Confessions of a Serial Songwriter: Dear Bob Lefsetz--Please R.S.V.P.


Dear Bob,

I am inviting you to my home for dinner. We can start with watermelon, feta and mint salad.

I'm not going to rail on you. Yes, you incite me but on the other hand, I learn a lot from your blogs. Your recent piece on Trump was spot on as are most of your posts. In fact, you crack me up from time to time because of just how spot on you are.

Then we'll have some grapefruit sorbet which guests in the past have aptly characterized as "a palate cleanse."

Of course our largest area of discourse will be our polar opposite views on the way in which music creators are being compensated (or not compensated) in the current digital economy...(yours being: stream away and embrace the new era; mine -- fair market value for my content, please). But I am an ongoing student of the universe and we are a diverse group. I'm curious about opposing perspectives. However, just because you say it's so, (and do it so confidently and convincingly) doesn't mean it is. I finish your read, take a deep breath and usually walk away unswayed. And then I write my own blog. So thank you. I have found that my adversaries are more motivating than my allies.

Caesar Salad? Caprese?

Sure, I see where you're coming from. Technology and innovation are essential for growth and progress. The disruption in any given field of work is always going to send someone searching for their missing cheese. I get it. Income streams dry up every day. Cookies crumble. Occasionally they crumble in ones own lap. But here's what I keep coming back to: it's not that there isn't income stream out there. It's that the revenue generated from creative content is being erroneously and unjustly re-directed to someone else's bank account. Someone who wouldn't have a business if not for the content that powers it. I'm simply not okay with that.

You call your non-followers "losers" -- may I remind you of #21 of your Life Lessons blog: "People need to put you down to feel good about themselves, it's a demonstration of insecurity and weakness." Hmm. I ponder.

Funnily enough, you and I have friends in common who swear you're a sweetheart -- which is entirely plausible. Because just when you make my blood boil you go and say something sober and Life Lesson #16: "Satisfaction is unexpected. In other words, it's when you're driving down the highway or walking down the avenue that you'll suddenly realize you love your life."

I want to know more about that guy.

So, despite my concerns and frustrations, and my feeling that you are spreading counter productive ideas throughout an industry in great need of some harmony between its creative community and its ecosystem (even some "semi-peaceful-co-existence" would do), I want to make you my Chicken Marbella. (Silver Palate page 82.)

You can ignore me. You wouldn't be the first. Or you could accept my invitation. I'll even invite Chartlon and Alex so you'll have instant allies and won't be a stranger. Perhaps I'll invite a personal friend or two as well.

I promise we won't rage. Although I might inquire if you think you'd take a slightly different stance if you had had a kid who wanted to make records. But mostly, I just want to have some grown-up conversation about the state of the business as well as the eureka moments encountered while driving down the highway of life. I have no plan to try to convert you. I'm aware that you can't be converted. By the same token I don't imagine that over coffee (and my ricotta cheese cake), I'll have moved any closer to your lane.

I am interested in interesting people and what makes them tick. Regardless of whether we see eye to eye, I am inspired by journeys of men and women who love their lives.

So, throw me out some dates.



Yumm. Palate Cleanse. (MorgueFile)

Thank you for reading. Please follow me on my Amazon Author's Page so that you'll get the memo as soon as my book, Confessions of a Serial Songwriter drops!