DudeAsInCool

Ludacris Interview Adam Bernard 10.05.2003 • ReactMag.com Ludacris This fall Ludacris is going to be all about "Chicken and Beer." "We're going to sell a million copies just based off the title alone," the southern rapper exclaimed when talking about his upcoming album. He continued "I feel that as the older I get, the more I rap, the better I get, practice makes perfect, so I'm just basically sayin' every album I come up with, as long as it's the latest album, it's gonna be the best album from me. It just keeps getting better and better so 'Chicken and Beer' will be the best LP I've ever put out." Luda describes the album, saying "it's the same Ludacris that the core audience loves but then always tryina take things to the next level and do some different stuff that no one would expect me to do, just to take it to the next level. Versatility is important." Versatility isn't the only thing important to the Atlanta native, Ludacris is also serious when it comes to charity. Launched two years ago, The Ludacris Foundation is an Atlanta based charity that Luda puts his whole heart into. "My foundation is geared towards helping kids help themselves doing a number of projects, not necessarily just one thing, but like feeding the homeless, going to rehabilitation centers for kids and visitin them, givin out free stuff, sponsoring boys and girls clubs, sponsoring trophies and uniforms, givin out turkeys at Thanksgiving, sponsoring families at Christmas." The Ludacris Foundation was supposed to receive a hefty gift from Pepsi after the whole ad situation, but apparently no check has been made out yet. According to Luda, "we still never came to an agreement with the foundation when people and Russell Simmons stepped in and people thought that we did, we never did." When asked to play a little word association with the words "Pepsi," and "Bill O'Reilly," the normally humorous MC takes on a very serious tone. "Hypocrite, Racist. Both are hypocrites and you can say they're both racists. Pepsi doesn't value the black dollar, I feel, and that all comes from, using me as an example, it wasn't just about Ludacris it's bigger than me, but they insulted Hip-Hop music as a whole by saying that, by putting the Osbournes on that basically makes me believe that they're saying that I am worse than the Osbournes. Who can say I'm worse than the Osbournes? Man that's crazy." Despite this situation Ludacris still has a positive attitude toward the ad world, saying "like I tell people I'm glad that happened, it was a big learnin experience for me, as a matter of fact we're in negotiations to do a lot more endorsements so it didn't hurt me in that aspect." After that incident Luda can add corporate to the other forms of shadiness he already knows about. When it comes to the music industry, Luda laughs at the concept of trying to put into words how shady the game can get. "There's no way to measure it, it gets ridiculously corrupt and shady, man. Everybody's always lookin out for their own ass, especially in record companies. No one wants to get fired. They'll do or say anything not to get themselves in trouble. Egos play a big part when it comes to artists, and when it comes to producers. It's a political game, man, it's almost like the music industry is it's own separate kind of government and you gotta try and play the game the right way." Paying that game is something Luda's done as a radio station DJ, an independent artist, and now as a superstar. Of course, there's one other kind of shadiness Luda's familiar with, Slim Shady. Luda and his DTP click were on last year's Anger Management tour along with Eminem, Xzibit, and Papa Roach. Luda loved the experience, saying "me bein in front of Eminem's audience, he has a like a 10 million and over audience, so just bein in front of him was great because, of course, that made awareness for myself, and some people that maybe necessarily didn't listen to my music were listenin then, especially since we had Papa Roach on there." There were also groupies there, and when groupies get crazy they turn into stalkers. Luda had one stalker story from the Anger Management Tour, and it happened when they were in the NC/VA area. "One time, you always have your general stalkers, but it was like a whole family that was stalkin me man and I was scared to death because it was the mother the father and like two kids. It was ridiculous man." Ludacris The reaction that Ludacris got when he hit the stage in Atlanta was ridiculous, too, ridiculously huge. "Home is like the best place to perform," he explains, continuing "there's other records that not necessarily everyone else across the country knows but (in) Atlanta they know even more records than what is national, so I do a show in Atlanta and I have even three or four more songs than the world knows." Always showing support for his home state, Luda recently bought a new house there, in College Park. He jokingly says he'll answer the door if MTV Cribs comes knocking on one condition, "maybe, eventually, if they give me the whole half an hour." When it comes to how many women will be getting in those doors, the man who once said he had hoes in different area codes says he's calming down a bit, but no he's not married. "I'm not married. There's always this rumor flyin around that I'm married. I used to have a lot of different pros in different area codes but now I've kinda narrowed it down, let's just say that." While the number of "pros" he has may be shrinking, the number of remixes he's featured on is growing by leaps and bounds. Luda is the unofficial king of the remix, appearing with everyone from Cam'Ron to Usher, and expect to hear him keep popping up on other people's songs as he explains "a lotta people just say they wanna work with me and I think that's great man." He continued, "I feel like working with different artists, it keeps me balanced, it keeps me working with different styles and I learn from every artist I work with, so it's almost like I think that's the greatest thing in the world." Though he doesn't like to play favorites, Ludacris did say who he felt he's learned the most from, "out of all the collaborations I would have to say R. Kelly, to be real with you, just because dude is like a studio junkie man he's like a lab rat and he's so focused when it comes to his music." He also cited Kelly, and Missy Elliott as two of his favorite people to work with. In the end the learning experience is always a good thing, but Luda adds that there is another reason to continue to do remixes, "(I'm) lettin different people's audiences hear me on different records. It's all about doin the unexpected, man." There are some things that fall into the category of "expected" for Luda, however, including a few release dates. The soundtrack to The Fast and the Furious 2 is set to drop May 27th, the movie, which Luda has a role in, is due out June 6th, and Luda's third solo effort, "Chicken and Beer" will be dropping in early fall. Luda calls his role in The Fast and the Furious 2, "like a medium role, it's not too big, it's not too small, it's a pretty good role. I'll see where it takes me." Fans of his music need not worry, Luda's not about to become a full time actor. He is quick to say "music will always be (my) number one love," and that's news that should keep plenty of people happy, and plenty of remixes hot.

(AP, 11/28/2003 4:51:00PM) By Gary Gentile Michael Jackson , whose albums once generated tens of millions of dollars in sales, would like the world to believe he has a billion dollar fortune at his disposal. Others who have tried to estimate the pop icon's wealth say his status is so precarious he has trouble paying his bills. The truth about Jackson's finances is as mysterious as what goes on behind the gates of his Neverland estate. Depending on the source, the man who once danced atop the pop-music universe is either spending his way into bankruptcy or presiding over a wealthy music and real estate empire. Forbes magazine has estimated Jackson's net worth at $350 million, a figure that would be much higher if not for an estimated $200 million in debt. His assets include his 2,600-acre Santa Barbara County ranch, homes in Las Vegas and Encino, Calif., and other properties. His stake in Sony/ATV, which includes catalogs for the Beatles and many Elvis Presley songs, is estimated by Forbes to be worth at least $350 million. Jackson bought ATV in 1985 for about $47.5 million and sold it to Sony for about $95 million in 1995, retaining a half interest. According to some newspaper reports, his Sony/ATV stake helped Jackson secure a $200 million loan in 2001 from Bank of America to fund his living expenses and the cost of producing his "Invincible" album. Sony Music would not comment on the report, and Jackson's financial adviser did not return calls seeking comment. Jackson also continues to receive steady income from his own recordings, although his album sales have spiraled downward for years. He hit his peak in 1982 when "Thriller" generated $115 million in sales, his best-selling album. While Jackson's star has faded in the United States, his popularity abroad has helped prop up his financial empire. His latest greatest hits album debuted last week at only 13th on the U.S. charts but No. 1 in Britain, while selling well in Australia, Ireland and New Zealand. Next spring, a Japanese clothing maker is scheduled to roll out an "MJ" line of business suits that will sell for about $480 in U.S. dollars. This week, the Wakita Co. said it would move forward with its plans despite accusations that Jackson molested a 13-year-old boy. A spokesman said the contracts to sell the suits at department stores were delayed because the allegations surfaced just as the deals were about to be signed. "If he is convicted, it will not be good for our image and we will have to reconsider the plan," Wakita Co. spokesman Junichi Ota said from company offices in Japan. Jackson has been dogged for years by rumors of souring finances. Declining record sales, a fading endorsement career, lawsuits, settlements and the singer's lavish spending habits have created the impression that his financial house is a shambles. In a BBC documentary aired in February on ABC, he is seen buying millions of dollars worth of items, including a chess set, urns, tables, paintings and other objects from a gift shop inside a Las Vegas casino. He tells the reporter he is worth $1 billion or more. He also is shown telling a young visitor to Neverland that he plans to build a waterpark on the property. The Neverland estate remains one of Jackson's prime assets. He paid $14.6 million for it in 1998. Real estate appraisers estimate the property's current market value at more than $50 million, according to a report in the Santa Barbara News-Press. It now includes amusement park rides, a train and a zoo, requiring about $3 million in annual operating costs. The closest the public has come to gaining credible insight into Jackson's finances came in a lawsuit filed in May in which a former adviser alleged Jackson was "a ticking financial time bomb waiting to explode at any moment." Union Finance and Investment Corp. of South Korea claimed Jackson owed the firm $12 million in fees and expenses, plus interest. Jackson had hired Union Finance in 1998 to help straighten out his finances, according to the lawsuit. The firm said it soon discovered that Jackson had only two months worth of available funds. A month before the lawsuit was settled, exhibits containing Jackson's financial details were sealed by a judge. The agreement included a confidentiality clause, a standard part of many of the lawsuits Jackson has settled in the past. Jackson has been the target of numerous lawsuits over the years, many of which have cost him millions. In 1993, he paid an estimated $15 million to $20 million to the family of a boy who accused him of molestation. Jackson never faced charges. In January, Sotheby's auction house sued Jackson's production company, saying the pop singer bid $1.3 million for two paintings and then changed his mind and refused to pay. The lawsuit asked the court to award at least $1.6 million in damages. In March, Jackson was ordered to pay concert promoter Marcel Avram $5.3 million for pulling out of two millennium concerts. Not every lawsuit has gone against the 45-year-old singer. In 1997, five former Neverland employees lost a wrongful termination suit against Jackson and were ordered to pay $1.4 million in attorney fees and $60,000 in damages. A jury rejected claims that the employees were fired for cooperating in a probe into the 1993 molestation allegations. ___ Associated Press Writer Yuri Kageyama in Tokyo contributed to this report.

(AP, 11/28/2003 6:15:00PM) The record album John Lennon signed for the man who killed him hours later is for sale online. Gary Zimet, president of the Web site Moments in Time, said the album, "Double Fantasy," is being offered for $525,000. The album is being sold by the man who found it in the front gate flower planter outside the Dakota apartment building near Central Park. Mark David Chapman shot and killed Lennon in 1980 outside the building, where Lennon lived with his wife, Yoko Ono . "There has been a tremendous amount of interest," Zimet said in a phone interview. "This is the greatest rock 'n' roll piece ever sold." Zimet said on the Web site that the owner, "a Beatle fan all of his life ... wrestled for 18 years before coming to the decision to sell the album." The owner had turned the album in to police as evidence, and it was returned "with a letter of extreme gratitude from the District Attorney," said Zimet, who did not identify the album's owner. The album bears the signature of John Lennon and is dated 1980. Zimet said the cover and dust jacket contain forensically enhanced fingerprints of Chapman. Other items offered on Zimet's memorabilia Web site include autographs by famed jazz musician Louis Armstrong and photographs of President Kennedy. ___ On the Net: http://www.momentsintime.com

At Last - Bruce Becvar "Take It to Heart" (Shining Star)

Meow! Welcome to Beatking, Cheshire. This is a community music site - feel free to post articles and share your interests with us - or just hang out. Enjoy your stay at BK.

I hear Jim Sheridan's (My Left Foot) America, the Beautiful is terrific and a possibility for Best Picture.

Good question. Obviously he has the money to fight this thing--but, this time around it looks like the Santa Barbara DA is trying to make a name for himself.

Carefull, Wolfboy. Keep it up and Im gonna report you to the Mods.. :) But for those you out there who don't know about Blue Velvet, David Lynch's beautifully crafted mystery drama was released in 1986 and was one of the Academy 's 5 nominees for Best Picture.

dj picks (10 x 5) November '03 Every month, five of our music programmers choose their ten favorite albums. KCRW members can receive discounts on these albums and downloads as a Fringe Benefit at selected music stores. Our featured programmers this month are Nic Harcourt (Morning Becomes Eclectic), Janda Bladwin (Broadband), Jason Bentley (Metropolis), Tom Schnabel (Cafe LA), and Garth Trinidad (Chocolate City). Nic Harcourt Morning Becomes Eclectic ARTIST ALBUM LABEL Azure Ray Hold on Love Saddle Creek Belle & Sebastian Dear Castrophe Waitress Sanctuary/Rough Trade Isobell Campbell Amorino Instinct Death Cab for Cutie Transatlanticism Barsuk Jet Get Born Elektra Ricki Lee Jones The Evening of My Best Day V2 Joe Strummer & The Mescaleros Streetcore Hellcat Travis 12 Memories Epic Twilight Singers Blackberry Belle Birdman/One Little Indian The Thrills So Much for the City Virgin Janda Baldwin Broadband ARTIST ALBUM LABEL Ryan Adams Rock 'n' Roll Lost Highway/Island The Clientele The Violet Hour Merge Belle & Sebastian Dear Castrophe Waitress Sanctuary/Rough Trade Sparrow Sparrow Overcoat Fireside Get Shot V2 Buy Album Aspera Oh Fantastica Jagjaguwar Joe Henry Tiny Voices Anti Bedroom Walls I Saw You Coming Back to Me Real Cats Black Rebel Motorcycle Club Take Them On, On Your Own Virgin The Stills Rememberese Vice Buy Jason Bentley Metropolis ARTIST ALBUM LABEL Alex Kid Mint FCom Astor Piazzolla Remix Project Milan Basement Jaxx Kish Kash Astralwerks Prefuse 73 Extinguished Outakes Warp Bent Everlasting Blink Guidance Anjali The World of Lady Ouija Chemical Brothers Singles 93 - 03 Astralwerks Plump DJs Eargasm Finger Lickin' UNKLE Never Never Land Mo Wax Chungking We Travel Fast Tummy Touch Tom Schnabel Cafe LA ARTIST ALBUM LABEL Cirque du Soleil Solarium Cirque du Soleil Daude Neguinha Te Amo Real World Miroslav Vitous Universal Syncopations ECM Richard Bona The Tail Verve Chucho Valdes New Conceptions Blue Note Virginia Rodrigues Mares Profundos Edge Vladimir Horowitz At Carnegie Hall 1965 Sony Astor Piazzolla Remix Project Milan Rumbanella Group El Congo Marabi Abida Parveen Baba Bulleh Shah Oreade Music Back to top Garth Trinidad Chocolate City ARTIST ALBUM LABEL Jean Grae The Bootleg of The Bootleg EP Baby Grande Reel People 2nd Guess Papa Outkast Speakerboxxx/The Love Below Arista Kelis Tasty Tasty Buy Album Keziah Jones Black Orpheus De Label Weapon of Choice Illoominutty Nuttsactor 5 Cesaria Evora Club Sodade Lusafrica Nathan Haines Squire for Hire Chillifunk Marvin Gaye I Want You: Deluxe Edition Motown Ammoncontact Sounds Like Everything Plug Research Back to top © 2003 KCRW. All rights reserved. http://kcrw.com/cgi-bin/db/kcrw.pl?tmplt_type=Home_new

Movies have a resonant affect on culture. Memorable lines have a way of creeping in to our daily lifes. What are your favorites? I'll start: "Heinekin? Heinekin? PABST - BLUE - RIBBON!" - Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet

Here it now: http://www.prisonradio.org/maj/maj_marley.html

John Lennon The Rolling Stone Interview By JANN S. WENNER Are you the Beatles? No. I'm not the Beatles. I'm me. Paul isn't the Beatles. Brian Epstein wasn't the Beatles, neither is Dick James [beatles' music publisher]. The Beatles are the Beatles. Separately, they are separate. George was a separate, individual singer with his own group as well, before he came in with us. Nobody is the Beatles. How could they be? We all had our roles to play. Let's reapproach that. The Beatles were always talked about - and the Beatles talked about themselves - as being four parts of the same person. What's happened to those four parts? They remembered that they were four individuals. You see, we believed the Beatles myth, too. I don't know whether the others still believe it. We were four guys. . . . I met Paul and said, ``You want to join me band?'' Then George joined, and then Ringo joined. We were just a band that made it very, very big, that's all. Our best work was never recorded. "No. I'm not the Beatles. I'm me." Why? Because we were performers - in spite of what Mick [Jagger] says about us - in Liverpool, Hamburg and other dance halls. What we generated was fantastic when we played straight rock, and there was nobody to touch us in Britain. As soon as we made it, we made it, but the edges were knocked off. You know, Brian put us in suits and all that, and we made it very, very big. But we sold out, you know. The music was dead before we even went on the theater tour of Britain. We were feeling shit already, because we had to reduce an hour or two hours' playing, which we were glad about in one way, to twenty minutes, and we would go on and repeat the same twenty minutes every night. The Beatles' music died then, as musicians. That's why we never improved as musicians; we killed ourselves then to make it. And that was the end of it. "I don't remember, you know. I was in my own pain. I wasn't noticing really. I just did it like a job." I would like to ask a question about Paul and go through that. When we went and saw `Let It Be' in San Francisco, what was your feeling? I felt sad, you know. Also, I felt . . . that film was set up by Paul for Paul. That is one of the main reasons the Beatles ended. I can't speak for George, but I pretty damn well know we got fed up of being sidemen for Paul. After Brian died, that's what happened, that's what began to happen to us. The camera work was set up to show Paul and not anybody else. And that's how I felt about it. How would you trace the breakup of the Beatles? After Brian died, we collapsed. Paul took over and supposedly led us. But what is leading us, when we went round in circles? We broke up then. That was the disintegration. When did you first feel that the Beatles had broken up? When did that idea first hit you? I don't remember, you know. I was in my own pain. I wasn't noticing really. I just did it like a job. What was your feeling when Brian died? The feeling that anybody has when somebody close to them dies. There is a sort of little hysterical, sort of hee, hee, I'm glad it's not me or something in it, the funny feeling when somebody close to you dies. I don't know whether you've had it, but I've had a lot of people die around me. And the other feeling is: ``What the fuck? What can I do?'' I knew that we were in trouble then. I didn't really have anymisconceptions about our ability to do anything other than play music, and I was scared. I thought, ``We've fuckin' had it.'' When did your songwriting partnership with Paul end? That ended . . . I don't know, around 1962 or something, I don't know. If you give me the albums, I can tell you exactly who wrote what and which line. We sometimes wrote together. All our best work - apart from the early days, like ``I Want to Hold Your Hand'' - we wrote apart always. ``One After 909,'' on Let It Be, I wrote when I was seventeen or eighteen. We always wrote separately, but we wrote together because we enjoyed it a lot sometimes, and also because they would say, ``Well, you're going to make an album; get together and knock off a few songs'' just like a job. How would you characterize George's, Paul's and Ringo's reaction to Yoko? It's the same. You can quote Paul, it's probably in the papers; he said it many times that at first he hated Yoko, and then he got to like her. But it's too late for me. I'm for Yoko. Why should she take that kind of shit from those people? They were writing about her looking miserable in the film Let It Be, but you sit through sixty sessions with the most bigheaded, uptight people on earth and see what it's fuckin' like and be insulted. And George, shit, insulted her right to her face in the Apple office at the beginning, just being ``straightforward,'' you know, that game of ``I'm going to be upfront, because this is what we've heard,'' and Dylan and a few people said she'd got a lousy name in New York. That's what George said to her! And we both sat through it. I didn't hit him; I don't know why. Ringo was all right, but the other two really gave it to us. I'll never forgive them, I don't care what fuckin' shit about Hare Krishna and God and Paul with his ``Well, I've changed me mind.'' I can't forgive 'em for that, really. Although I can't help still loving them either. What do you think of the Stones today? I think it's a lot of hype. I like ``Honky Tonk Women,'' but I think Mick's a joke with all that fag dancing; I always did. I enjoy it; I'll probably go and see his films and all like everybody else, but really, I think it's a joke. Do you see him much now? No, I never do see him. We saw a bit of each other when Allen [Klein, Beatles' late-period manager] was first coming in - I think Mick got jealous. I was always very respectful of Mick and the Stones, but he said a lot of sort of tarty things about the Beatles, which I am hurt by because, you know, I can knock the Beatles, but don't let Mick Jagger knock them. I would like to just list what we did and what the Stones did two months after on every fuckin' album. Every fuckin' thing we did, Mick does exactly the same - he imitates us. And I would like one of you fuckin' underground people to point it out. You know, Satanic Majesties is Pepper; ``We Love You,'' it's the most fuckin' bullshit, that's ``All You Need Is Love.'' I resent the implication that the Stones are like revolutionaries and that the Beatles weren't. If the Stones were or are, the Beatles really were, too. But they are not in the same class, musicwise or powerwise, never were. I never said anything, I always admired them, because I like their funky music, and I like their style. I like rock & roll and the direction they took after they got over trying to imitate us. He's obviously so upset by how big the Beatles are compared with him, he never got over it. Now he's in his old age, and he is beginning to knock us, you know, and he keeps knocking. I resent it, because even his second fuckin' record, we wrote it for him. Mick said, ``Peace made money.'' We didn't make any money from peace. Do you think you're a genius? Yes, if there is such a thing as one, I am one. When did you realize that what you were doing transcended -- People like me are aware of their so-called genius at ten, eight, nine. . . . I always wondered, ``Why has nobody discovered me?'' In school, didn't they see that I'm cleverer than anybody in this school? That the teachers are stupid, too? That all they had was information that I didn't need? I got fuckin' lost in being at high school. I used to say to me auntie, ``You throw my fuckin' poetry out, and you'll regret it when I'm famous, '' and she threw the bastard stuff out. I never forgave her for not treating me like a fuckin' genius or whatever I was, when I was a child. It was obvious to me. Why didn't they put me in art school? Why didn't they train me? Why would they keep forcing me to be a fuckin' cowboy like the rest of them? I was different, I was always different. Why didn't anybody notice me? A couple of teachers would notice me, encourage me to be something or other, to draw or to paint - express myself. But most of the time they were trying to beat me into being a fuckin' dentist or a teacher. And then the fuckin' fans tried to beat me into being a fuckin' Beatle or an Engelbert Humperdinck, and the critics tried to beat me into being Paul McCartney. How did you first get involved in LSD? A dentist in London laid it on George, me and the wives, without telling us, at a dinner party at his house. He was a friend of George's and our dentist at the time, and he just put it in our coffee or something. When you came down, what did you think? I was pretty stoned for a month or two. The second time we had it was in L.A. We were on tour in one of those houses, Doris Day's house or wherever it was we used to stay, and the three of us took it, Ringo, George and I. Maybe Neil [Aspinall] and a couple of the Byrds - what's his name, the one in the Stills and Nash thing? - Crosby and the other guy who used to do the lead. McGuinn. I think they came, I'm not sure, on a few trips. Peter Fonda came, and that was another thing. He kept saying [in a whisper], ``I know what it's like to be dead.'' It was a sad song, an acidy song, I suppose. ``When I was a little boy'' . . . you see, a lot of early childhood was coming out, anyway. So LSD started for you in 1964. How long did it go on? It went on for years, I must have had a thousand trips. Literally a thousand, or a couple of hundred? A thousand - I used to just eat it all the time. The other Beatles didn't get into LSD as much as you did? George did. In L.A. the second time we took it, Paul felt very out of it because we are all a bit slightly cruel, sort of ``we're taking it, and you're not.'' But we kept seeing him, you know. We couldn't eat our food; I just couldn't manage it, just picking it up with our hands. There were all these people serving us in the house, and we were knocking food on the floor and all of that. It was a long time before Paul took it. I think George was pretty heavy on it; we are probably the most cracked. Paul is a bit more stable than George and I. And straight? I don't know about straight. Stable. I think LSD profoundly shocked him and Ringo. I think maybe they regret it. Did you have many bad trips? I had many. Jesus Christ, I stopped taking it because of that. I just couldn't stand it. You got too afraid to take it? It got like that, but then I stopped it for I don't know how long, and then I started taking it again just before I met Yoko. I got the message that I should destroy my ego, and I did, you know. I was slowly putting myself together round about Maharishi time. Bit by bit over a two-year period, I had destroyed me ego. I didn't believe I could do anything. I just was nothing. I was shit. Then Derek [Taylor, Apple press officer] tripped me out at his house after he got back from L.A. He sort of said, ``You're all right,'' and pointed out which songs I had written: ``You wrote this,'' and ``You said this,'' and ``You are intelligent, don't be frightened.'' The next week I went to Derek's with Yoko, and we tripped again, and she made me realize that I was me and that it's all right. That was it; I started fighting again, being a loudmouth again and saying, ``I can do this. Fuck it. This is what I want,'' you know. ``I want it, and don't put me down.'' I did this, so that's where I am now. At some point, right between `Help!' and `Hard Day's Night,' you got into drugs and got into doing drug songs. A Hard Day's Night, I was on pills. That's drugs, that's bigger drugs than pot. I started on pills when I was fifteen, no, since I was seventeen, since I became a musician. The only way to survive in Hamburg to play eight hours a night, was to take pills. The waiters gave you them - the pills and drink. I was a fucking dropped-down drunk in art school. Help! was where we turned on to pot, and we dropped drink, simple as that. I've always needed a drug to survive. The others, too, but I always had more, more pills, more of everything because I'm more crazy probably. How do you think LSD affected your conception of the music? In general? It was only another mirror. It wasn't a miracle. It was more of a visual thing and a therapy, looking at yourself a bit. It did all that. You know, I don't quite remember. But it didn't write the music. I write the music in the circumstances in which I'm in, whether it's on acid or in the water. What was your experience with heroin? It just was not too much fun. I never injected it or anything. We sniffed a little when we were in real pain. We got such a hard time from everyone, and I've had so much thrown at me and at Yoko, especially at Yoko. We took H because of what the Beatles and others were doing to us. But we got out of it. "I hope we're a nice old couple living off the coast of Ireland or something like that - looking at our scrapbook of madness." I read a little interview with you, done when you went to the Rock & Roll Revival over a year ago in Toronto. You said you were throwing up before you went onstage. Yes. I just threw up for hours until I went on. Would you still be that nervous if you appeared in public? Always that nervous, but what with one thing and another, it just had to come out some way. I don't think I'll do much appearing, it's not worth the strain; I don't want to perform too much for people. What are your personal tastes? Sounds like ``Wop Bop A Loo Bop.'' I like rock & roll; I don't like much else. Why rock & roll? That's the music that inspired me to play music. There is nothing conceptually better than rock & roll. No group, be it Beatles, Dylan or Stones, have ever improved on ``Whole Lot of Shaking,'' for my money. Or maybe I'm like our parents: That's my period, and I dig it, and I'll never leave it. What do you think rock & roll will become in the future? Whatever we make it. If we want to go bullshitting off into intellectualism with rock & roll, then we are going to get bullshitting rock intellectualism. If we want real rock & roll, it's up to all of us to create it and stop being hyped by the revolutionary image and long hair. We've got to get over that bit. That's what cutting hair is about. Let's own up now and see who's who, who is doing something about what, and who is making music, and who is laying down bullshit. Rock & roll will be whatever we make it. Why do you think it means so much to people? Because the best stuff is primitive enough and has no bullshit. It gets through to you; it got through to me, the only thing to get through to me of all the things that were happening when I was fifteen. Rock & roll then was real; everything else was unreal. The thing about rock & roll, good rock & roll - whatever good means and all that shit - is that it's real, and realism gets through to you despite yourself. You recognize something in it which is true, like all true art. Whatever art is, readers. Okay. If it's real, it's simple usually, and if it's simple, it's true. Something like that. How do you rate yourself as a guitarist? Well, it depends on what kind of guitarist. I'm okay; I'm not technically good, but I can make it fucking howl and move. I was rhythm guitarist. It's an important job. I can make a band drive. How do you rate George? He's pretty good [laughs]. I prefer myself. I have to be honest, you know. I'm really very embarrassed about my guitar playing, in one way, because it's very poor; I can never move, but I can make a guitar speak. I think there's a guy called Ritchie Valens, no, Richie Havens. Does he play very strange guitar? He's a black guy that was in a concert and sang ``Strawberry Fields'' or something. He plays, like, one chord all the time. He plays a pretty funky guitar. But he doesn't seem to be able to play in the real terms at all. I'm like that. Yoko has made me feel cocky about my guitar. You see, one part of me says, ``Yes, of course I can play,'' because I can make a rock move, you know? But the other part of me says, ``Well, I wish I could just do like B.B. King.'' If you would put me with B.B. King, I would feel real silly. I'm an artist, and if you give me a tuba, I'll bring you something out of it. You're going back to London. What's a rough picture of your immediate future, say, the next three months? I'd like to just vanish just a bit. It wore me out, New York. I love it. I'm just sort of fascinated by it, like a fucking monster. Do you have a rough picture of the next few years? Oh no, I couldn't think of the next few years; it's abysmal thinking of how many years there are to go, millions of them. I just play it by the week. I don't think much ahead of a week. Page Credits: Do you have a picture of ``when I'm sixty-four''? No, no. I hope we're a nice old couple living off the coast of Ireland or something like that - looking at our scrapbook of madness.

Before the Flood From Guitar World magazine’s “Guitar Legends” (Fall 1992) which is a reprint of the article originally published in the September 1983 edition of Guitar World. Thanks to Adrian Gimpel for this HTML file. It was originally created for his site "SRV Online". He has since shut down SRV Online and has offered this and other articles for posting on this site. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ From the roadhouses of Austin comes Stevie Ray Vaughan, riding his Stratocaster to blues greatness on Texas Flood. By Frank Joseph Presence — the ability to make direct, emotional contact with a listener’s heart — is that elusive intangible for which all guitarists strive and few attain. Stevie Ray Vaughan, Texas blues man, has presence to spare. His razor-edged guitar impacts emotionally on David Bowie’s space-age funk opus, Let’s Dance; simultaneously, Vaughan’s first LP, Texas Food (Epic), firmly establishes him in the fertile ranks of Lone Star blues masters. Just slightly more than a year ago Vaughan was known only in bar rooms across Texas, where his band, Double Trouble — drummer Chris Layton and Johnny Winter veteran, bassist Tommy Shannon — plied their special brand of blues. From that dead-end roadhouse existence, Stevie’s gut-wrenching vibrato and intense, machine-gun delivery began catching the ears of some important people. Two noted juke-joint prowlers, Rolling Stones Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, caught Double Trouble at a Dallas club and new the band up to New York to play at a private party. The Stones expressed interest in signing Double Trouble to their RS label, though they never followed through with a contract. But when Stones roll, they make waves. Noted producer and talent-hunter Jerry Wexler arranged a move that proved to be, both literally and figuratively, a giant step for Stevie’s guitar-led group. “Jerry had heard us in an Austin club,” Vaughan explains, “and he contacted the director of the 1982 Montreux Jazz Festival and got us booked there.” The invitation to appear was a double honor, as Double Trouble became, on the strength of Wexler’s recommendation, the first act ever to perform at Montreux without a record. Though Stevie Ray was a bit intimidated by Montreux’s heavyweight line-up — “We weren’t sure how we’d be accepted” — the searing licks that emanated from his array of classic Stratocasters won the international audience over. And any lingering doubts Vaughan may have had were alleviated by a request from David Bowie. “As soon as we were finished,” Stevie says of his introduction to rock’s Man of a Thousand Faces, “someone came backstage and told us David Bowie wanted to meet us.” The English art rocker and Texas blues trio repaired “to the musician’s bar at the casino,” Vaughan details, “where we talked for hours. We ended up playing at the bar for several nights, and Jackson Browne came in and jammed with us.” As it turned out, Bowie was preparing to record an “underlying r&b work,” and with some persistence hired Stevie to play lead on Let’s Dance and in his band for his current world tour. Since the first of the year Bowie has made a point of informing the music media that “Stevie is the most exciting city blues stylist I’ve heard in years.” Going a step further, Bowie has placed Double Trouble on the bill for his outdoor U.S. concerts, insuring the widest possible exposure for Vaughan. Jackson Browne, whose interest wasn’t quite so vested as Bowie’s, offered Stevie his Down Town studio to record an album that would win Double Trouble a label deal. The LP was presented to the legendary producer John Hammond, Sr., whose greatest discoveries — Count Basie, Charlie Christian, Bob Dylan, Aretha Franklin, Bruce Springsteen — are all groundbreakers in the pantheon of American popular music. “Immensely excited by Vaughan’s “freshness,” Hammond purchased the album, Texas Flood, and signed Double Trouble to the CBS-distributed label bearing his name. From his Manhattan office the music industry’s most respected maven remarks, “I was so delighted by Stevie’s sound — it’s unlike anyone else’s — and he’s such a marvellous improviser, never repeating exactly the same thing twice.” In addition, Hammond was impressed by the band’s “strong ensemble sense.” That “sense” is a result of Vaughan and company’s having performed almost nightly since Double Trouble was formed in May, 1979. In order to preserve the band’s symbiotic intensity, Texas Flood (except for some of the vocals) was recorded Live in the studio, without overdubbing or headphones. Vaughan’s insistence on this point led to a most unusual occurrence, which underscores the trio’s precision. “In the middle of one of the tunes I broke a string and we had to stop,” Vaughan recalls. “After I changed the string we picked up right where we left off — and punched back in at the same time. I don’t know if this has ever been done before. The engineer sort of looked at us weird, but we got it on the first take.” Stevie laughs, refusing to reveal the song’s title, challenging listeners to guess for themselves. Hammond personally took the role of executive producer for Texas Flood. “There was a strange balance, and we spent a lot of time remixing it.” he says. It is a job he obviously relished, however. “I can’t take too much credit for Stevie. He came to me, and that’s almost unique in my experience. Only one other person has done that, Bruce Springsteen, and that’ s pretty good company.” Hammond has in his career been intimately involved with the development of such guitar giants as Eddie Lang, Charlie Christian and George Benson. Of this rather select group, he states, “They are all on the highest possible plateau, and Stevie’s right up there with them. There’s nothing artificial about his presence — it’s honest music.” Drawing an analogy between two of the celebrated guitarists and Vaughan, Hammond comments, “Charlie came in and gave Benny [Goodman] new life, and I think Stevie’s doing the same for David Bowie. Eddie Lang was a trailblazer in the Twenties and Thirties, and Stevie’s a trailblazer in the Eighties. He’s the true kind of creative force that one looks for but rarely finds. He’s truly original, and I automatically compare him to Robert Johnson because Stevie’s got that unique passion.” Passion for the blues and the guitar’s presence is a family tradition for Vaughan, whose brother Jimmie, theexcellent guitarist for the Fabulous Thunderbirds, was a strong role model during their childhood in a Dallas suburb. “I wanted to play saxophone, but all I could get were a few squeaks,” remembers Stevie, who first picked up a guitar in 1963. “So, my big brother was playing guitar and I figured I’d try it too.” Loving it from the “get-go,” Stevie progressed from “a cardboard copy of a Roy Rogers” to his first electric model and amp, a hollow-body Gibson Messenger and a Silvertone. The Silvertone was soon supplemented by a Fender Champion 600. Vaughan remarks, “I had the right kind of amps from the beginning.” Within a year, Stevie was exposed to the classic licks of B.B., Freddie and Albeit King, Albert Collins and other electric blues masters “on the records Jimmy brought home.” As his interest in the guitar inflamed, Stevie began pestering his brother for lessons. “Jimmie showed me a lot of stuff,” the younger Vaughan credits, “but there was a time when he warned, ‘If you ask me to show you anything again, I’ll kick your ass.’ Well, I did and he did!” Also at this time, Stevie heard the blistering guitar instrumental “Wham,” by Lonnie Mack, whose supercharged lines and tone heavily influenced Vaughan’s mature style. “Lonnie was ahead of his time, but at the same time he was right in there with Albert Collins’s Cool Sounds.” Sixteen years later Vaughan had the thrill of meeting his guitar hero. “Lonnie came into an Austin club where we were playing. I asked him if he would play, but Lonnie, the master of the Flying V, said he wouldn’t touch anything but a Gibson [Vaughan’s arsenal was all vintage Strats], and so he just got up and sang his ass off. Later he said he wanted to produce us.” By 1966 Vaughan was trying his first Fender guitar, a ‘52 Broadcaster he borrowed from his brother Jimmie. Two years later, at 14 (and now using a black ‘54 Les Paul T.V. model, again supplied by his brother), Stevie joined his first full-time band, Blackbird. Shortly after joining Blackbird, which had a strong following on the Dallas club circuit, Stevie purchased a ‘52 Gold-top Les Paul. Today a confirmed “Fender man,” who is the proud owner of four classic Stratocasters, Vaughan says of the Gibson solid-bodies: “I never dug regular Les Pauls with that dirty sound, though I liked Jimmie’s T.V. model because it was real clear. The ‘52 sounded good, too, because it had whistlers [Gibson “soapbar” pickups] and not humbuckers, which I’d never use.” If not quite a Les Paul fan, Stevie has come to appreciate “the better Gibson hollow-bodies. I had a Barney Kessel that I got eleven years ago that I really enjoyed until 1975, when it was ripped off, and now there’s my ‘59 dot-neck 335.” Vaughan appreciates the dot-neck 335 because “it sounds and feels pretty. It has a real strong bass response, and at the same time it’s real bright.” Concerning the prized neck, he says, “All dot-necks are different; mine’s not too thin or big around like a log. But it’s wide, which is important because I have big hands, and it fits me real well.” In 1969 Vaughan purchased his first Stratocaster, a ‘63 maple-neck. He began absorbing Jimi Hendrix’s epochal, blues-rooted guitar explorations, at the same time frequenting black venues to experience traditional r&b players first hand. Recalls Stevie, “Blackbird, though basically an r&b band, played all-white clubs. But between sets I’d sneak over to the black places to hear blues musicians. It got to the point where I was making my living at white clubs and having my fun at the other places.” Stevie’s fun was derived from seeing fine local acts like Big Boy and the Arrows and established virtuosos like B.B. and Albert King, Albert Collins, Buddy Guy, Bobby “Blue” Bland with Wayne Bennet and Howlin’ Wolf with Hubert Sumlin — the same people I’d go see now if they were still around.” Stevie is quick to cite Magic Sam, Otis Rush and his brother Jimmie as prime influences, but perhaps more than any other guitarist, Jimi Hendrix left the most indelible mark on Vaughan’s playing. “I love Hendrix for so many reasons,” he states with great reverence. “He was so much more than just a blues guitarist — he played damn well any kind of guitar he wanted. In fact I’m not sure if he even played the guitar — he played music.” Vaughan was not particularly pleased with the Stratocaster he bought in 1969. “It was constantly giving me trouble and driving me nuts,” he says of the ‘63 maple neck. So, for the remainder of his high school years, he switched “back and forth between the ‘52 and ‘54 Les Pauls, and the ‘52 Broadcaster,” before settling on the Gibson Barney Kessel hollow-body in 1972. Following high school Stevie relocated to Austin, a city blossoming with music opportunities. On a return gig to Dallas in 1973 with his new band, the Nightcrawlers, Vaughan arranged a trade for what would become the most important guitar he ever owned. “I walked into this guitar store carrying my ‘63 Strat,” he recalls, “and I saw this other Strat hanging in the window. I just had to have it — I hadn’t even played it, but I knew by the way it looked it sounded great — and I asked if they wanted to trade.” The “new” guitar — Stevie’s prize ‘59 rosewood Stratocaster — became his main axe from the moment he acquired it. Though Vaughan calls the Strat “my ‘59,” the guitar’s true vintage is somewhat unclear. “It was officially put out in 1962,’ he explains, “but the neck is stamped ‘59 .When I got it there was a sticker under the bass pickup that read ‘L.F .’59.’ So I think Leo Fender put it together with spare parts and issued it in ‘62. But it doesn’t really matter to me; all I know is that I’ve never found another one that sounds like it.” One spare part Stevie is especially fond of is the rosewood neck. “The neck is shaped differently from most others. It’s a D-neck, but it’s oddly shaped — it’s real, real big, and fits my hand like a glove.” “My yellow ‘64 is very strange,” is how Stevie describes another of his beloved Strats. “It was owned by the lead guitar player for Vanilla Fudge, who trashed it by putting four humbuckers in it. Charley Wirz [of Charley’s Guitar Shop in Dallas] gave it to me a couple of years ago, and I had him fix it up and put one stock treble Fender pickup in it. The body rings like a bell because it’s practically hollow — the middle was cut out for the humbuckers — and the only pan that’s solid is the edge.” Vaughan used his “bell like” Strat to record “Tell Me,” from Texas Flood. Stevie left the Nightcrawlers in 1973 to take the guitar chair in the Cobras, a long-established, Austin-based r&b band. Two years later, he helped form Triple Threat, with whom he played “as much r&b as I could pull off.” Patterned after an r&b revue, Triple Threat featured an unusual line-up that included five lead singers, among them Stevie himself. In early 1978 the band folded, and with Triple Threat singer Lou Ann Barton he organized Double Trouble, named after his favorite Otis Rush song. As may be discerned from Texas Flood, Double Trouble is decidedly not a power trio in the conventional sense. Vaughan’s guitar dominates the sound. “Lots of times I’ll play lead and rhythm together.” he says. “I play as many different things — piano, sax and harp parts — as I can at once. Whatever I can fit, whenever I need to.” A hallmark of Stevie’s playing is its broad-ranging, tasteful versatility. The glass-breaking vibrate, torrid showers of licks, driving chords and occasional feedback have managed to please both hard-core blues purists and high-energy rock fans, a circumstance obviously not lost on David Bowie. “I don’t know what kind of music you’d call it,” says Stevie of Bowie’s album, “but I tried to play like Albert King and it seemed to fit.” Vaughan’s description is a bit too modest. While he relied more on his King-like, wailing vibrate than on his arsenal of hot licks, it is very doubtful whether Alben King and his Flying V could have so seamlessly fit into Bowie’s work. Like two of his heroes, Lonnie Mack and Jimi Hendrix, Vaughan has successfully integrated blues guitar in music far removed from the style’s original contexts. That is what John Hammond refers to as Stevie’s ”freshness.” The truly killer aspects of Vaughan’s playing are his fat tone and full-bodied clarity, which combined constitute one of the most formidable sounds in guitardom. Stevie Ray attributes his power to his picking technique, string setup and equipment. “Most people can’t bend my strings,” he states matter-of-factly. “The gauges I’m using now — .013, .016, .019, .028, .038, .O56 — are small for me, but if I use ‘em any bigger, I tear my fingers off.” Vaughan also has a habit of tearing his frets off. “The way I play, I go through a set in a year. So I put ’58 Gibson Jumbo Bass frets on all my necks.” To facilitate string-bending Vaughan tunes his guitar to E flat. Stevie has over the years searched for me right combination of amplifiers and speakers. His quest will end “as soon as I get enough money to buy a Dumble. I can’t say enough good things about those amps.” Stevie used Jackson Browne’s Mother Dumble to record Texas Flood. Meanwhile, Vaughan employs a Marshall Combo with two 12-inch JBL’s and two Fender Vibraverbs, no. 5 and 6, with one 15-inch JBL. “My amps are backwards,” he laughs. “I use the Fenders for distortion and the Marshall for clarity.” He adds, “The Marshall is supposed to be 200 watts, but mine’s never worked right; it peaks out at 80.” On stage Stevie uses only one Fender head, as he runs a Y cord From his guitar to the Marshall and one of the Vibraverbs, an obscure 50 watt amp which Fender marketed in the early Sixties. The other Fender serves as a speaker cabinet. For Bowie’s album, Vaughan played through a rented post-CBS Super Reverb; for the tour, he says, he “just bought two Mesa Boogies. I don’t even know what models they are — they’re the small wooden ones. The reason I’m using them is they sound a lot like a Dumble. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to buy a Dumble as soon as I get the money!” All of Vaughan’s guitars have stock pickups. He occasionally employs two devices, an Ibanez Tube Screamer and Vox Wah Wah Pedal, to beef up his sound. “I use the Tube Screamer because of the tone knob,” he says. “That way you can vary the distortion and tonal range. You can turn it on slightly to get a Guitar Slim tone, which is how I use it, or wide open so your guitar sounds like it should jump up and bite you.” None of the devices were used for Let’s Dance. The Tube Screamer did it’s dirty work on two Texas Flood cuts: the title track and, in conjunction with the wah-wah, “Testify.” Equipment aside, one of the most crucial elements of Vaughan’s sound is the way he uses his fingers. ”Sometimes I slide ‘em, rubbing the sides of the strings,” he explains. “To get a big, fat sound that punches out I pop the strings with either my second or third finger. Usually I’ll hold the pick but ignore it, and get my second or third finger under the string, pull it and let go. Basically, it’s what modem bass players do — it gives me a real bright, peppier tone. But now I can get that same tone with my thumb, just by laying into the string a little harder.” Here Vaughan pauses to laugh at himself. “But like my brother Jimmie says, I play like I’m breaking out of jail anyway.

I realize that this is offtopic to the Michael Jackson thread, but. Any interest HM about these two conspiracies? Im actually a friend of Jim Marrs, who wrote the book which Oliver Stone's JFK was based upon, and Im working on a project related to the RFK murder. Marrs, as I, am very interested in the fact that there were numerous Oswald sightings at the same time--Popkin wrote a book about it. It hasnt been explained yet as to why there were multiple Oswalds floating around Dallas to this day.

This article caused a furor when it was published in the NY Times earlier in the year. Any opinions? Here's mine: F**ck Neil Pollack - the question is whether or not this critic is relevant? I'd like to see him rock in his sixties. He oughta write an article about Keith Richards - he's a modern Medical miracle.

Rockin' to the Stones? Yeah, in Chairs By NEAL POLLACK N late fall of 1989, my friend Marc and I took the least rock 'n' roll road trip imaginable. We drove from our dorm, in the suburbs of Chicago, to his parents' house in Indianapolis, because we had tickets to see the Rolling Stones. The drive was flat, ugly and uneventful. We didn't smoke a joint, drink a beer or crank up the stereo. We were more like a couple of retirees going to the reservation casino to play slots than two 19-year-olds on a rock pilgrimage. Advertisement The show was in a nondescript indoor sports arena. We'd spent 25 bucks each on pretty good seats, something like 10th row, just to the right of the stage. Man, were we excited! We were about to see the legendary Rolling Stones, the greatest rock band of all time. The lights went out. We heard the distinct hiss of smoke pots, and then a pop. Fire spurted on either side of the stage. The lights blew on in full glare, and there he was. Mick Jagger! In spangled pants! Singing! Look, there was Keith Richards, playing guitar! And the other guys! For two minutes, I found myself thoroughly entertained. For 10 minutes, I was at least amused. But my heart gradually chilled as I realized what I had really paid for — a two-hour set of golden oldies, accompanied by flaccid pyrotechnics. The Stones trudged mechanically through the horrible songs from their horrible "Steel Wheels" album. They played their greatest hits, just like on the radio, only with worse backup singers. I stopped cheering. Then I stopped applauding. I didn't say it that night, but I knew the hard truth. The Stones were boring. By the time the show was over, I wasn't a Rolling Stones fan anymore. Now, as the Stones launch yet another culturally irrelevant North American tour on Tuesday at the Fleet Center in Boston, which, like their previous five tours, is certain to be their last, I still want to smack myself for having been so lame. In the late 80's, Public Enemy, Sonic Youth, R.E.M., the Replacements, Husker Du and many other more obscure bands were going full strength. Guns 'n' Roses, the true Rolling Stones of their era in terms of attitude and showy stage presence, released "Appetite for Destruction." Indie music in cities like Seattle, Minneapolis, Chicago and Los Angeles still meant something more than a fashion pose. It was right there for me, if I'd only paid attention. So how could I have possibly thought that seeing the Rolling Stones in Indianapolis would have anything to do with rock 'n' roll? Well, I'd been marketed to successfully. I grew up in the suburbs of Phoenix, the least rock 'n' roll place on earth, during the rise of "classic rock" radio, which poisoned my mind for almost a decade. There, in the desert, literal and cultural, I was the willing tool of every sleazy corporate programming executive told by the record megaliths to push Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin, to play "Carry on My Wayward Son" and "Hot Blooded" during morning drive time. I heard so much bad music, but almost never got exposed to the actually good rock music that came out of the classic rock era — the Stooges, the Modern Lovers, the Velvet Underground, Big Star and, to use K-Tel parlance, many more. I'd been so thoroughly brainwashed that I thought Huey Lewis and the News had a hot sound. I bought the single of "Addicted to Love" and the Billy Joel live in the Soviet Union album. My taste in music was, frankly, pathetic. My only exposure to the Rolling Stones came when "Start Me Up" was played at junior-high dances. The first great album I heard was the Stones' "Let It Bleed," which had miraculously found its way into my parents' collection alongside the Beach Boys' "Surfin' U.S.A." and cast recordings of Broadway shows starring Carol Burnett. There was even a mint-condition poster of the band inside the jacket, which means my parents had rarely if ever listened to the record. But I did, often. The pops and skips of vinyl gave "Midnight Rambler" an extra layer of menace. "Love in Vain" sounded as if it'd been recorded by the devil under a bridge somewhere. The album was, and is, authentically weird. I'd never heard anything like it and didn't again until a friend made a tape of the Velvet Underground's 1968 "White Light/White Heat" for me a few years later. I spent the subsequent years listening to both volumes of "Hot Rocks," a Stones greatest-hits collection, more than any other album in my wimpy little collection. AFTER that Indy show in 1989, I listened to "Hot Rocks" a lot less often, and then not at all. I started working at the college radio station, albeit as a newscaster, and discovered rock records made by people who were actually younger than my parents. By 22, I was only modestly less of a music idiot (I skipped a small-venue Nirvana show because I had a paper due), but at least I'd seen the Pogues fronted by Shane McGowan and the Pixies before they broke up. I sold all my Stones albums to a used-record store for credit. They were worth nothing to me, because they'd outlived their usefulness. To someone my age who's seen or heard hundreds of more vital bands, the Stones are, or should be, distant popular history. They are a Vegas headliner show, not a rock outfit. In his book "Rock Til You Drop" (Verso Books, 2001), the definitive word on the senescent Stones, John Strausbaugh calls them "The Historical Reenactment of the Once-Great Rolling Stones." I would no sooner buy tickets to a community-theater production of "The Unsinkable Molly Brown," or an Andy Williams concert, than see the Stones again. Every time the Stones tour, someone publishes an essay begging them to stop, calling them on their dull new songs, mocking Sir Mick's withering frame and grotesque dance moves, but to what end? It's like accusing Ringling Brothers clowns of going through the motions. My very important opinion on this topic is not just generational animus. I'm no fan, particularly, of Bruce Springsteen or Bob Dylan, but at least their current music acknowledges and reflects the fact that they're not so young anymore. In the last five years, I've seen many musical acts of the Stones' generation or even older, including Johnny Cash, James Brown, Merle Haggard, George Jones, Willie Nelson, Solomon Burke and Aretha Franklin. Some of the performers seemed tired, while others put on inspirational shows that I'll always talk about. But I never left any of those concerts feeling empty or ripped off as I did when I saw the Stones. Earlier this year, I went to an Iggy Pop show in Philadelphia. Even though Iggy filled half the time with mediocre material off his new album, he still threw together one of the best rock concerts I've ever seen. He made Mick Jagger look like an animatronic dancing bear. And much of his audience was under 40. Iggy meant something to them, because he still rocks. Teenagers now, because of countless technological advances, have many opportunities to discover great music, both from the present and the past. But the Stones are going to get all kinds of corporate radio play with this latest "Licks" tour to promote the October release of "Forty Licks," a retrospective double album that includes a whopping four new songs. The tour will extend well into next year if you include the Asian and Australian dates. The air will be full of three-song Rolling Stones "rock blocks," and some stupid 15-year-old boy in some culturally cosseted upper-middle-class suburb somewhere will hear "Mother's Little Helper" for the first time and think the Stones are cool. He may even spend the 85 bucks or more they're asking for tickets. At those prices, with this musical product, the kid will get over the Rolling Stones, and fast. Neal Pollack is the author of ``The Neal Pollack Anthology of American Literature,'' a collection of satiric essays (Harper Perennial). His rock 'n' roll novel, ``Never Mind the Pollacks,'' will be published by HarperCollins in the fall of 2003. NY Times * Artsand Leisure

http://www.pauloakenfold.com/

LOL

However, you can continue to create threads and polls for the specific forums--this rule just applies to the news on the front page--which will mostly likely be posted anyway. We just want to ensure nothing bad is posted there...

Muzak follows us every where. We are forced to listen to it, whether we like it or not. Now's your chance to send a message to its creators. Go Postal--Whatdoyathink?

KCRW (89.9), public radio in Santa Monica, CA, streams innovative and eclectic alernative music, including electronica 24/7. Requires 128 K MP3, is compatible with various MP3 players, including WinAmp, Itunes, etc. http://KCRWmusic.com/ See November DJ Picks in DJ forum for samples...

All very plausible. Well, Im hitting the hay. Next time I will be curious as to your take on the RFK and JFK stuff--the reason that conspiratorilists exist is because there is something there :)

This article sums its up aptly - - the recording industry lost because they didnt learn that when it comes to copyright, technology always wins out.

Wonder if anyone would print this version of the story?

i stand corrected. i wonder why no one picked up on this aspect...all that coverage and there wasnt a real investigator amongst them