Another sad thing they never tell you is that when you really connect with a band when you're grown up nobody cares and there's no culture of peers around you with whom you can share the emotions, and if you do try you're just some weirdo.
Something tells me Neil Young hasn’t left Beck’s turntable since last fall’s Bridge School Benefit duet, as today brings a one-off soundtrack cut with Harvest-era inspiration to spare. Hear his contribution to Jeff Who Lives At Home above. It’s been four years since his last studio LP, but with tunes like this and last year’s John Martyn cover kicking around, I, for one, don’t mind waiting while Beck searches for a “Heart of Gold.”
“If love is truly going out of fashion forever, which I do not believe, then along with our nurtured indifference to each other will be an even more contemptuous indifference to each others’ objects of reverence. I thought it was Iggy, you thought it was Joni Mitchell or whoever else seemed to speak for your own private, entirely circumscribed situation’s many pains and few ecstasies. We will continue to fragment in this manner, because solipsism holds all the cards at present; it is a king whose domain engulfs even Elvis’. But I can guarantee you one thing: we will never again agree on anything as we agreed on Elvis. So I won’t bother saying good-bye to his corpse. I will say good-bye to you.”—Lester Bangs’ famous obituary of Elvis Presley.
Google could still put ads in front of more people than Facebook, but Facebook knows so much more about those people. Advertisers and publishers cherish this kind of personal information, so much so that they are willing to put the Facebook brand before their own. Exhibit A: www.facebook.com/nike, a company with the power and clout of Nike putting their own brand after Facebook’s? No company has ever done that for Google and Google took it personally.
Larry Page himself assumed command to right this wrong. Social became state-owned, a corporate mandate called Google+. It was an ominous name invoking the feeling that Google alone wasn’t enough. Search had to be social. Android had to be social. You Tube, once joyous in their independence, had to be … well, you get the point. Even worse was that innovation had to be social. Ideas that failed to put Google+ at the center of the universe were a distraction.
I’ve been making records for well over 10 years. Small Steps, a record I’m quite proud of came out around now ten years ago. First record to get reviewed in the City Pages, first record to get on tour to support. First record to have to reprint. All good memories. All day tomorrow you can…
“To the people who are upset about their hard-earned tax money going to things they don’t like: Welcome to the fucking club…Reimburse me for the Iraq war and oil subsidies and diaphragms are on me!”—John Stewart
Of course, I’m watching last week’s ep to get caught up and will watch next week’s, but WHY? The promise of season one is so ancient as to be forgotten, and at this point the thing is a listless melodrama with production values.
Me:Hey man, I live far away from your dealership, but am interested in spending thousands of dollars at your establishment. Could you email me some pictures of that car on your lot that I like? The only ones that you have posted on the internet are all clearly stock photos.
Amazing Salesman:Our marketing guy will be here next week he can do that for you. Why don't you just come down and see it.
Me:Like I said, I live far away, like 500 miles away.
Amazing Salesman:Then you can just get here later on.
Me:Obviously, you sir, do not want to sell this car.
So Andrew Breitbart is dead. Here’s what I have to say to that, and I’m sure Breitbart himself would have respected this reaction: Good! Fuck him. I couldn’t be happier that he’s dead.
I say this in the nicest possible way. I actually kind of liked Andrew Breitbart. Not in the sense that I would ever have wanted to hang out with him, or even be caught within a hundred yards of him without a Haz-Mat suit on, but I respected the shamelessness. Breitbart didn’t do anything by halves, and even his most ardent detractors had to admit that he had a highly developed, if not always funny, sense of humor.