Greetings from Laurel Canyon!
And your parents paid you through / You got a nice big car, nothing bothers you / Somebody cut out your eyes, you refuse to see / Ah, somebody cut out your heart, you refuse to feel / And you live in a shell / You create your own hell / You live in the past and talk about war / And you dig your own grave, yeah / But it’s a life you can save / So stop getting fast, it’s not gonna happen / And you’ll cry but you’ll never fall, no, no, no / You’re building a wall / Gotta break it down, start again
No, no, no, it won’t happen to us / We’ve lived our lives, basically we’ve been good men / So stop talking of war / ‘Cause you know we’ve heard it all before / Why don’t you go out there and do something useful?
Oh, listen to the man in the liquor store / He yelling “anybody want to drink before the war?” / “Anybody want to drink before the war?” / “Anybody want to drink before the war?”
Back in the golden days of late ’80s vinyl, nightclubs and DJs were members of record pools. The colorful and coked up owner and character Marc Jacobson made the NY ’80s scene and owned Rockpool. Once or twice a month I’d get a box filled with promo vinyl—priceless extended 12 inch new wave singles and indie LPs.
I became fast friends with Matt Green, the kid who worked stuffing those boxes. His job was to know what all the DJ members spun and I was happy to be on his list. He sent me the first Pixies EP, and yes, “the bald headed chick.” Back in ’87, a bald woman was radical, and after many late nights chatting about records, Matt knew I was a closet Joni Mitchell fan.
The bald headed Joni was an obscure topic. Not long after, I got a call from from an apologetic assistant at Chrysalis Records inquiring if I would be open to letting one of their “baby artists” do a showcase for the top brass at the label. It became clear that my “bald headed Joni” was a bit of a running joke in the office. My response was explosive. I scolded this poor assistant and threatened to personally come over and kick her bosses ass!
As I firmly said then, “Sinead is the Joni Mitchell of her generation.” I told her to passionately tell her boss, the owner of “428”—my NYC hipster cub—says to sort his shit out and that this is the most important act you have.
Chrysalis never did that showcase but I have always been a devoted fan. It’s been my good fortune to have seen Sinead at The World in East Village and a magnificent performance back in LA in 1990 supporting I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got.
In the late ’90s I was working on a soundtrack with film director Wim Wenders. I was asked who I wanted to include on an album of indie stars. My vote was to coax Sinead out of hiatus, a task Wim asked Bono to do.
What a life. Send positive vibes, I’ll always be fan.
Idelic Single of the Week: Angel Du$t – Space Jam
