you’ll realize you needed some time to your self.  I broke my knee, kind of, and all of a sudden I had time to find a new job.  That was pretty weird.  Hobbling around in a brace led to sitting at home behind my desk booking cool shows.  I hope you’ll come to some of them.  Maybe one of those shows will rock your world, make you laugh, get really drunk and find a new person to love, or just have some great sex. 

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.  Things change when they’re supposed to.  I did find out that when I broke a few things; a heart, an old friendship, my knee, my desperation, (and hopefully my penchant to write run on sentences), that all these fabulous people and opportunities appeared.  The Damned tells us to “Smash it up.”  They are onto something.

Dedicated to Ellen Marino who daily reaffirms my lust for life.

Sharing a cigarette and some feelings with Iggy Pop

Iggy Pop bummed a cigarette off of me at a Marianne Faithful show.  That silly Marlboro Light made me feel special.  A couple of years later in L.A., I finished swimming my morning laps.  On emerging from the pool there was Iggy Pop sprawled out on a lounge chair soaking up the sun.   After all, he is a lizard.  I quickly wrapped a towel around my hips, and approached him. “Excuse me Mr. Pop?”  We had a conversation about the lyrics to “Gimme Shelter.”  Monster Magnet was recording the song for a charity record.  The night before, Dave Wyndorf swore there were sounds not words in parts of the song.  Dave was flummoxed and asked me to get the lyrics for him.  That very next morning the rock gods presented me with a Speedo wearing solution specifically designed to address our dilemma. Mr. Pop conceded, “He’s right, there aren’t real words in a lot of that song.  If I can’t find words to sing what I feel I don’t use words I just sing whatever comes out.  Whatever I feel.  Tell Dave he can sing whatever he wants. But he has to feel it.” 

I haven’t had any conversations about the new Iggy Pop record Post Pop Depression.  I am surprised, given my past working relationship with Josh Homme who produced it, plays on it and is now touring with Iggy, but then again I’m not.  I don’t think most of my friends have actually listened to it.   The story might be enough- Josh & Iggy went to the desert...blah, blah, blah.  When Bowie produced Iggy’s records we listened to them, but that was before we could spend all our free time streaming on Netflix or Hulu or On Demand.  And look, I realize that by pointing one finger at you three are pointing back at me.  What the non-conversation about Post Pop Depression makes me think is that maybe all this hullaballoo about Spotify, Apple and Tidal killing music is nonsense because teenagers don’t pay for music and Gen X no longer listens to it.   Go listen to the record.  Like it or hate it, go feel Iggy.  The apocalypse, political, LGBT, trying to get by comedic guy/gal, or mobster thing you are addicted to will still be there by the time the 9^th song fades. I promise.

Iggy kicked off the “Post Pop Depression” tour in Texas.  The show’s opening lines were, “Hey baby we like your lips… All aboard for funtime.”  By the time the tour makes its way to New York in April funtime may translate into a 72-hour binge of “Game of Thrones.” I am going to see Iggy.  Not because of the obvious, well okay, yes because of the obvious.  Plus, I like to think that, “I just do what I want to do.”  On Post Pop Depression Iggy declares, “All I’ve got is my name.”  Mr. Pop, I can hit pause for that.

Blog the truth. Get caught in the lie.

I read an article today about a millennial who lied to his boss about a death in the family.  He needed the time off, really, to build a tree house, which he blogged about.  Of course his fellow millennials read the blog.  If you are a millennial, not a blog goes by unread especially if it appears on Medium.  Tree House dude got a slap on the hand and eventually praise for his marketing prowess.  I do love all the millennial companies with their sexy three or four letter names.  Or two names each made up of three or four letters.  In reality, I would like to work for one.  However, I began to think about what might have happened if back in the day we blogged the truth, and got caught in the lie.  

If I blogged that all those Motley Crue tickets were used for my brother's bachelor's party and not to take Nick Zinner and some other hipsters out on the town, how would my boss have reacted?  One of my very cool bosses sat in front of me signing off on travel requests.  He came to one and said, "this one's fake," signed it and moved on, but the lie was never rubbed in his face.  What would have the consequences been if I blogged about the fake request he signed off on: claiming to see a new and hopeful young band.  In reality I was heading for Memphis to see Dgeneration, when I no longer worked with them.  I even hopped the bus and travelled to Nashville for the next night's show. It would have been a good blog; I painted Danny's fingernails red on the journey to Nashville.  Good blog or not, I don't think I would have been slapped on the back for my marketing chops.

We live in a state of over share.  I remember when it was something I did on the phone with my best friends.  Now I've done it on this site.  There are like 200 people that I don't know who have insight into my sex life.  We've all done the Facebook cringe.  We tweet, snap chat, Instagram, vine, everything we do. We give ourselves no room to lie.  Everyone knows where we are all the time.  You cannot tell someone you are working tonight because they are going to see the photos you post on your FB page of the party you attended tonight.  And we blog stuff.  I like to blog.  However, I think when I have a desire to over share I am keeping a burner phone handy and programming it with direct dial to SlugLine.