Sunday, November 09, 2003
hahahahahhahaha
Joel Selvin is now Senior Pop Music Critic, (just like Bonnie Raitt was no doubt efficiently and relentlessly tracked down a few years back by the AARP with a membership card offering. Be careful, Bonnie. Once they've found you, they're harder to lose than the NRA or alumnae associations).
Speaking of which, I know musicians still working today whose wives seriously suggest to their booking agents to use their 5% AARP discount on hotel rooms just to do something to keep tour costs down. And after years of selling megamillions, they now sweat giving away a single CD.
It was all so different once. If I am drawing from the charred memory banks correctly, I recall the time when Joel published one of his very first articles with the Chronicle, he filled in when Phil Elwood was on vacation.
I turned the pages as I sat on a padded stool at the long wooden table and read it one late morning at Kip's Smokehouse on Telegraph, the smell of cheeseburgers sizzling on the open grill and the hot buttered rum sauce that was poured over the hot apple pie served for breakfast mixed nicely in the air. Joel wanted to really sparkle on that one, and it was very well written.
Here's Joel now, still longing for the days of a decent cheeseburgie and getting crabby if not outright cranky about the imitation stuff offered by the world of entertainment today at Rock's Theme Parks.
Ok, I admit it thinking of how things are put together now can make me disgusted and angry. But it's also sometimes sad to me to think that all some younger music fans will ever know, remember, or write with misty nostalgia on their blogs about will be their early experiences: MTV, Clear Channel Radio, McSheds, or even the House of Blues.
Well, what can I say -- at least I had an interesting youth.
Maybe next episode I will tell you how I, in the role of an eager unofficial A&R person rounded up some musicians for what eventually became Freak Out. One a classical cellist recruited in a such a circuitous overly complex manner that only circumlocution could describe it. Another likely suspect encountered and sized up over a ... (I was about to say hot dog .. but that humble nomenclature would not describe what was better known on the menu as a "cha cha wa wa" at Der Weinerschnitzel where he was gainfully underemployed).
Or maybe I won't. I still have my moods.
¶ 11/09/2003 10:39:00 AM
Joel Selvin is now Senior Pop Music Critic, (just like Bonnie Raitt was no doubt efficiently and relentlessly tracked down a few years back by the AARP with a membership card offering. Be careful, Bonnie. Once they've found you, they're harder to lose than the NRA or alumnae associations).
Speaking of which, I know musicians still working today whose wives seriously suggest to their booking agents to use their 5% AARP discount on hotel rooms just to do something to keep tour costs down. And after years of selling megamillions, they now sweat giving away a single CD.
It was all so different once. If I am drawing from the charred memory banks correctly, I recall the time when Joel published one of his very first articles with the Chronicle, he filled in when Phil Elwood was on vacation.
I turned the pages as I sat on a padded stool at the long wooden table and read it one late morning at Kip's Smokehouse on Telegraph, the smell of cheeseburgers sizzling on the open grill and the hot buttered rum sauce that was poured over the hot apple pie served for breakfast mixed nicely in the air. Joel wanted to really sparkle on that one, and it was very well written.
Here's Joel now, still longing for the days of a decent cheeseburgie and getting crabby if not outright cranky about the imitation stuff offered by the world of entertainment today at Rock's Theme Parks.
Ok, I admit it thinking of how things are put together now can make me disgusted and angry. But it's also sometimes sad to me to think that all some younger music fans will ever know, remember, or write with misty nostalgia on their blogs about will be their early experiences: MTV, Clear Channel Radio, McSheds, or even the House of Blues.
Well, what can I say -- at least I had an interesting youth.
Maybe next episode I will tell you how I, in the role of an eager unofficial A&R person rounded up some musicians for what eventually became Freak Out. One a classical cellist recruited in a such a circuitous overly complex manner that only circumlocution could describe it. Another likely suspect encountered and sized up over a ... (I was about to say hot dog .. but that humble nomenclature would not describe what was better known on the menu as a "cha cha wa wa" at Der Weinerschnitzel where he was gainfully underemployed).
Or maybe I won't. I still have my moods.
¶ 11/09/2003 10:39:00 AM
