Showing posts with label Beatles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beatles. Show all posts

Sunday, January 27, 2019

"Bands are known for drink, drugs and dust-ups. But beyond the debauchery lie four models for how to run a business."


For your approbation, owing primarily to the great opening story about Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts. It's a good read, on the glib side but instructive. I've seen similar models at work during my time in the brewing business. Maybe I'll tell those stories someday when I write my autobiography: "What I Remember."

Thanks for the title, Phil.

A rocker’s guide to management (in 1843, sister magazine to The Economist)

Bands are known for drink, drugs and dust-ups. But beyond the debauchery lie four models for how to run a business

In his languidly titled autobiography, “Life”, Keith Richards tells a story that captures something about the workplace culture of the Rolling Stones and his decades as the band’s guitarist. It’s 1984 and the Stones are in Amsterdam for a meeting (yes, even Keith Richards attends meetings). That night, Richards and Mick Jagger go out for a drink and return to their hotel in the early hours, by which time Jagger is somewhat the worse for wear. “Give Mick a couple of glasses, he’s gone,” Richards writes, scornfully.

Jagger decides that he wants to see Charlie Watts, who has already gone to bed. He picks up the phone, calls Watts’s room and says, “Where’s my drummer?” There is no response from the other end of the line. Jagger and Richards have a few more drinks. Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. It is Watts, dressed in one of his Savile Row suits, freshly shaved and cologned. He seizes Jagger and shouts “Never call me your drummer again,” and delivers a sharp right hook to the singer’s chin.*

Rock stars sometimes seem to exist in a completely different world to our own. It is easy to forget that they, too, are subject to office politics. Watts was the drummer, and Jagger was the leader, or co-leader, of the band. It was Jagger who commanded stages around the world and took responsibility for the band’s major business decisions. But by calling Watts my drummer, Jagger had upset the delicate balance of deference and respect that sustains the relationships between co-workers in any workplace. Of course, there aren’t many offices in which the principals take industrial quantities of artificial stimulants and launch themselves into fistfights. (Imagine being the HR director for the Stones – the paperwork!) But the dynamics of an incident like this are familiar to anyone who has ever felt compelled to request that their boss get over themselves.

The notion that bands should make music for the love of it was always romantic and now seems positively quaint. Rock groups are mini-corporations (some of them not so mini). Bands such as Coldplay or Kings of Leon operate sophisticated corporate machines that are responsible for multiple revenue streams; at a recent conference, Metallica’s drummer spoke about the importance of using the right customer-engagement software. Yet the music machine ultimately depends on a small group of talented individuals working closely together to create something magical. Once members of a group decide that they can’t stand to be in the same room as each other, the magic stops and the money dries up.

If rock groups are businesses, businesses are getting more like rock bands. Workplaces are far more informal than they used to be, with less emphasis on protocol, rank and authority. Many firms try to cultivate the creativity that can come from close collaboration. Employers attempt to engineer personal chemistry, hiring coaches to fine-tune team dynamics and sending staff on team-building exercises. Employees are encouraged to share lunch, play table tennis and generally hang out. As the founder of Hubble, a London office-space company, put it, “We hope that our team will become friends first, and colleagues second” ...

* Wikipedia relays the tale a tad differently:

One anecdote relates that in the mid-1980s, an intoxicated Jagger phoned Watts' hotel room in the middle of the night asking "Where's my drummer?". Watts reportedly got up, shaved, dressed in a suit, put on a tie and freshly shined shoes, descended the stairs, and punched Jagger in the face, saying: "Don't ever call me your drummer again. You're my fucking singer!"

Saturday, November 10, 2018

The 50th anniversary of the "White Album," or where the Beatles meet Gravity's Rainbow.



Hands down my favorite Beatles album, even though I didn't come to it until a few years later, when I was a junior in high school.

I haven't smoked pot for more than twenty years; alcohol does me just fine, thank you; however, if I ever go back for another bowl, let's hope the trip includes this album. It took a couple of Beefeater and tonics to take the edge off tonight's listening, conducted straight through with only a brief pause in the middle for the necessary refill.

Things like this make me emotional. As the author observes, 1967 may have been the Summer of Love, but 1968 was a year for the barricades.

The Accidental Perfection of the Beatles’ White Album, by Jordan Orlando (The New Yorker)

... The Beatles’ naïve and aggressively experimental musicianship propelled their most fractured and divisive project into a kind of accidental perfection. Fifty years later, the record is still good, still indelible, still as clean and pure as its sleeve, requiring no explanation or description beyond the band’s name. As the first century of electricity and world war recedes—the century of radio and movies and television and jazz, the final unconnected century, when teen-agers around the world flooded the seaport docks as new vinyl arrived—these ninety-four minutes endure, preserving the instant that rock joined the pantheon of the highest arts.

Friday, May 26, 2017

A half-century after Sgt. Pepper, Abbey Road on the River is underway in Jeffersonville.


From George Martin all the way to Mike Moore ...

Yesterday I was delighted to help out for a few hours at the Clark-Floyd Counties Convention Tourism Bureau's information booth, situated by the Pearl Street entrance to Abbey Road on the River.

The Big Four Bridge is open for transit, with the ramp descending to street level adjacent to the fest gate. If you decide to walk, Budweiser wants you to keep moving.

Presumably no listening, either.


The festival takes up the whole rectangular expanse of the park built around the bridge. There'll always be first-year jitters, but yesterday it appeared that the fest's infrastructure had been well-planned.

As always in autocentric America, parking stands to be the biggest issue, thought there are hotel shuttles to help with out-of-town guests. Use the damn walking bridge, Louisvillians.

Of course, me being me, the biggest question is how much the city of Jeffersonville is budgeting for five days of Beatlemania. Recalling the reluctance of City Hall in New Albany to openly discuss how much Harvest Homecoming actually costs, it's an answer I'm unlikely to receive.

But just imagine being able to house all of Harvest Homecoming inside the expanse the size of Big Four Station, engineered precisely for this purpose (and others). No merchant would be blocked, and the independent businesses nearby would be in a position to enjoy the best of both worlds.

A boy can dream. Thanks to the bureau for having me -- and by the way, it's fazed, not phased.

Abbey Road on the River starts off cloudy, but recovers, by Danielle Grady (All Things Bright and Jeffersonville)

JEFFERSONVILLE — The first day of Abbey Road on the River’s first year in Jeffersonville didn’t start out perfectly.

Rain the day before pushed back the gate opening for The Beatles festival from noon to 4 p.m.

By late-afternoon on Thursday, however, temperatures had risen into the 60s and a small crowd of Abbey Road-die hards had gathered at the foot of the Big Four Bridge awaiting the five-day festival’s beginning.

Suzie Atkins, a six-years-or-so veteran, was among the not-phased.

“There’s always bad weather the first day and things get pushed back,” she said.

Abbey Road on the River, which was previously held in Louisville for 12 years, moved across the river to downtown Jeffersonville for 2017 after the festival founder decided to look for a different spot.

Monday, January 26, 2015

In the moving vans pull up outside this address ...


 ... then incumbent council person Kevin Zurschmiede's name might yet appear here:


And that's because one man's organ grinder is another man's 800-lb gorilla.


Well -- let's hear it.