This is such a Rock Jock crutch...but if "Life" dealt you a fist full of luck and the winning ticket read: You've just won 24 hours with any musician of choice! Dead or alive...who would you pick? More importantly why?
Robert Plant? Surely not because of Zeppelin. I've always believed there's more to Robert than Rock magazines and web pages are willing to expose. I see the ink stained writing instrument that has scratched lyrics into several shades of a once living tree. I want to watch the curves of his eyes when the elements of inspiration float from thinking to singing.
Gene Simmons? I've been backstage with the God of Thunder while the roar of a starving guitar craved to be played if but only for two hours. We didn't speak of music and groupies. My choice of subjects was marketing and the minds that are fired for thinking too far out of the box set.
I wouldn't pick Jon Bon Jovi. He's still the unripe grape stuck to the vine waiting for hardcore critics to officially declare his savored flavor a Jersey born classic.
Nor would I pick Springsteen or Dylan. I'm a Poet. They're Poet's! We'll fight over the right to write then blend into place fancy words that paint, "A good time and we didn't even rhyme."
The Preacher Man that records twice a week in my studio would invest his prayers in Dave Grohl and Kurt Cobain. Thanks to some pretty hearty Sunday morning lecturing, the God's of Rock would gift his purpose with both...just because the makers of the musical universe find inspiration in reigniting the depths of original reasons why there are seasons.
If today was Christmas and the fat man in the red suit shot down the brick shoot shouting, "Pick a star! Any Rock Star to interview! Just tell me who!"
Who would you do?
Might you select the always perfect Glen Frey or Don Henley of the Eagles? I've been in the Green Room with Timothy B Schmidt and loved every minute of it. He's either seen it all and finds no reason to react or the untold tale still hidden in those high tenor vocals find no faith in a reason to race therefore never exposing the thorns of his white rose.
Ann and Nancy Wilson would label me boring, "He just sat there staring!"
Neal Schon of Journey is totally fascinating but spending twenty four hours interviewing might end up on Myspace where the next level of his band's project will include a better interviewer.
What about Carlos Santana?
Whoa... stop right there. The "single" musician I've paid a ton of money to see only to never find him at the forefront of ego and shine. The Saint of Sound. A man so willing to give up space on stage so that other's can feel the steam rise from the sweat melting into their skins made of sin.
Rollingstone Magazine reports today that Mr. Santana is working on a still-untitled memoir that Little Brown is set to publish in English and Spanish in 2014, the Los Angeles Times reports. Santana hopes his story will "help readers discover the sanctity, grace and divinity in themselves," according to a press release the newspaper quotes. "This book is a testament to triumph, victory and success."
The book promises to include stories about some of the biggest names in music history from Miles Davis and B.B. King to Eric Clapton, Herbie Hancock and Harry Belafonte. The guitar great will also write about "some of the people who have had a divine influence on his life, such as Cesar Chavez, Dolores Huerta and Archbishop Desmond Tutu."
Readers should also expect some navel gazing if this part of the press release is any indication: "Being recognized by all who hear a single note is a God-given miracle. This gift has been bestowed on a select few: Bob Marley, John Lennon, Michael Jackson, Jimi Hendrix, John Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Stevie Ray Vaughn, John McLaughlin and, of course, Carlos Santana."
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