Assholery is Alive and Well in Rock & Roll,
Accept No Substitutes
by Lisa McDonald
"The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench,
a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free,
and good men die like dogs.
There's also a negative side." ~ Hunter S Thompson
Despite the years I’ve spent overflowing with high praise
for the outstanding musicianship of
Toronto-based touring outfit
Classic Albums Live,
a select group in the alumni
have recently proved to me that
Assholery is indeed alive and well in Rock and Roll.
And it seems all the heartfelt love and support I gave
the very head of the organization
has only resulted in me being labelled
“a one night stand embarrassment”.
Are you fucking kidding me?
This public denial of me as a human being,
is not only a lie told by someone I deeply cared about,
but this announcement has got to be
THE single most hurtful, insulting and
humiliating lie anyone has ever told about me, ever.
In the two years we were intimately involved,
I never once showed an ounce of
disrespect toward him,
let alone been the cause of any embarrassment.
And if there was any truth to his announcement,
our one night stand would go down as
one of the longest in history.
But there isn't any truth to it.
And I did nothing to deserve his lie.
There are other musicians in this town who don't,
and probably never will work with CAL,
but are kings in Rock and Roll Assholery as well.
Sadly, there's been a few
who've recently surfaced in my life.
One in particular has worn
the Asshole crown for years,
dating back to the 80s, at least.
And he showed me again
just how well he continues to wear it today.
But discarding my support for this particular Asshole
and some others,
comes easier for me because we've never been intimate
and a level of trust never built.
But the head of Classic Albums Live?
He may have left me shaking my head
over his blatant coldness from time to time;
and I could probably add a paragraph or nine
to the book of cruelty
others seem to be writing about him,
but I chose to say nice things instead;
verbally and electronically,
because I wanted to believe.
However,
he really is a self-proclaimed “destroyer of women”,
and he just can't seem to help it.
How stupid of me to think I would be different,
and actually receive the respect from him I deserved.
As for some of the CAL alumni
who twisted the knife and added insult to the lie,
well,
I guess some people will say anything to keep their job.
About my truth, one of them actually said,
"nobody gives a shit".
Perhaps.
But really, where does he get the audacity
to speak for nobody?
And this is how they appreciate people
who've raved about their talents?
Just because I chose to put my heart out there
and explain the reasons why
I can no longer attend shows or be Facebook friends?
Anyone who's familiar with Facebook knows that
it's incredibly easy to find out things on that site
that you're better off not knowing.
By being FB friends with the CAL alumni,
I was seeing and reading things that unbeknownst to them,
hurt me.
But I still spoke of love in my
private message of explanation with them,
before pressing the un-friend key.
And I was treated like trash for it.
My pain turned into gossip fodder.
Why?
I didn't say or write anything bad about them.
I've never said or written anything bad about them or their boss.
So I don't understand the heartlessness.
One thing's for sure,
the respect I previously held for these alumni
quickly and swiftly vanished.
Indifference and unkindness comes far too easy to some folks,
especially when they can show it through a keyboard,
hiding from behind a computer.
Perhaps one day they'll enlighten me by
telling me face to face
why I deserve it.
I welcome the day.
Like the alumni who said that I'm
"just a concertaholic
who writes on the CAL message board".
Yea right, I guess to some, that's all I am.
Even if I was just another bum in the seats,
lining their pockets, contributing to their mortgage payments,
and writing positive reviews
about their performances on the CAL message board,
these are reasons to disregard me like shit?
Musicians who think they're better than everyone else
is Rock and Roll Assholery at its finest.
I was so wrong about them.
I now think of CAL as nothing more than
a bunch of no-name Assholes who treat their fans like shit
while making a living playing other people's music.
Assholes making a living
playing other people's music
should have more gratitude.
In this day and age when performing live is
the only way to really succeed,
gee,
you'd think being nice to your fans
who have always been nice to you,
and promote you in a positive light
would be a complete no-brainer.
Let's reflect on this quote shall we...
“Music bridges the gap between human beings.
We are privileged to be able to do it.” ~ David Crosby
But it's the one driven solely by money
and personal connections that may further his career;
the one with his own agenda and ulterior motives
that hurt me the most.
He knew my heart.
I could never be good enough for such people.
I may be rough enough, but not rich enough.
And not too blind to see.
At the age of 46,
my hopeful rock and roll heart has, once again
been torn, frayed and buried beneath a heaping pile of bullshit.
And in the dictionary,
beside the definition of 'heaping pile of bullshit',
the face of Craig Martin,
the producer of Classic Albums Live,
should be placed large and proud,
but only in one colour,
brown.
For the blood, bone, heart and soul of this Asshole
is made up entirely of and nothing but,
100% low grade shit.
He's an opportunist.
The kind of opportunist who will chew you up, spit you out,
and then stomp all over you in his pursuit of self-servitude.
An opportunist who freely admits that
he can't seem to stop hurting people.
But heaven help me for letting it get me down.
According to him,
I shouldn't complain about how he hurts me.
I should be happy I don't have cancer instead.
In other words,
he thinks he can treat me as shitty as he wants,
and I best be happy and grateful he's in my life at all.
He also told me,
"compared to the long list of women I've ruined,
I've hurt you the least".
Gee, really?
Perhaps if it didn't hurt so much,
I'd be grateful.
"I broke a thousand hearts
before I met you
And I'll break a thousand more
before I'm through"
~ Bad to the Bone, George Thorogood & the Destroyers
Imagine measuring my pain against other women he's hurt!
And I suppose he thinks handing out complimentary
tickets to his shows makes up for the pain he inflicts.
I highly doubt putting on benefits for charity
will keep him from arriving at the gates of hell either.
I am amazed however,
that he keeps his head up,
swimming in such a massive ocean of guilt.
But even now when there's no denying
the ugliness of his true nature,
it's still with enormous regret I have to take back
all the nice things I said about him.
It breaks my heart.
But based on his public denial of me;
of who I was in his life,
his lover,
someone meaningful,
and a decent human being who cared for him,
how can I not?
I opened my door time and again,
to welcome him
when he arrived on my doorstep
looking for strokes to his incredibly large ego.
I was good to him,
and he damn well knows it.
The late night trips I made across town
when he had his kids and couldn't leave the house;
spending time with him when he didn't know if
the mother of his children would outlive her illness.
I was always there when he needed me.
I loved him,
and was always, always, always
completely straight with him.
But Mister Me Gimme Mine won't admit it.
Instead, he calls me
"a one night stand embarrassment".
And I can't imagine why.
In my book,
any man who would lie and call a good woman
a one-night stand embarrassment
speaks volumes about his character... volumes!
So now,
any doubts and suspicions I had are confirmed.
Any alienation I was feeling, complete.
But there were other despicable lies he told,
and I wouldn't be surprised if there are more
I haven't even heard about.
I was always curious how he was portraying me to others,
but because this was a game to him,
I could never get a straight answer.
When the bullshit started to reek too much,
he'd find a way of endearing me to him again,
but that five-word lie is the worst ever.
Congratulations Mr Martin,
for wiping out any goodness we once shared,
and the irreparable damage of your lie.
Perhaps when I'm dead, I'll get over it.
At the next Academy Awards for Assholery,
I'll be sure to nominate you in all categories.
And to think it was his idea
to shake hands on being friends no matter what.
Another lie.
And to think he wonders why
all his relationships turn to shit.
When Assholes use human beings as toilet paper,
what's to wonder about?
But obviously when control freaks lose their power,
lying is the next best course of action.
Why can't men who claim to care,
simply stand up for a woman?
To defend her honour?
To defend the honour of a friend;
a human being?
After all,
I was never asked to stay quiet about our relationship.
Why should single people do that?
Being quiet was never discussed between us, ever.
Keeping details of our relationship private was, for me,
initially out of respect for his children.
I mean really,
how many women will a man parade
through the lives of his children?
And then it was simply a matter of patience;
waiting for him to be a man, and stand up for me.
In retrospect,
I see that his need for privacy was simply
a necessity in order to behave badly;
a cover to support his deceit.
One of the last things I said to him was
"I feel like I'm seeing a married man".
His response?
"But I'm single".
He also went on to say,
"I would never do anything to hurt you".
And I quote Martin Sheen...
"The bullshit piled up so high,
you needed wings to stay above it" ~ Apocalypse Now
To think I would have stood up for him in a heartbeat.
But clearly, I'm a bigger man than he is.
In the words of local R&B musician Erin Hunt...
"Somewhere there's a man who believes in the woman that I am
Hard to find in a world full of people
who aren't half the man I am".
In today's sick society,
rudeness, selfishness, disrespect and deceitfulness
run rampant.
Unfortunately I now have a hard time believing anything
he's ever told me.
And what a devastating blow,
shredding the hell out of the wee bits of trust and faith
I was naively holding on to.
I really, really, really wanted to believe;
to believe in his humanity.
His lie has crushed me.
But I guess this type of behaviour is fitting.
We live in a throw away society,
and it applies to people too.
Why fix the television, dvd player,
refrigerator or washing machine
when its easier to throw it away
and go out and buy a new one?
Seems to me we still live inside the
1990s sitcom that popularized this behaviour.
Along with most of North America,
I too laughed along to the antics of
Jerry, Elaine, George and Kramer, sure.
And I can't tell you how many times I've heard,
"you remind me so much of Elaine Benis".
But is that a good thing or a bad thing?
Because after several years of indifference
toward their fellow man,
where did the writers of the Seinfeld series finale
ultimately put this lovable ensemble cast of characters?
Behind bars, that's where.
Guilty of crimes against humanity.
To his credit,
he did say he could never be
the man I hoped he could be.
An understatement to say the least,
bold and double underlined.
Yet saying it doesn't make it all okay.
Unsolicited advice from another CAL alumni told me
I should simply, "grow up".
What, to be an uncaring Asshole like him?
But the best alumni response of all came when I asked a man
"how could he say these things about me?"
Reply: "because he's a guy".
Ah, I suppose that explains everything.
No wonder there's anti-depressant commercials
on television every five minutes
and most of the population takes them,
or so it seems.
Ask the next person you know if they're on meds,
or if they know someone who is.
Recently I came across this statement:
"In the 60s
people took acid to make the world weird.
Now the world is weird
and people take Prozac to make it normal".
I personally know two people who were admitted
to the suicide ward over the past month,
due to similar shades and textures of bullshit.
But I'm still here,
a coal miner's granddaughter,
so fuck you.
I've hesitated placing blame on another person
for why I'm down on humanity,
but I've recently come to admit,
this Asshole and the relationship I had with him
has contributed greatly to the depression I've been in.
It became so crystal clear just how
unworthy of him he considers me.
While I was still in the relationship,
I tried anti-depressants.
And believe it or not, it was at his prompting.
Anything to take the pressure off himself I guess.
But aside from the average amounts of
psychedelics, pot and booze that I ingested back in my party days,
I've taken the natural health care route for most of my life.
So I discarded the happy pills band-aid solution
and went for a good dose of the truth instead.
Another quote I recently came across...
"Before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem,
first make sure that you are not, in fact,
just surrounded by assholes."
~ William Gibson
I anticipate struggling with the affect of Craig Martin's lies
for some time to come,
so I just keep reminding myself
it's not that I'm not good enough for him,
but he's nowhere good enough for me.
Not as a muse, mentor, friend,
business reference, or lover.
Not even as an acquaintance.
Because he cannot be trusted.
And I mean trusted in the most essential way;
fundamental trust.
Certain people may be horrified to know
some of the things he's said about them.
Not only should he not speak
so poorly about certain people around me,
but he should never speak
such shit about people, period.
The only thing I can be accused of here is being honest.
And it's unfortunate if being truthful frightens people so much,
but I never suggested to him or anyone
that I'd be anything but.
I have nothing to hide.
And no amount of concert tickets,
letters of recommendation,
votes of confidence for my writing,
or hot booty calls
could possibly make up for the complete disregard for
good old fashioned trust, honour, truth and respect.
And I have to hand it to him;
his opportunistic feelers were right on the bloody mark,
as far as knowing exactly what would humiliate me the most.
He couldn't have found a better way to hurt me
had he come over here with a chainsaw
and hacked off both my arms and legs.
Because he knows as well as anyone
how important the truth is to me.
Big shiny gold star for him.
And by virtue of this blog,
he's also succeeded in causing me to lower my standards
to the grade school level his are clearly at.
I guess I should have known,
being he once insisted on pulling me into
his grade school gossip by implying I was in cahoots
with a mutual friend who,
allegedly sent him flirtatious emails.
I thought, "How the fuck old are you again?"
And I'm told to grow up?
I really can't stand a man who gossips.
And to implicate me, only enraged me.
With no fear of confrontation,
I decided to telephone the emailer myself.
But unfortunately,
I couldn't hold back my anger
and I came out looking like the bad guy.
And he did nothing to defend me of course.
In retrospect,
it was likely due to being just another lie in the first place.
But what's worse,
after years of sharing very personal emails with this man
(and I've kept all the emails we've shared),
he neglected to inform me when he decided to give
his mother access to his private email account.
I do recall him telling me he's a mama's boy,
but what the fuck kind of man,
who leads the promiscuous life he does,
gives his mother access to his private email?
Needless to say,
I was very surprised to learn I was suddenly being read
by someone other than him.
More fucking deceit.
But more than that,
what kind of people reply to emails
that they know are not sent to them?
Does the arrogance run that deep in the family
that this form of communication is acceptable on their part?
Now, I stand by every single solitary word I've ever typed,
and I'm not embarrassed in the least
if a million other people, besides the one it is meant for,
has read them,
and regardless of how private they may have been.
It's being deceived by him and his lot that sickens me.
And the fact that they make me out to be the one at fault.
But why should I be surprised?
The Asshole clearly gets off being the great pretender.
Craig Martin has posted comments under different aliases
on the CAL website's message board.
And I was disgusted when he told me about it.
But the particular lie that is the main subject in this writing
is what compelled me to defend myself with this blog.
The horror I feel over my own stupidity
for ever believing in him is overwhelming.
After all this time,
it's difficult to come to terms with the fact
my friendship was never something he valued.
I question whether he has any values at all.
If he did,
he would never ever, ever, EVER have lied
and called me
"a one night stand embarrassment".
Or had the bloody nerve to call me ungrateful.
He's the one who's ungrateful.
And another thing about deceitful online communication,
I also have reason to suspect I've been read by Craig's sister.
Tracy sent me a lovely email one day to say
how much I'd embarrassed the entire Martin family.
Hmmm,
gee,
speaking from my heart about love is that embarrassing?
I'd give up all of my internal organs in a bet
that Tracy Martin
never once stopped to consider, not once,
the pain and humiliation my family and friends felt.
I know Craig certainly never once stopped to consider this.
I always raved about him.
I told my mother and father,
and my siblings how great he was.
Not to mention how fantastic the Classic Albums Live series was,
sometimes purchasing slews of tickets from Ticketmaster
to ensure my friends came.
But thanks to Craig Martin's email lie,
my mother, my father, my sisters and brothers,
and my friends,
now know this same man,
as the Asshole who took the time to
constructively think, and type out words
to describe me as "some people",
"someone who's gone off her meds",
and someone he considers his "one-night stand embarrassment".
And by also taking the time to select a number of people
from his electronic contact list to send this lie to,
speaks to the fact that this was no accident.
It wasn't like he stupidly blurted out such a viscous lie
verbally
for some ridiculous reason,
and then regretted it.
No, absolutely not.
That would have been bad enough.
The Asshole sat down and prepared his wicked lie
deliberately, and very, very carefully.
He took the time to cross his t's and dot his i's.
But he made the mistake
(or maybe it wasn't a mistake)
of not using the "bcc" feature.
So when the lovely lie was forwarded and arrived in my inbox,
I got to see all the folks the Asshole sent it to.
And I've not been the same person since.
This big-shot-wannabe rock star Asshole
has been treating people like shit
while having his cake and eating it too,
with lord knows how many dozen flavours
on both sides of the border,
for far too long.
You can be sure if I had pals in the Mafia,
I would have sent them to his house long ago
not only to ram his peace and prosperity
so far up his ass that he choked on them,
but to ensure he never typed another email again
by breaking every single finger on both of his hands.
Assholes that need so many women in their lives
must really be, at the heart of it,
unbelievably insecure.
But fuck,
stop lying about it!
But I guess he's read all the books about
how to be a Rock and Roll Asshole.
There's only been a few thousands of them
published over the years
with pages and pages of the same bullshit.
According to her book,
George Harrison called Pattie Boyd to ask
if she wouldn't mind not coming home.
You see, he'd met a new plaything,
but he'd likely be done with her in a couple months,
at which point he'd be happy to trash the toy
and welcome his wife home again.
Should Pattie be upset, or grateful instead?
After all, George wrote Something about her.
And don't get me started on
Cynthia Lennon's book about John.
He may be my all-time favourite Beatle,
he wrote In My Life after all,
but I don't doubt for a millisecond
the Assholery he put his first wife through,
or his second one for that matter.
If this excerpt doesn't say it all,
I just don't know about it...
“I never stopped loving John,
but the cost of that love has been enormous.
Someone asked me recently whether,
if I’d known at the beginning what lay ahead,
would I have gone through with it.
I had to say no.
Of course I could never regret having my wonderful son.
But the truth is that,
if I’d known as a teenager
what falling for John Lennon would lead to,
I would have turned around right then, and walked away.”
~ Cynthia Lennon 2005
I cried my eyes out.
At least Lennon had the guts
to more than occasionally admit his Assholery in the press.
These are stories from long ago,
yet they so easily could've been written today.
Outside of the rock and roll world,
President Bill Clinton may have been married,
but look at the fool he made of himself by lying about his affairs.
And he may never have confessed if not for the blackmailer,
but David Letterman's response to it
was far better received, I think.
Perhaps the head of Classic Assholes Live is
a compulsive and pathological liar.
These types of people will resort to telling lies,
regardless of the situation.
They lie out of simple habit.
It's routine for them, a way of life.
And apparently sociopaths cannot be changed.
My advice to all the liars out there...
if you really are so incapable of telling the truth,
at least have the decency to say nothing at all.
Manipulating good people to suit his own needs
is prob'ly Craig Martin's greatest strength.
But it's too bad he doesn't see that
his actions have consequences
and that he does not grasp the meaning of accountability.
Rumour has it he went on a rampage
trying to find out who alerted me to his lie.
Like that's the issue.
What an Asshole;
a colossal Asshole.
But it's just like him though,
to be more concerned over who betrayed him,
rather than moving mountains in apology for betraying me.
Not that I would accept his apology.
The lie; the betrayal
should never have happened in the first place,
and no excuse could possibly justify it.
Besides,
in his arrogance
he believes this is all my fault.
How could the producer of such a great music series
be the one with the problem?
But perhaps it is my fault.
Because one of the first things he ever told me was
"you won't get any bullshit from me".
And I believed him.
But no worries,
I won't be sharing details of our sexual exploits
or any pillow talk.
I'd sooner flip the pencil 'round
and erase all memory of it.
Craig Martin is not only a liar,
he's a phony, a coward,
and an absolute disgrace for a human being.
I may be an utter fool for
giving him my heart and ever hoping, or wanting
a lifelong friendship,
but if anyone thinks I'm outspoken on line,
I'm a hell of a lot moreso face to face.
When the Asshole's name or the mere mention of
Classic Albums Live
ever comes up around me,
I'm afraid I will never again be saying anything nice or positive.
Far, far, far from it.
The pain deepens however...
because I will never see another CAL show.
And for an enormous classic rock fan such as I,
it's simply unforgivable.
Anyone who knows me will tell you,
I was drawn to the CAL community from the get-go.
I loved it.
I loved it.
I fucking loved it.
Rounding up friends since 2003,
they would hoot and holler alongside me from
the centre floor at the Phoenix Concert Theatre
at almost every show.
As a writer,
I posted numerous reviews
and positive reports of the shows all over the world wide web,
promoting the series thru my social media skills,
and I also had a number of alumni
on my “to ask” list for interviews.
CAL was just beginning to tap into the great creative potential
that lurks inside me, ever so close to the surface.
It's why it hurts so bloody much.
Because it's not just about some guy who hurt me.
I loved the music first and foremost
and being the person I am,
why wouldn't I welcome it and him into my heart?
My love and passion runs deep.
I was in awe of the ones who played the music so perfectly,
and I had so much respect for the one who founded it.
In retrospect,
my alienation from the music began
the very second I got intimately involved with Martin.
I was bullied and kept his dirty little secret,
and it may have took some years to finally realize and admit it,
but my conscience can't live with anything built
on this many lies.
All hope is now squashed
of ever being part of the music again
and it's a hurt that cuts on many, many levels.
Unlike when you're young,
deep wounds at this stage in life
have the potential of never healing.
But as I carry on without a comma
I suppose I'll pine for the days
when I was totally oblivious
to all the behind the scenes bullshit;
when it was just the music I loved.
And I'll keep reminding myself
that I was completely genuine
in my feelings about him, the music
and all the CAL talent who made the shows happen.
But when it comes to
classic rock and stellar musicianship,
I won’t be denying myself
from experiencing it elsewhere.
Because I,
Live Music Head,
still knows where the fuck it’s at.
This great clip is for all
the lyin' cheating asshole bastards out there...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67ht1Hihjis
And as for all the real men, well,
you don’t have to be told what kind of man
every woman wants, do you?
But no one sings about this man
with more passion or more soul than,
The Rose...
(one of the best female vocal performances of all time
and a film every music fan must see)
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x5mjya_bette-midler-when-a-man-loves-a-wom_music
Back in the 1970s,
I was exposed to Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention
for the first time
when the soon-to-become-classic album,
Overnite Sensation
came blasting from the car stereo
inside my brother’s souped up 1968 Ford Torino.
Then on Aug 15, 1984,
I was fortunate enough to see Mr Zappa perform live
at Toronto’s CNE Grandstand.
But Frank Zappa is dead.
And it’s up to cover bands to keep his music alive;
great cover bands like Project/Object,
who gave me fond memories
back in the 90s at the Tralf in Buffalo,
when Zappa alumni Ike Willis told us,
“I’m gonna buy me a horse, just about this big...”
In more recent years,
the show to remember was Steve Vai and Terry Bozzio
joining Dweezil Zappa (Frank's first born son)
and Zappa Plays Zappa at the Hummingbird Centre.
I stood proudly with the rest of the sold out
Toronto audience, showing our appreciation
by giving the band a standing ovation after every song.
After every f&^king song!
Now perhaps there’s just as much Rock and Roll Assholery
in Zappa’s neck of the woods,
but fortunately I haven’t been, nor plan to be
intimately involved with any of them.
I'm quite happy to be just another bum in their seats.
Fortunately CAL doesn’t cover classic albums by Frank Zappa
note for note, cut for cut, or otherwise.
But when it comes to covering classic records like
Overnite Sensation,
it doesn’t get any better than Dweezil Zappa and his band anyways.
And the album is so obviously about sex,
my favourite.
So you can imagine my depression lifting
and excitement taking over,
as I look down upon the ticket I hold in my hand;
the ticket that gets me into the Rapids Theatre in Niagara Falls NY
to see Zappa Plays Zappa again,
when they take the stage on June 29, twenty ten.
I plan to be standing front and centre
hootin’ and a-hollerin’ alongside the same brother who
no longer has that souped-up 1968 Ford Torino.
And because on this day back in 1960,
music transcriptionist, guitarist extraordinaire,
and Zappa alumni Steve Vai was born,
I’m re-visiting the totally awesome video clip
that rates high in my Top 5.
Yes, today has been a good day.
Click on the link to watch the band play Zomby Woof,
and Mr Vai step up around the 2.40 mark
to deliver a most blistering solo that blows the f&^king mind.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xcoHA33mH8
Zappa Plays Zappa ~ Accept No Substitutes
by Lisa McDonald
published at Factoidz
July 3, 2010
http://factoidz.com/zappa-plays-zappa-rapids-theatre/
