How much spin is left on a set of wheels that can’t be changed?
Rollingstone Magazine has invaded the space of a different shape of rock n roll, the mindset of professional wrestler Hulk Hogan. Like most hardcore RS fans, such attempted print ignites the pieces that make up the energy dubbed “a waste of time.” RS is an ancient radio disc jockey’s mental escape, a vivid daily reminder of why we chase the roots of music landing in positions of performance on separated stages between live music and all that’s been recorded.
Last go around we learned why Lil Wayne is the greatest African American performer of all time based solely on his conviction to reinvent beyond the levels Madonna set free two decades ago. A master of musical methods fed by a craving to exceed the limits of presentation, Wayne seems to be guaranteeing the world that better dollar amount times might seem a billion miles from your next step but at least we have earth shattering music.
Up close and far away Hogan and Wayne couldn’t be anymore different. The worlds most recognized professional wrestler versus the most creative, most daring and the biggest selling musical act of 2008. Absolutely without a doubt two individualized shapes who’ve harnessed the concept of marketing, performance and expectation. They know who their fans are, were and will be and both parties cater to every level to those not yet invented.
I call this, “Looking and listening beyond sound.” Standing in front of two blaring speakers without putting focus on or exposing personal energy in the way of giving away your everything to the woofer’s paper thin, finely tuned cone system that pounds like a heartbeat, stealing as well as releasing air into a world it’s vowed to dominate like a raging monster preparing to take on The Gladiator.
A sixth sense or as the Dahli Lama constantly reminds us, “We’ve lived this life before.”
Anyone caught by the glitz of a cameras naked eye or the roar of a bass guitar string struck at the birth of exploration realizes success is fed by one trickle, “Being at the right place at the right time.” If not exposed and or ignored that brief scent from a rose six blocks from your locked front door is swept by the wind to other areas of discovery.
The fame game is nothing more than a set of keys hidden away by ones efforts in chapters written before this current page?
The National Association of Broadcasters finds great warmth in the idea of sharing the art of performance. They encourage the unheard, long forgotten and here to today gone tomorrow’s to step from the depths of knee deep needs and give away the unexplained craft driven into their dreams during a teens discovering of The Stones, AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Sir Mix, Kanye West and for that matter Stern, Limbaugh, Hannity, Costas, Gowdy, Al Michaels and Keith Jackson.
What would you say? If today marked the moment to which your seeds made their way into a turned and toiled soil trampled by feet weakened by defeat, would the shades of shadows shared be colorized creating an effort to recognize life beyond sound?
Today, Hulk Hogan can barely walk, his arms and legs are numb, four hundred slams onto a fake stage and his tailbone has curled shoving his once tip top conditioning system into arthritis and other painful conclusions. From the moment his eyes open he pours gallons of heart shaped determination into tiny stumbles that take him from his bed to the restroom. He’s become your grandfather, an old man not yet sixty grasping for any opportunity to prove he’s not dead.
Not yet twenty five, Lil Wayne lives like Hogan never existed.
The keys connected to the chain openly spotted dangling from the ignition don’t feature a restrictor plate and or handwritten rule or playbook meant to protect ones ambition in the silence lifted from the speakers once beyond the presentation of sound.
It's time for change...ambtious endeavors need leadership.
Inside the past sixty days the behind the scenes life and style I lead has been blanketed by other peoples dreams…interns who’ve vowed to step toward the well lit On-Air light. A destination so easy, anyone can do it and too many everyone’s are doing it…without having to bleed the tales of up, down, out, this side, that side, upside down and still have enough balance to keep pushing forward. No day passes that I don’t suddenly drop a project, turn to their ambitious search for a destination and lay it on the line, “Why are you here? Is this really what you want to do to your family? Are you sure you can locate the strength to make it beyond a year?”
Bobble heads weren’t created by toymakers. The invention came from radio wanna-be’s who have nothing to say vocally but their body language says something differently; bobble, bobble bobble, bobble…great come with me.
What are bankers telling future employees? What are department store clerks whispering to those new to the team? How are sales executives and General Managers preparing themselves daily? How can they withstand the presence of “No” so often and still keep smiling? Do McDonald’s and Wendy’s employees ever get tired of smiling? How can they keep it up for so long? What about the person who paints the cake, the pottery and puts flowers in pots at the store for Mothers Day…what is it you think?
I spotted eight new movie theater employees pulling off orientation last evening, I stopped them, looked at each in the soul to calmly ask, “When I come to your theater will you be able to tell me which movie is worth ten dollars and which one won’t be worth even a buck at the Big Red Box?”
Laugh laugh, ha ha ha, giggle, snort, LOL, bobble, bobble, bobble. Sort of makes you wonder if Hulk Hogan will be the last of the great warriors who played so hard it swiped victory from his resume. As loyal as Lil Wayne appears to be, what happens when being in the right place at the right time gives him exactly what he needs? How will he stand when trying to walk toward the restroom?
Was I being a jerk when ten pages deep into two interns’ books I calmly said, “You aren’t ready. Come back in six months.” And so they left. If Lonnie Bell, Major Dan Miller, Paul Damon or Bill Conway would’ve done that to me…a six month break…where would it have taken me?
I chose to look at life beyond sound. What do you hear? Your mothers heartbeat…the one that sang you to sleep when you were barely a moment in creation. From its energy every reason to be...feeds your feet.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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