Thanks my Man!

Uhg...they've been saying this shit since Jovan Musk sponsored the Stones tour in 1981.

>But we know we’ve been abandoned, that
>the contract has been	
>broken. 

The contract is, if you make something I like, I buy it. If I don't like it, I don't buy it. That's why I own Let It Bleed but not Bridges to Babylon.
I owe the Stones nothing, and they don't owe me anything either.

Pseudo-intellectual psycho-babble.
Back to the '60's, you dope smoking hippie!

>----- ------- Original Message ------- -----
>From: jlmicek@verizon.net
>To: rob@splitsville.com
>Sent: Wed, 09 Apr 2008 21:30:53
>
>> Would like to see the original post from L, just
>as a goof. Too  
>> lazy to search for it. I'm sure he carries
>himself with great,  
>> ahem, 'dignity'.
>>
>
>Who loves ya, baby?
>Here's the full post:
>>
>
>She’s Not There
> From The Belly Of The Beast
>The Keith Richards Ad
>
>Used to be, no one could make as much money as a
>rock star.
>
>Baseball players were hobbled by the reserve
>clause.  Basketball  
>hadn’t known Larry or Magic, Dr. J was not
>ubiquitous.  As for  
>football…the players were expendable, and coaches
>didn’t make the  
>money, but owners.  Hedge funds had not been
>invented yet.	Or, if	
>they had, they were not the domain of
>thirtysomething whiz kids, but  
>old farts no one wanted to hang around with, who
>worked at brokerage  
>houses.  As for the CEO…  He might end up with a
>cool million come  
>tax time, but he could never get rich.  To be
>wealthy you had to be	
>an entrepreneur, or a rock star.
>
>The rock star was usually uneducated.	He did not
>listen to his	
>parents and prepare for the future.  He smoked
>cigarettes and skipped  
>school.  Stealing what he needed to pursue his
>passion, music.  If he  
>was talented, and lucky, he got a deal with a
>label, and after  
>slaving in the studio for mere hours, the end
>product was brought to  
>the radio station, where in a matter of weeks, if
>not days, the	
>musician could become world famous, a star.
>
>This path appealed to not only downtrodden
>Englishmen, but Americans  
>too.  The fact that you could pick up a guitar and
>suddenly become  
>king caused musical instrument sales to skyrocket. 
>Everybody wanted  
>a chance at this lottery, akin to the California
>gold rush.
>
>And the public paid attention.  Not only was the
>music vital, the  
>personalities were outsized.  These were the real
>James Deans.  Doing  
>whatever they pleased.  Not worried about
>convention.  Drinkin’ and  
>druggin’ and fuckin’…  Everybody wanted to
>play.
>
>Your father might not know who Led Zeppelin was,
>but the band could  
>sell out arenas from coast to coast, taking home
>millions for its  
>efforts.  The pull was so strong that tours added
>stadium dates.   
>55,000 people would show up to partake of the seamy
>goodness that was  
>rock and roll, with the ragtag bunch of society’s
>losers as  
>cheerleaders.	Yes, the losers had become
>winners…  Who wouldn’t  
>smile at that?
>
>With the profits came the conglomerates.  Elektra
>and Atlantic joined  
>the corporate fold.  A formula, known as corporate
>rock, was defined  
>and acts sold millions until the whole scene
>imploded but was then	
>rescued by MTV, which generated sales heretofore
>unknown.
>
>But the culture was the station, not the act.	The
>product was the  
>single, not the album.  The value was what was on
>the screen as much  
>as what entered your ears.  Despite the gargantuan
>sales, aided by  
>the introduction of CDs, the kernel, the core, the
>essence of the  
>music was lost.  It was like the rope tying the
>boat to the dock had  
>slipped free, but we couldn’t yet see the
>impending disaster, it took  
>years to find out we were adrift.
>
>Which we are.
>
>You might rail against the profiteers in the
>financial community, but  
>they’re keeping the money, they’re not giving
>it back.  And a small	
>cadre of executives, who sit on each other’s
>boards, have run up  
>executive compensation to a height no mere musician
>can reach.  And  
>sports stars might have brief careers, but they
>rival the length of  
>most musicians’ salad days, if they don’t
>exceed them.  Suddenly,  
>it’s all topsy-turvy, musicians have gone from
>the top of the heap to  
>the bottom.  Players are court jesters once again. 
>Tools of the  
>man.  Fighting for evanescent scraps.
>
>This would be fine if the oldsters didn’t still
>exist.  If their  
>classic records were not still encased in wax, in
>0’s and 1’s, fully  
>playable.  It’s easy to see how it once was, to
>realize what has been	
>lost.	Those still raking in the bucks, at this
>point, only the  
>corporate infrastructure, the label heads and the
>agents, say that  
>nothing has changed, that today’s music is just
>as vital, that the  
>scene is healthy.  But music is a reflection of
>society.  And ours is	
>one of instant fame, of money-grubbing.  Nothing
>lasts, we don’t take  
>anything too seriously.  We want to pull our stars
>down into the hole  
>we’re in.
>
>But maybe the pinball machine is on tilt.  Maybe
>someone has hit the  
>reset button.	Maybe all those exotic financial
>products have fallen  
>by the wayside.  It’s even cheaper to record than
>it was in the	
>heyday, and distribution might be a vast maze, but
>the tools are in  
>the hands of the musicians.  Maybe, the heyday can
>return.
>
>If it’s about the music.  And the drugs.  And the
>women.  If we can  
>revere our stars as rebels, not tools of the man. 
>If the music is  
>not made for the radio, but for the audience.	If
>the easy way is the  
>road less taken.
>
>I’d say that Keith Richards posing for a Louis
>Vuitton ad is the end	
>of the world as we know it, but it just shows that
>the money has	
>superseded the music.	That Keith’s given up.
>
>They can foist a movie upon us.  The Stones can
>play the Super Bowl,  
>badly.  But we know we’ve been abandoned, that
>the contract has been	
>broken.  We need to believe, and we can’t believe
>in someone in bed  
>with our enemy, big business which has oppressed
>us, saying we need  
>their products to play, to compete, when nothing
>could be further  
>from the truth.
>
>There’s an underclass in America.  Fighting for
>recognition, fighting	
>to get ahead.	Its playground is no longer Top
>Forty radio, not even	
>underground FM, but the Internet.  I’d like to
>tell you I can foresee  
>the future, but alas, all I can see is the
>possibilities.
>
>They say everybody sells out today.  That you
>can’t make it without  
>the man.  I say no one is offering the customer an
>endorsement deal.   
>That your only hope of success is to get in bed
>with your customer.   
>This requires honesty, and excitement.  It requires
>you to be a role  
>model.  Maybe of debauchery, but someone your
>audience can look up to  
>nonetheless.