The Music Business in One Photo

A picture is 1,000 words. Image courtesy of Gizmodo.

Breaking training with Sid Luscious

As you no doubt have heard, Sid Luscious and The Pants have a show coming up. Since I'm no spring chicken, I've had to start training to get back into fighting/singing/performing shape.

When The Pants first got back together, I was shocked at how physically demanding performing had become. I'd finish practice sweating and winded, barely able to make it through our sets (and that was before we added the dance routines). It seemed so much easier when we were 15.

Now I know better, and I prepare physically and mentally. Doing so this time around has brought up all sorts of memories and thoughts for me.

The record business has always thrived on young, thin, good-looking kids to populate magazines, TV, movies, and stages. According to Hollywood, being fat is worse than not being able to sing, play instruments, dance, or write songs. If you're looking to be a star, you are seriously better off working on your abs than on your act.

So of course, I had to stay in shape, then and now.


I was born in the 60s, and started training regularly in the early 1980s. Things were different then, back in the 20th Century: The post-Pumping Iron era. Jane Fonda's workout videos. Olivia Newton-John singing "Physical" (a #1 hit). Aerobics were new. Leotards for everyone!

Some of the conventional training wisdom of the day:

• Carbs are good, fat is bad. Eat carbs, avoid all fat!
• Steroids are perfectly OK
• Serious bulk for dudes. Lift heavy weights!
• Otherwise, run your ass off (in every sense) with Jim Fixx. Maybe using HeavyHands or ankle weights.
• Leg warmers are acceptable for everyone. Headbands, too.
• Train until it hurts. Then train more.
• If all that fails, just stop eating (also known as the 1,000 calorie-per-day Scarsdale diet), or try the fake Mayo "egg" diet, or drugs.

It was, to say the least, a lot of bad ideas. Couple that with a renewed desire to train kids hard - a product of new tennis prodigies like Steffi Graf and Gabriela Sabatini, the 1980 and 1984 Olympics, and movies like "The Karate Kid" and Rockys I, II, and III, Flashdance, Fame, and of course, the wonder that is Perfect and what do you get?

In my case, you get a supposed "ex-drill sergeant" having you drink raw eggs at 6 am on a Sunday before running you around the reservoir in a rubber suit until you either throw up or collapse.

You get to be 16 years old waking up at 5 am sore, running a few miles to the gym so you can do your morning workout, then going to school or the studio until the day is over, then going back to the gym for the evening workout, then trying to do homework before you fell asleep exhausted to start the whole thing over again.

And they try to get you to like it, to be grateful, to have a positive mental attitude. "It's for your own good", right?

Kids are weird, though. They can't really understand how messed up it all is, and they can still take some pride in accomplishments, whether it's winning a trophy, a smile from a demanding parent or coach, or setting a new personal best. At the time, it didn't seem all that unusual, just...difficult.

Kids' bodies just can't take that kind of punishment for long, and things break or wear out. I managed to escape with a permanently broken bone in my foot, some vertebral degradation, a wacky metabolism, and a little demon constantly whispering in my ear about how I look.

Many of my friends fared worse, ending up with temporary or permanent eating disorders (if they were lucky) and temporary or permanent drug problems (if they weren't). Some had wrecked knees at 16. Some had shredded rotator cuffs at 18. Regardless, we all got spat out of the machine with damaged bodies and body images.

Though I have to say we were damn good looking. All of us. I'd kill to look that good today. Plastic surgery, while an option for some, is just not going to cut it for El Sid.

The 90s were a rough time. I was both the thinnest I've ever been and the fattest I've ever been. Bad eating habits all around. A compulsion to exercise and little enjoyment about any of it. My fondest memories are of playing basketball with my friend Ian on weekends. My worst memories are consecutive weeks of hearing the alarm go off at 5 am and rolling out of bed so tired I literally could not see straight until I was halfway to the gym.

Now it's the 21st century. I find myself on the treadmill again, acutely feeling the impact of every step. After all these years of beating up my body, it's finally learned to beat back. I see myself in the mirror, and the little demon whispers in my ear and starts pointing out all the flaws.

Nobody said it would be easy. It never was, and never is. The effort is what separates the pros from the amateurs. But this time around, I'm going to appreciate and enjoy every bit of it - the hard parts and the painful parts as much as the joyous parts.

Older, wiser, still good-looking. What more could you want from your rock stars?

A brief trip to Musician's Hell

Sunday. Time was I'd wake up after noon, roll down to King's Road Café or some other amazing L.A. breakfast joint, have my people bring me a bowl of coffee and some carbs, and read Rolling Stone. Maybe I'd go program a synth or play guitar later. Relax and enjoy the day. But that was a long time ago.

Today, I have to get microphone stands for our rehearsal room. No more fancy catered rehearsals with roadies to get all the rented gear set up. Our current set of mic stands has seen better days. I'm one of the only Pants that has both a valid credit card and is allowed into most music retail establishments.

I drive down to Guitar Center. This is akin to Orpheus descending into Hades. No musician I know enjoys going to Guitar Center. During the best of times, it has an ambiance that makes Best Buy feel like Tiffany's. And there's a vibe worse than a used-car dealership: You know you're getting ripped off, you're just not sure how. Then there's the "help". As in no help.

I've posted other videos before, but this one succinctly captures the essence of what I'm trying to convey as few others could:


Now imagine spending 30-60 minutes there.

I end up parking several blocks away. San Francisco. Love it. As I stroll uphill, I pass several tour buses. Apparently some artist must be playing a nearby venue.

As I walk, I pass by a long line of pasty, black-clad teens. OK. Must be some sort of doom/goth/metal/industrial outfit. The kind with long hair, distortion, and Cookie Monster vocals. Piercings and dyed hair. Fat dudes standing next to waifish girls with incredible racks. Bulky dudes with "Security" windbreakers stand on the corners and help the guys with the laminated passes find the side entrance.

I sigh. The good old days. I remember being the kids waiting in line. And I remember being the guys on the bus, too.

Into Guitar Center I go. I figure I'll go check out the state of the art in synthesizers. They're kept in the back room. Where apparently a single light bulb is working. Recession, I guess. In this black pit, there are no fewer than 3 keyboards with chattering, cheap-sounding drum loops spinning out of sync. I turn them off.

There isn't much to see. There are a few really nice boards set up, and a plethora of cheap synths that feel like toys but are priced under $500. Naturally, they're all missing knobs and still have the packing plastic stuck on top of their buttons. It's just depressing. I bust out some Erik Satie on the Nord Stage Piano.

Time to go, I have to get to the gym, and this place smells like old socks and flop sweat.

The mic stands are up in the front, by the guitar pedals. Guitar Center carries 3 different mic stands, priced at $39, $49, and $59 each. The difference? Well, it's hard to tell, because they're all in boxes. Ask the help? They don't know. But I do.

Pro tip: Cheap mic stands aren't worth it. Pay the extra $10 or $20 and get something that will last. The cheap mic stands will strip their screws and leave you with a floppy boom that no amount of Viagra or duct tape will fix. And don't over-tighten them.

I load up with 3 mic stands and flop them on the counter. Which is when the longhair behind the counter asks if he can help me. "Yeah, you can ring these up for me." We move to the other register on the other side of the store. Why? I don't know.

I am subjected to the "receipt check" and allowed to leave the store. Now I have to carry these mic stands back to the car. I pass the kids standing in line for the metal show, pass the tour buses all in a row. My arms are tired.

I miss the days when I didn't have to deal with this stuff. When I had people. Walking by the kids and the buses, I just feel old. Another weekend musician dropping cash on the boring stuff: Mic stands. Guitar strings. Cables. A strap.

It's like that sometimes. The road isn't easy, but it's the one I'm on.

The Pants Reboot, and a Dream

Reboot

Last night the nearly-complete 2010 model of Sid Luscious and The Pants rehearsed for the first time.

Getting a band back together and playing for the first time is always a little nerve-racking. It's like meeting an old lover.

Will they be so fat they're nearly unrecognizable?

Will they be shockingly ageless?

Hotter than ever?

Appropriately, The Pants are like putting on your favorite pair of old jeans.

Dante's got a new drum kit. Pony's got hair again (and I think it's his, this time). Foxx Trott is holding down the low end. Naturally, there's a new keyboard player. We sounded surprisingly good, and by the time our big festival gig comes up, we'll be in fighting trim.

The Dream

I slept well last night. I had a dream.

I was in a house. It had recently been renovated. New bathrooms, with beautiful, soft white towels with teal stripes. New carpet that felt like beach sand beneath my feet. New paint on the walls. A few pieces of elegant, minimal furniture in the rooms - coming or going? Either someone had recently moved out or was about to move in, or both.

Oddly enough, balled-up newspapers and magazines were stuffed in all the air vents.

I heard voices as I wandered through. Out the windows I could see trees gently waving in a Spring breeze.

I found people in the living room, waiting for me. Some dead friends and relatives, drinking wine and chatting. My parents, together, and happy - before my near-success and the money and everything else drove them apart.

I was suffused with a tremendous and rare sense of peace and well-being. And as the alarm sounded reveille and the dream began to fade, I finally realized where I was:

Home.

Home.

So many people have come and gone

Their faces fade as the years go by

Yet I still recall as I wander on

As clear as the sun in the summer sky...

The Monroes: A Story of The Music Biz

It's no secret the music biz has always been a

"

a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs."

With a negative side, too.

Case Study: The Monroes.

These guys got together. Typical So-Cal dudes who loved playing music. They found a guy with an amazing voice. Name of Jesus Ortiz. Some folks will tell you he renamed himself "Tony Monroe" because all the guys in the band were adopting "Monroe" names as an anagrammatic play on "The Ramones". But part of it is A&R guys wouldn't sign a rock band with a guy with a Hispanic name fronting it.

They write some songs. They play out. They start to generate interest. They sign with a label based in Japan: Alfa Records. They go into the studio and record a fantastic EP, which features a song called "What Do All The People Know?"

"What Do All The People Know?" is a masterpiece of pop songwriting. The melody is strong, the harmonies are pretty. It's catchy. It's everything you want in a song, and it sounds exactly like the 80s.

So this track starts getting tons of local airplay. The kind where you can feel the wave building and you know it's going to break and fling you to the next level in your career. I've felt that wave tug at my heels more than a few times in my life, but never with the force The Monroes must have felt. Probably because I have yet to write a song as good as "What Do All The People Know?"

"You know I told you once tonight that you could always speak your mind

You work so hard to say what's right

I watch you do it all the time"

That's how the song starts, those ambiguous and surprising words sung in a tone melancholy, pleading, and accusing...over a rather peppy synth intro. The song builds from there, piling hook upon hook.

Could you be the girl I really love?

All the people tell me so

But what do all the people know?

That's the chorus, and I love that twist, that question. So surprising. It's full of wonder, but spiced with suspicion. We've all been there, in a new love's first early rush. Your friends all say "you are perfect for each other". They're all trying to push you together. But what do they know? Especially since they only see a small bit of the relationship. And then when you think you understand the narrator and the song, the bridge hits:

Do you think I'm blind to what you do?

Do you think I really care for you?

Or is it just another game

That you and I pretend to play

Do you think we both should let it show?

Do you think we both should let it go?

Or is it just another game

That you and I pretend to play

Just brilliant. I feel it captures that wary circling and feinting of two loves so well. Plus the song has handclaps.

So they're starting to plan tours - they've opened for the big acts of the day: Toto, Rick Springfield, and Greg Kihn. They're starting to think about a video. They're on the Mike Douglas Show (the Oprah of its day).

And then the bottom falls out of their world: Their Japanese label withdraws from the US market. While they're on tour. Their record is at #56 on the top 100. But now they have no money, no tour...they don't even have records to sell.

After a depressing year of regrouping, they manage to get signed to Columbia, but their spirits are sort of broken. Columbia won't release any of their music, and the band can't get out of the deal. They're stuck. They can't write any songs, their audience has vanished. The wave recedes, and the band slowly disintegrates.

They break up and go their separate ways, and the world never gets to see what else they would have done. MTV would have probably crushed these guys anyhow. By the time they were ready to blow up, video was king. These guys were amazing musicians, but they certainly weren't going to compete with Duran Duran, or even A Flock of Seagulls in the image department.

Here they are. The video is from their appearance on the Mike Douglas Show, but it's been edited to fit the recording of the song.

Monroes, I salute you. You guys were amazing. You deserved better!

Welcome Back, Adam Ant!

Music blog The Quietus has a nice interview up with Adam Ant - You'll recall I wrote at length about him. Well worth a read! It's good to have him back.

When you get a number one

The only way is down

And if you have a sticky patch

They start looking, start looking around

In the night when things go bump

Think of me think

Here comes the grump, here comes the grump

Doctors said "Adam, sex kills"

So come inside and die

- "Here Comes The Grump", Adam Ant

Chilly B is Gone

Just found out that Bob Crafton, a.k.a. "Chilly B", died. He was one of the founders of Newcleus, known for their great songs "Jam On It" and "Space Is The Place".

I remember hearing "Jam On It" on DC radio when I was a kid. Blew my mind. So funky, so futuristic. I made my own DJ scratch dubs of the track. Wanted to get a synthesizer. Wanted to rap.

Check it out. Hear the icy cold synths and beats brush up against the warmth and joy of the vocals. Electro and rap. So far ahead of its time. Envisioning a future of hope, rather than glorifying hopelessness, guns, and drugs.

Look at that video - that's the joy of music, people. I've been looking for a band, a platform, and a vibe like that for most of my life.

Chilly B is featured at about 1:45. Dig that classic rap cadence and voice. Old school, obviously raised on Kurtis Blow. As Greg Kihn said, "they don't write 'em like that anymore". As Shakespeare said "he was a man, take him for all in all. We shall not look upon his like again."


Newcleus-Jam On It

Whatever happened to T What?!

Yesterday I was downtown, looking for some replacement parts for one of my precision Italian sports cars. Someone comes up to me, and I know the drill - I'm expecting to be asked for an autograph. I figure I can acknowledge that I'm me. I'm all set. And then they say

"What's T What!? doing these days?"

Oh. Sure, T What!?. Stunt guitarist for The Pants. I mentioned that he had been doing some traveling and working on a solo project. But I haven't heard from him in a while, so back at the Pantmansion, I got on the go-phone and tracked him down.

The short answer:

Music for the Holidaze

Hey Kids. Sid here. It's "The Holidays". Nearly.

I don't know what you think of when you think of Christmas, but here's what I think of: Disappointment. Tension. Yeah, I have a few memories of opening some toy I wanted, but those are fading just like the photographs of the days my parents probably can't find anymore.

I do remember my aunt and uncle gave me some of my first music - "Tattoo You" by the Rolling Stones. "Tusk" by Fleetwood Mac.

Christmas, 1983. The band is still in the studio, working on "Life, Style..." On Christmas Day. Hoping to finish so we can go home for dinner. I'm in the vocal booth, having just finished the lyrics and vocals for "Last Song", which was also the last song we were working on.

The album was ready for mixing, and we already had a rough up. The phone rings. It's the label guy. We were being dropped. The album was never going to come out. He was claiming we cost too much money and weren't going to recoup. There were other reasons, too, but I'm not going into them here.

Over a year of hard work, and our whole teenage lives, gone. The band leaves the control room to go smoke or drink or cry or whatever. They don't notice me still in the vocal booth, in the dark. I slip out the back, my Schott leather jacket barely keeping the chill off. I walk nearly a mile before I can hail a cab and just tell him to drive...and I disappear for a long, long time.

There are other Christmases I could write about with similar stories, but instead, I'll focus on the positive.

In July of 1983 back when The Pants were still The Next Big Thing, we were asked to participate in some network Christmas special. I think Carl Sagan was hosting or involved or something. I remember Ewoks or Muppets or Gremlins or Goonies. It's all a little vague. The band couldn't make it, but the agent insisted that I did. So I turned up and did a nice little rendition of "Winter Wonderland".

Of course, after the band was dropped, they cut the segment from the special and it never aired (if anyone ever finds a YouTube video, please let me know!). But I managed to dig up a copy. We were going to put it on a flexi and send it out to the fan club.

Hope you like it, and Merry Holidays.

Dancing With The Stars

So my manager calls me yesterday. Yes, I was surprised, too. I thought he was dead, or at least playing dead. But it was really him. Of course...bad news.

He tells me it turns out they "made a mistake" on my taxes. Supposedly I owe Uncle Sam...well, let's just say it's a lot. But he's got it figured out. He's got me booked on "Dancing With The Stars". Cash plus promo. "Really?" I say, that's actually great!

"Well...it's not exactly 'Dancing With The Stars', but it's close" he says. "Oh, that other one, 'So You Think You Can Dance?'" He pauses and says "...not exactly."

This continues for a bit. Long story short, it's filmed "overseas" and it's "on the Internet". Whatever. The important thing is I end up making money (and surprise, so does my agent).

Now I have to learn what the kids are calling dancing these days. So I got this video:

Yeah. Good news is this ain't exactly learning the Virginia Reel (though I can do that, too. Thank you, elementary school!) Also I think I now have all the song titles for my next solo album!

Humans and Bands

Jay Reatard fired his whole band. As you can see, Jay's a class act.

Been there, though. Sometimes you gotta give 'em the boot. They have a job to do, they're supposed to do it. In Jay's case, they're not "contributing". Jay writes the music. The band is named after him - it's his group.

It's not easy managing a band. It's somewhere between running a volunteer organization and being married to multiple partners. A tricky balance, requiring a wide personnel/personal skill set.

Many bands like to talk about how they're "democracies" where everyone writes and contributes to the music, vision, etc. It's true some bands do work this way, but very few. Or at least very few successful bands.

Look, Picasso didn't have a bunch of other people coming in to doodle on "Les Demoiselles d'Avignon". Shakespeare and Stephen King didn't have some of their teenage school friends dropping by to scribble a few lines or tell them they didn't think the second verse "worked". Frank Lloyd Wright didn't bring in some "session architects" to add some parts to the Johnson Wax building.

Heard of "the auteur theory"? It applies to bands, too. I've met a lot of band members and musicians in my day. Hell, I've been a lot of band members and musicians in my day. Mostly they want to stand in the back and play. And sleep with the significant others of the rest of the band members. Sure, they're all egomaniacs, but not all of them crave the spotlight enough to do the work.

But they're still people. Messy, fucked up people. So here's the inevitable solution.

To be honest, this isn't exactly new. When The Pants were touring through Germany, Florian from Kraftwerk got a little tore up on schnapps and gin and started talking about how he was going to replace his whole band with what he called "Bandroids".

Typically, he was overreaching and way beyond what the technology could deliver - he talked about creating an entire label of Bandroid acts, eventually evolving things to what he called "maschine für maschine" - music by and for machines. Then he started talking about robot bicycles. I left him with T What?! and went back to the bar. That's all I remember.

Anyhow. Bandroids replacing humans - it's closer than we think!

Peter Hook Faked Ian Curtis' Autograph. Piker!

So Hooky admits that, maybe, you know, a couple of times he might have faked Ian Curtis' autograph.
Yeah, so what. To tell you the truth, I've faked Hooky's signature. Also Simon LeBon's, Mike Score's, Cy Curnin's, Jonathan Brandis', and once, when I was real messed up, Kevin Bacon's.

Every time, I managed to snag something between a fin and a Benjamin. Here's how it goes down: It's pretty much always night time. I'm out at a restaurant or club, keeping a low profile. Some giggly woman comes up and says "excuse me, are you Peter Hook?".

I smile, affect a terrible English accent, and reply "of course, luv." They start gushing about how much they love New Order and inevitably a request for an autograph follows, with a shakily extended piece of paper.

I look to one side as I'm pulling the Sharpie I always carry out of my pocket and say "sure, 20 bucks". More or less, depending on how I'm feeling.

Now before you all get up in arms, every successful singer I know does this. When you're almost famous, you get recognized all the time - just as somebody else. In the mid 90's L.A., I couldn't leave the house without getting "recognized" as actor Jonathan Brandis. Of course, the more you deny it, the more they're sure you're him.

The best part about this is that everybody wins. I get some cash and/or free drinks. The fan gets a special experience and a good story. And Hooky gets taken down a peg, because inevitably said fan will tell everyone he charged them for an autograph!

Anyhow, in today's music business, the conventional wisdom is "the music is now free, so sell what can't be copied". You know what can't be copied? Special moments. A connection between an artist and a fan. And also my faked version of Simon LeBon's signature.

Some of my more-broke musician friends think this is appalling. They think it should be about the music or something. They say musicians are supposed to produce music, not meet-and-greets, dinner dates, web chats, and (possibly faked) signatures. Then they try to sell me a t-shirt.

But sports fans have no problem standing in line for hours for an autograph factory like A-Rod at a "sports convention", and that's after buying tickets to games for hundreds of dollars. The secondary market for memorabilia is blowing up. Why can't I get in on this?

Music's being downloaded for free, like it or not. I gotta get paid somehow, like all my friends who play guitar. While I was "missing", I know people were passing around fake Sid Luscious merch, bootlegs, and so forth. Not to mention all the 80s band who ripped off my sound and look. I think of this as karmic (and actual) payback. What's a pop star to do?

And let me tell you, some of these people that come up to you and ask for autographs, these "fans" - they're creepy as hell. No musician will admit it in print, but most of them are terrified when people come up and start freaking out about how much they love you and how great they think your music is.

What's going through our heads is "Mark David Chapman". What we're not saying is "that song you think is so special? I wrote that in about 15 minutes because we needed 4 more minutes of material on the album."

And don't for a minute think that the "signature" on these things looks like how we actually sign our names. We aren't letting you fake up checks and credit card applications - I made that mistake once. Ok, twice.

Look, I've met lots of famous musicians. Most of them were boring. Or jerks. Yeah, a few were real nice (Eddie Van Halen tops this list). But I never once deluded myself into thinking they'd remember me, and that on the off chance we met again they'd say "hey, how are you, Sid?" Ed gave me a guitar and an amplifier once, but I still bet he couldn't pick me out of a police line-up (actually, I'm banking on that!)

Never confuse the art with the artist. The best thing you can do is simply say "thanks for the music" and walk on. That's all we want. If you want a "connection", buy a CD. Go see a show. Or just make up a story for your friends.

Bassist Audition Tape [Updated]

Man, y'all do NOT understand the trouble involved with being a (former) rock star. I'm still dealing with line-up changes and people either leaving for other projects or, more likely, a bunch of wannabes trying to hop on my shiny silver coattails for a quick ride to the B-List.

Case in point: Somehow word got out that I might be looking for a new bass player. Don't ask me how. The end result? My inbox is now full of videos like this:

In the old days, I'd just get a cassette with a headshot or a polaroid, and the odd bit of glitter, weed, or broken glass (for "cred"). Now I gotta look at this while I'm trying to wake up?

I should have been an investment banker!

UPDATE: My friend Adam Tober (who is fluent in Japanese) just told me the title of this song translates as "Drink Milk! Do Not Drink Milk!" and at the end is some sort of disclaimer about drinking milk. Go figure.

Pantemonium! in progress: Older Woman

This track has a heavy Michael Jackson influence. Thought I would tip my shiny hat to the one-gloved master. I hope he's far from pressure and Post-It notes now.

I wanted to try to write something with a little more soul while simultaneously paying tribute to some of our hardest-core fans. Make no mistake - I love the older women. Look at Farrah Fawcett. Smokin' until the end. There are too many to name.

Still on track to have the new album finished before summer's over. Dante's going to paint up a nice cover.

Tell us what you think.

Older Woman (mix 09) MP3

Michael Jackson - Exit, Stage Right

The dissection and autopsy of Michael Jackson’s life and career will be duly carried out by sources more dispassionate and morbid than me, so I’ll try to be brief.

Dude was weird, no question. But nice, friendly, polite. At least to outsiders. That may seem like a funny thing to talk about, but you’d be surprised at how many famous people (especially the young ones) are complete jerks.

As for the weird, you’d be weird, too, if you had the upbringing he did. I experienced my own bit of precocious youth pressure back in the days of The Short Pants, trying to balance “academic excellence” with “making hit records” and chasing girls. But it was nothing compared to what he went through. The awful family situation. Worse was the early success and life in the spotlight.

I keep thinking about this Rolling Stone article I read back in the late 80s before “Bad” came out. The writer had followed Jackson around and had noticed a Post-It note in his bathroom that just had “100” written on it. (Jackson was way into the motivational Post-It notes).

He asked what that meant, and Jackson replied “I am going to sell 100 million copies of ‘Bad’ – that’s what it means.”

At that time, Thriller had sold about 40 million, making it (for a long time) by far the biggest-selling album ever. It had cameo appearances by Eddie Van Halen, Paul McCartney, and Vincent Price. It was promoted with a fantastic live performance broadcast on TV and backed up by a series of groundbreaking videos. And it hit at a time when the record industry badly needed a modern, catchy, optimistic record with broad appeal.

Thriller would go on to sell 100 million copies.

In short, it wasn’t just a once-in-a-lifetime event, it was a once-in-an-industry event. And Michael Jackson was convinced his next record (ominously named “Bad”) was going to do 2.5 times the business.

Kid stars have it the worst – they grow up knowing nothing but the spotlight. They’re forced to grow up in front of everyone, fumbling for new identities as teens, young adults, and finally, mature adults. I don’t know that Michael ever acknowledged he was getting older. The pressure he placed on himself was enormous.

He didn’t just want to be the best singer and dancer, or write big hits (and unlike many pop stars who take publishing/writing credit in exchange for recording, Michael did write many of his hits - he wrote the main riff for “Beat It”, among other things). He wanted to transform himself and went far to do it. I’m sure the physical, mental and emotional pain he kept himself in was not pleasant.

The kids. Nobody but Michael knows for sure what went on. But when you get to be that rich and that famous, and you’ve been that way your whole life, you can’t trust anyone over 13. Every time you allow yourself to meet someone new, you’re asking “Are they interested in me, the person, or my fame? Or my money? Or something else? Is this a trap?” Hanging out with kids too young to understand his life was the closest he could get to real human interaction. I’m sure he knew it was sort of messed up, too. Think about what that knowledge must have done to him as well.

I hope he is finally free of his demons and those goddamn Post-It notes. If nothing else, he’s at least free of the spotlight.

When I think of Michael Jackson, I think of a summer dance in 1982. His voice echoing off the walls of a Duke University gymnasium, as I danced into the night. I've never been sweatier, funkier, or more lost in the music.

Every night I step up to the microphone and The Pants fire into another song, I am chasing that one moment.
Billie Jean
Wanna Be Startin' Something
Shake Your Body Down To The Ground
Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough
Leave Me Alone

Pantemonium continues: Love Makes You Real

This week's track-in-progress is "Love Makes You Real".

Close-to-final mix here.

I really like this one. Not just because the chicks go nuts for it, either. Makes me feel sorta lump-in-the-throat when I sing it sometimes. Lots hidden away in such a tiny little song.

Comments?

I was made a hollow man
My head all stuffed with fluff
I thought that was enough
Gears and machinery and fear inside of me
I thought that's all there was to be
I never felt a thing
I never had to sing
I never laughed or cried
I never wondered why

I wonder where you are now
You showed me how to laugh to cry to feel alive
You showed me
Love makes you real

Have you ever felt like you forgot something important
but you can't remember what?
Have you ever had a broken heart?
The kind where it cuts so deep you don't want it to stop?

Sometimes it hurts
It feels like you might burst
But once you're real, you can't go back
Once you're real, it lasts

I want you
I need you now
You showed me how to laugh
to cry
to feel alive
Love makes you real

(C) 2005 Erich Zahn Music (ASCAP)

The Best Song I've Ever Written

Pantemonium! is coming. Work is proceeding slowly, but it is proceeding. Drummer Dante is headed back in for more hand surgery today (we're all wishing him luck) and T What!? is still in China touring with acrobats or whatever his solo project entails.

Me? I've been in the studio mixing.

I'd like to present what I believe is The Best Song I've Ever Written. It's called Summer's Promise. This is the current rough mix. I wrote this song back in 2005. It's based on a true story, as are many of my songs.

The lyrics may be a little corny, but I love the feeling. The melody, the keyboard line, the guitar parts - I don't know how it turned out so good, but I'll take it.

Let me know what you think. Snare drum is too loud or something. But it's very close to done.

It was June and July, it was her and me
It was meant to be
When the heat of the day became the heat of the night
We held each other tight
And we danced
All summer long
And we sang
All summer long

But vacations end and it was time to go
Returning home
On my own
All that year I carried the mark of Summer's promise
On my heart
I would wait for Summer to come
Counting days
Until they all were gone

But Summer's promise never meant to last
She gave her heart and then she took it back
People change and the world spins so fast
Summer's promise never meant to last

Next June arrived
And so did I
With a flower and a smile for her
But the look on her face told me everything had changed
We never talked about it
But there was no doubt

And to this day, I have a scar
Where her promise broke
and cut my heart
and I cried
All summer long

Summer's promise never meant to last
She gave her heart and then she took it back
Feelings change and shatter like glass
Summer's promise never meant to last

(C) 2005 Erich Zahn Music

ZZ Top - Grandfathers of Electronica and Electroclash

ZZ Top are criminally underrated. Seriously.

The 3 Texans have had careers longer than most musicians have lives - they started playing together in 1869. They've been savvy enough to get way rich without selling out - they turned down $1 million each from Gillette to shave their beards. They've been doing exactly what they want longer than anyone can remember and people love them for it.

Everyone knows they're cool. But they don't get the respect they deserve, especially these days. Yeah, yeah, they're in the Rock n'Roll Hall of Fame. Don't hold that against them - it doesn't count for anything, and the kids today haven't managed to pick up on how awesome they are. They're too busy listening to Journey and Duran Duran.

ZZ Top never cared what anyone else thought and still doesn't. They played their blues-roots rock for something like 100 years. They wrote great, slightly dirty songs like "I'm Bad...I'm Nationwide", "Tush", and "La Grange".

And then they started getting weird.

They made an album called "Eliminator". Maybe they were bored after making several dozen solid blues-rock records, each with super-solid singles. Perhaps they were savvy enough to understand what tastes were changing to in the 1980s. I like to think it was instinctual rather than calculated.

For "Eliminator", drummer Frank Beard played to a click track and synced and mixed his live drums with a Linn Drum. They took their buzzing distorted guitars and mixed buzzing sawtooth synthesizers in, chugging sequences augmenting the chugging guitars and bass. It's a breathtaking combo, which sounds both raw and polished, timeless and modern.

"Eliminator" sold over 10 million copies, becoming one of the first albums to be certified "Diamond" by the RIAA. Also one of the last, because since the music business threw itself out a window and genres splintered into a million shards, nobody buys records like that anymore.

A big portion of the album's success came from the fantastic videos they made to go along with it. "Gimme All Your Lovin'", "Sharp Dressed Man", and "Legs" were the quintessential MTV videos. The band appeared, driving the car on the cover of the album. There were (by 80s standards) high production values, short stories of the band turning ordinary losers into cool people, and of course, hot chicks.

ZZ Top - New Music - More Music Videos

These videos, for all intents and purposes, were the 80s. You wanted to be one of the people in the video. Or grew up looking to find people like the ones in the video to sleep with. The videos supported rather than upstaged or ignored the music. They kept similar cast and stories so the videos all felt part of a piece.

They managed to parlay their success into a song on the hottest movie series of the 80s - the Back To The Future trilogy. And they followed up "Eliminator" with an even more synthesized album, "Afterburner".

Not as charming as the previous record, "Afterburner" sort of sounded like the band on autopilot. But that was also perfect for the 80s zeitgeist. It had more of everything, and some big hits as well. "Rough Boy" is particularly nice, with a clear influence from Herbie Hancock's "Rockit" video, and an icy take on a pop blues ballad.

ZZ Top - New Music - More Music Videos

So what's so special about ZZ Top? Well, since their big breakthrough on "Eliminator", countless other rock bands have tried to combine drum machines, synthesizers, and guitars. The bands who have tried to duplicate ZZ Top's brilliant sound include:

• Def Leppard. Their albums with "Mutt" Lange actually surpassed ZZ Top's in technological achievement and sales, but without any of the quirky fun.
• Jesus Jones. They don't know it, but they owe a debt to ZZ Top
• Nine Inch Nails. Trent acts like he's the first guy to think a drum machine and a distorted guitar would go great together, or that a clever video would help sell a record. Sorry, man. ZZ Top FTW.

I could go on, but I don't need to shame anyone else. They know who they are. Stealing from the greats without paying respect. But not Sid. I love ZZ Top. I owe them.

I ran into Billy Gibbons at a party I crashed in the Hollywood hills in 1991. He did not look well, but I suspect he had probably crashed the party, too. I wanted to tell him how much I liked his music, but he was just so cool and there...I couldn't bring myself to get close enough to say anything.

If I could have said anything, I would have said "I want to ride in the car. I want the hot chicks in the animal prints to do unspeakable things with me. I want to be transformed by the power of rock into the cooler version of me I know is in there. I want to drive down a dusty road to a brick loft with neon and Nagel prints on the walls and an old refrigerator full of beer. And thanks for the music."

Alas, it was not to be. Should I be fortunate enough to be graced with the opportunity again, I will not fail. I will tell him that I, too, am bad...and nationwide.

ZZ Top still around, they're still playing. I suspect they'll be rocking in another hundred years. Rick Rubin is producing their new album. Despite Rick's continuing self-cartoonification, I look forward to hearing what ZZ Top sounds like in AC/DC drag.

Until then, check out this short playlist for an example of their unmitigated awesomeness.

Sharp Dressed Man
I Need You Tonight
Rough Boy
I'm Bad, I'm Nationwide
Tush
Tube Snake Boogie
La Grange

Anu releases "Overcast"

My close friend Anu has released a new album called "Overcast". It's sorta dark and depressing modern rock.

He asked me what I thought of it and I said "Dude, it sounds like music to not get laid to. I'm not saying it's bad, I'm just sayin' the people probably won't like it much".

Anyhow, apparently you can download it from http://www.chillproductions.com/anu/RPM2009/Overcast.zip.

Schon & Hammer - "No More Lies"

Fans, friends, females - My biggest showbiz apologies for not blogging more. And for not playing, writing, and recording more.

Dante the drummer is all but completely recovered. However, guitar "player" T What!? has gone to China for 6 months to study guzheng with the masters. It is likely we will do at least one show while he's gone. And the band is still working on the new album.

What I'll be doing (and why you need to at least RSS feed this site!):

• Writing about our influences once a week (like the Julian Cope and Adam Ant articles)
• Posting more tracks, including in-progress demos
• Booking a few shows

In the meantime, please enjoy this video. Featuring Neal "Journey" Schon and Jan "Miami Vice" Hammer. It couldn't be anymore 80s (nor the song more derivative of "Hit Me With Your Best Shot"). I also appreciate Jan's look. He's like "Yeah, I look like the camera operator. So what? Watch me play this keytar!"

I find it hilarious that 20+ years later, all of today's indie musicians out there decided that, of these 2 guys, the look that said "ROCK" and "GET CHICKS" to them was Jan Hammer's!


Special thanks to Solid Gold JP Lester for sending this my way.