Talk About The Passion

A good friend of mine who shares a passion for music sent me a link to an article at the Huffington Post. The article is remarkable in that it was eloquently written by someone equally as passionate about music, and one who knows of which he speaks. I urge you to go right now and read the piece in question, "On My Mind: The State of the Music Business," by John Mellencamp. I can't speak with his authority and insight, but maybe after reading his words, you'll then be moved to come back here, and finish reading my own humble observation, that follows below.

Does anyone care about the music industry? I can tell you that almost all teenagers (the age group that used to buy most of the music) couldn't care less. Week before last, I did my annual "show and tell." Ya know, where I tell my kids about their old, boring, cranky teacher's experiences with, and passion for, music. I tell 'em a little about radio. A little about the Smithereens. A lot about the Beatles -- and why they mean so much to me. I extend that with a few words about following one's passion -- whatever it is -- and how that sometimes turns into really good things. Moreover, I talk about how passion for good things spreads so much good will to others, and gives one a sense of being on this planet. Not the least of which is a belief in oneself, and a responsibility to look after our neighbors.

When I started this little "show and tell" a few years ago, I did so with much hesitation. I had always been one to keep things to myself, because, after all, why would kids less than half my age even care about my musical tastes, beliefs, or some intangible thing called passion? Then, to my happy surprise, many of my kids gravitated toward my little presentation. I brought in pictures, and albums, and videos, and look, your wacky teacher dabbled in radio, and worked for a year on this Smithereens Anthology, and even had an article he wrote for a small fan magazine get picked up in Germany, where it was translated to German for a Beatles museum's program. All small things, but all things I'd never dreamed I'd get to participate in -- things I loved to do.

Well, the kids did care, because they cared about me. I could not have been more surprised, or more happy, at such validation. They also got to see a side of me they never knew about. Speaking to them about something I was passionate about, expressing values that defined me a great deal, I found, was inspirational to them. I never knew how incredibly powerful that was. Or, satisfying to me as human being who cares about other human beings. Just when did such a simple and honest statement become so corny a thing to say?

As I said, I got a new lesson, a couple of weeks ago when I did this year's show and tell. Whereas I used to have so many kids stay after class wanting to know more, wanting to touch and see the goodies I brought in, this time only a small hand full of them found any connection to my message. It was truly sad. By third period, I finally asked my class, "How many of you are really into music?" Only three kids raised their hands. Ouch. Only two of them owned any CDs. Only one of them had any real commercial CDs (ie, not CD-Rs). They all had downloaded mp3s illegally, not even bothering to buy them.

I gave my "lesson," anyway. Some got it. Most did not.

What's different, now, so suddenly, and where does that leave us?

Music changed my life. I've known all along that most people are not on the same wavelength as I, not nearly as obsessed about it. Most people, I think, are passionate about something, though, and that is usually what drives them in this planetary existence.

Perhaps the problem really is as John Mellencamp describes in his piece for the Huffington Post: "It's not that the people don't still love music; of course they do. It's just the way it is presented to them that ignores their humanity."

As a result, they don't buy it. They don't really listen to it. They don't experience any heartfelt passion about it. They can't relate to a guy who grew up doing all those things.

I must continue to seek ways of linking to my students' humanity. If our society were to lose out to this kind of ignorance, we become not a people, but rather a sorry system where every man looks out only for himself. We need, as a people, to share ideas and passion for things that are intrinsically good, things that matter to all humans, from the heart. There are several ways people do this, of course. Sharing a love of music, is one way that I understand.

I gave away 6 Beatles CDs, that day. Those 6 kids came back to school today, and reported to their classmates the joy they found in their new music. They got it. Some of their classmates copied their music to their own music players. Well, OK, so maybe it's a start.

How To Know If You're Shopping In Texas

A lazy reason to update my at-times-unattended blog. Yee haw.
(Thanks, Todd.)

Music That Makes You Dumb

Yup, there's a LOT of crap in the 'net, but here's an item that I just couldn't pass up...

From the Wall Street Journal

By Marisa Taylor

Anyone who has ever sought to justify their own musical or literary taste may find some solace in the side project of Virgil Griffith, a 25-year-old Caltech graduate student known for embarrassing numerous corporations with his WikiScanner, the database that tracks the sources of anonymous edits to Wikipedia entries.

With his two Web sites (which have crashed from too much traffic), Booksthatmakeyoudumb.virgil.gr and Musicthatmakesyoudumb.virgil.gr, Griffith used aggregated Facebook data about the favorite bands and books among students of various colleges and plotted them against the average SAT scores at those schools, creating a tongue-in-cheek statistical look at taste and intelligence.

OK, so obviously there's no cause and effect relationship between the music one says he listens to and his intelligence, right? (Right...? Sure, the tards who listen to Aerosmith, but um, not all classic rock fans, right?)

Read more on the WS Journal site, or visit Virgil Griffith's site, itself.

I Am The DJ, I Am What I Play

Houston's major market classic rock station in the late 80s and early 90s was KZFX, 107.5 on the FM dial. Program Director Dan Michaels hosted their three-hour Sunday morning "Breakfast With the Beatles" program, which had segments devoted to interviews, news, trivia, and the like. The main feature, of course, was the massive Beatles music catalog, to help listeners get started on their day.

Being an obsessed Beatles fan, I felt the program could use some tightening up. (Cheeky!) I wasn't a radio programmer, but I knew a little about the Beatles, and I was just determined enough to try to contribute whatever I could.

With all the hutzpah in the world, I took it upon myself to write letters to Michaels, with my own suggestions! Eventually, I began sending him tapes of unreleased bootleg recordings for the "From The Vault" feature, my particular favorite, as well as news. After a few months of correspondence, Dan called me with an invitation to join him at one of the station's remote appearances at a Houston club, to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the Fab Four's arrival in America.

In the midst of mingling with radio listeners at the party, Dan asked me to come down to the radio station and be a guest on his show. What you'll hear below are a few short segments of me blabbering on, all nervous and geeky, in my first on-air appearance. From that point on, and for most of 1994, I worked in my dream job as an intern at KZFX, writing, producing (in Production Studio B!), and occasionally co-hosting Houston's very best Beatles program.

As is common in radio, the station changed formats on October 31st of that year. And yes, I did keep my day job, but boy, that was a lot of fun.

By The Way, She Looks Fantastic In Her Boots of Chinese Plastic

Saturday (2/28), Lisa and I joined my brother C, and our buddies Carl and Sharla at the House of Blues in Houston to see Rock and Roll Hall-of-Famers, Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders. Lucky for us that our pals ate at the HOB, because that entitled us to be one of the first in line, and we got front row and almost dead center. (Thanks Carl and Sharla!)

The Pretenders have a new album out called Breaking Up The Concrete, and are at the end of a tour to support it. The new disc has some rockabilly and country influences, quite a break from the punk/new wave Pretenders of the 1980s.

By my count, most of the first 9 songs were from the new album. That says a lot about Hynde's confidence and new direction. Not that she's ever been one to compromise her ideals, mind you.

In case you didn't know, she's had a long association with the animal rights activists, known as PETA. That might help explain her blue plastic-not-leather-boots, and the opening number "Boots of Chinese Plastic."

So, I might as well go ahead and say it, now. Chrissie Hynde, at age 57, is one very hot mama. If those jeans, those boots, and her strutting around the stage weren't enough, then all she had to do was pose right at front of me, stare through those bangs, and flash that smile. Sheesh! How did she put it? Something about arms, and legs, and smile, and side-step. Yeah, she is special. Yeah, Chrissie Hynde smiled at me. She just had to have some of my attention. (Gulp.)

I put my eyes back in my head, and made sure I put my arms around Lisa, at some point in the show. I know on which side my bread is buttered, ok?

Just as I crossed off Springsteen, Fogerty and Petty from the must-see list, I can finally do the same with the Pretenders. The set was heavy with new tunes, as I said, but there were plenty of the oldies we all came to hear. “Brass In Pocket,” “The Wait,” “Tattooed Love Boys,” “Precious,” “Message Of Love,” “Back On The Chain Gang,” "Talk of the Town," and “Don’t Get Me Wrong” were all present and accounted for.

Original drummer Martin Chambers was happily on hand, as Chrissie introduced him as "the greatest drummer," one she has worked with for 30 years. Then she quipped, "You only get 20 for murder." Chambers held it all together, too. Nice work from him, as two youngsters played bass and lead guitar, and another veteran sat at the steel pedal guitar.

I was surprised to hear how Chrissie's voice has held up after three decades. She commands the stage, and showmanship is unquestionably her strong suit. Her sarcastic wit and dry humor are better understood when you realize that she's spent the last 35 years or so living in England. She's back in Ohio (naturally), helping out in her native Akron.

The noticeably absent cuts for this show were "Middle of the Road," and "My City Was Gone." And while I sometimes really dug the steel pedal guitar, I sometimes wished original guitarist James Honeyman-Scott was still around to wail on some songs, the way we remember them. Small complaints, really, for a darned good show.

Check out this live performance of "Boots of Chinese Plastic!"