Who's The Boss

Okay, that's it! Brain, you're fired. From here on out, it's all heart. Never let me down. I'm gonna have to tell you, I haven't really relied on the thing all that often, anyway. If I have a purpose here, it's to serve. Wham! Don't ever withhold love. Folks out there need it.

Blah, blah

The stories are always the same. Sometimes I feel like I'm dropping names to impress somebody as though being in the vicinity of celebrity makes you special. The older I get, the less interest I have in the famous ones anyway.

You live a long time, though, and lots of folks do walk by. I suppose I started to think about it by the time I was four or five and my mom had managed to hold me up to the window of Roy Rogers' tour bus so that I could shake his hand. Then Uncle Reid managed to get me up close to the Lone Ranger at an air show so that I was able to get a mask from him.

Either working on bills with musicians or promoting concerts with them, I have worked with the Coasters, the Shangra Las, the Flatlanders, Sly and the Family Stone, Pete Seeger, Wilco, Jimi Hendrix, the Band, the Newbeats, Tommy Roe, the Allman Brothers, the Outlaws, Chuck Berry, Steve Earle, the Chambers Brothers, Dave Van Ronk, Bo Diddley, Michael Bloomfield, Judy Collins, the Byrds, Commander Cody & His Lost Planet Airmen, Gene Vincent, Sam The Sham and The Pharos, Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels, Bill Haley and The Comets, Van Morrison, John Mayall, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Steve Miller, Canned Heat, Donovan, Patti Smith, Rufus Wainwright, Ramblin' Jack Elliott, Wanda Jackson, the Dave Clark 5, the Atlanta Rhythm Section, Tiny Tim, Derek and the Dominoes, Janis Joplin, the Kinks, Pink Floyd, Billy Preston, the Beach Boys and so many, many more.

Yeah, there are stories. Some of them are pretty good. None of it matters. I've got better ones about pie. Oh, and love. I've got better ones about love.

My Last Memory

What if that was my last romance? What if no more songs get written? Be careful to make really good memories. We only have now. Right now.

Love better. Harder.

Cowboy Chords, Primary Colors and Babies With Broken Hearts

Some babies are born with broken hearts. If they never heal we refer to those individuals as "artists." It's not a good thing. Oh, it can be. We got Elvis in the deal. Thomas Wolfe, Sylvia Plath, James Dean, Ray Charles, Dorothy Parker. It's not a bad thing either, of course. They don't all grow up as geniuses.

Let me tell you this: if you're born to the caste, you can go to work for the bank; you can marry the boss' daughter; you can take a degree in law. Buddy, you're still an artist.

Don't waste your time on landscapes, hit records or big career moves. Zero in on love and count your lucky stars. It's where we got "What'd I Say," Starry Night and To Kill A Mockingbird.

Love harder. It's the only legacy that matters.

All's Well

Sometimes I describe myself as a patient man. Sometimes I have no patience at all. Now I find myself just floating in the ether and waiting to see where we're headed. I do know that we're all just where we're supposed to be and that everything is fine. Perfect, in fact.

It's a really small world. All of the secrets are in the rock'n'roll. Trust those voices. Don't settle for anything less than love.

Malachite Dust

How many times have I started over? Well, enough to know that it's all very doable. Why wait 'til New Year's? Why wait for the sun to come up?

Oh, I probably can't fix everything. I've only run into a few perfect people in my travels. I can, however, take care of some obvious shortcomings and I can start right away to make up for mistakes in my past.

Forgiving has always come easy for me. Forgetting? Not so much. I'm happy with memories but I could use some slimming down in the obsessing department. Right? Wrong? Who cares? When you color as far outside the lines as I do, you need to work on tolerance. Of course I like to think of myself as accepting and tolerant as it is. I don't need reminding that we all do. I guess I no longer need the two page notes from the girls in my seventh grade class or the four page memo from a wife packing to leave to know where there's room for improvement. Yeah, I get it.

Here's what I've got to work with. Honesty and love. If I can match that up with a couple of melodies to melt some stars I'll get you a new record and me a new start. Keep an eye on me. Be still and think about love.

From The Bottom

You're probably on my list of folks who have done things for me and not been properly thanked. I owe so much to so many. At least I have always paid my therapists. My heart is filled with gratitude.