Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 15, 2026 in Blog |
THE FALL OF THEIR YEARS:
SHOULD MUSIC LEGENDS STOP PERFORMING WHEN THEY GET (TOO) OLD?
Yesterday, my friend Paul Harris posted a music concert review which triggered a strong reaction. The result is this article — with a counterargument.
I encourage readers to check out Paul’s writings, and particularly his most recent article on Jimmy Webb, the legendary songwriter who composed a flurry of crossover pop hits during the 1960s and 1970s. He’s nearing 80 now. Like many musicians of his generation and era, Webb still tours and performs live shows. Nostalgia has become a very lucrative business. Accordingly, many classic rock bands, R&B groups, and country musicians refuse to retire, even though most can’t sing nor play close to their talents when they were at their peak. As Paul points out, most legacy performers can’t hit the high notes anymore — either literally and figuratively — and in some instances have become embarrassing; some might even say cringeworthy.
[Note: Read “Aging Out Vocally” at www.harrisonline.com]
Obviously, there is no expiration date dictating when a live act is “too old” to bring joy to an audience. If people want to pay money and they leave satisfied, that’s validation enough. Moreover, age is just a number. Some performers get burned out by their 30s. Yet other performers are still going strong well into their 80s, even 90s (Willie Nelson, we will “roll you up and smoke you when you die”). Paul noted that each and every performer is different. There’s no specific cutoff nor date when to call it quits. He also pointed out many legends use audio enhancements onstage and/or backup singers to cover their diminishing vocal ranges — admittedly with very mixed results.
But Paul was also highly critical of live acts who (in his opinion) probably shouldn’t be performing live anymore. He cited Stephen Stills, Graham Nash, and Joni Mitchell as examples. I’ll quote him directly from one of his other reviews:
“Joni Mitchell was also there to sing ‘Both Sides Now,’ and while I have always liked a lot of her music, Joni’s appearance saddened me. I know all about the stroke and her comeback (thanks to Brandi Carlile), but it’s time for Joni to stop showing up at events like this, sitting on a golden throne and barely squeaking out the lyrics. It reminded me of Kirk Douglas being dragged onstage for the Academy Awards. Doing so diminishes her status as a music legend.”
That’s an interesting perspective and do I see his point. But, I also disagree with it. In fact, I strongly disagree. Entertainment is not a competitive sport. While pro athletes certainly should retire once their skills sharply diminish (recall Willie Mays in his final awkward season in the majors, or Johnny Unitas hobbling bow-legged in a humiliating last year in the NFL), stage performers don’t hurt their teams nor rob anyone else of accomplishment. In fact, appearances late in the swan song of a legendary career may enhance a memory and preserve a legacy.
In recent years, we’ve seen (via television, internet, and in some cases live) icons who were clearly at the end of their careers. Best examples include Tony Bennett singing in the late stage of Alzheimers. The same goes for Glen Campbell. Local reviews for legends Smokey Robinson and Johnny Mathis were highly critical. Wayne Newton still makes appearances here in Las Vegas. I saw him live 20 years ago, and his voice was completely shot back then. I can’t even imagine what he sounds like today.
And you know what — that’s all okay. Cracking voices and critics be damned — if more people get one last chance to see a musical paragon, even from the distant past — that’s wonderful.
With most legacy singers, we know exactly what we’re getting. An audience that paid to see Frank Sinatra perform well into his 80s in his late years when he needed a giant screen monitor as a crutch for song lyrics and often forgot cues and stumbled through songs he’d sung hundreds of times before wasn’t expecting the Rat Pack version of the singer who often nailed those classic Capital recording sessions in a single take. They paid and went to see — SINATRA. Enough said. The same is true for Stills, Nash, Mitchell, Bennett, Campbell, Robinson, Mathis, and Newton — voices who gave us the soundtracks of our lives.
Las Vegas is the mecca of nostalgia shows, and I’ve seen many of them in my 24 years of living here. Quite a few icons had embarrassing moments and the shows were far from perfect. I saw B.B. King in his 80s who could barely walk and needed a stool while onstage (he was a terrific performer)…..I saw Ringo Starr, who was never known as a great stage presence even though his all-star band more than makes up for it (and besides, who cares that he never could sing–it’s Ringo!)…..I saw Paul Williams, the songwriter and actor who told stories all night though he wasn’t much of a vocalist (was awesome)…..I saw Burt Bacharach well into in his 80s (who was mesmerizing simply for the fact he’s written and composed as many great songs as anyone)…. I saw Dr. John in the final months of his life, and sat 30 feet away (he looked half dead, but man could he play the piano and put on a show!)…..I saw the Grateful Dead, the redux version, was my last concert (and they were as good as any major band I’ve seen)…..I did walk out on Bob Dylan once. Okay, I’ll give you that one.
Thankfully, none of those old acts decided to hang it up. So, I took away the gifts of a memory and a story.
My favorite legacy performer story is seeing Liza Minnelli about a decade ago. Luxor Las Vegas. I think it was one of her last tours and local residencies because now she just can’t do it any longer. I sat third-row dead-center, so I could hear Minnelli’s heavy breathing and see the sweat dripping from her brow. It was one of the most astonishing moments of any stage performer I’ve been blessed to experience–and she was BETTER because of the fact she didn’t quite “have it” anymore. Because what I saw that night was raw talent, a genuine effort, and an absolute love for what she was fortunate to do in her life. Minnelli was 70, and coming off a surgery (and who knows how many ex-husbands and addictions). In the middle of a 90-minute show, she stumbled at one point (during a dance number). Frustrated, between songs, next she pulled off her heels, peeled off her famous peacock eyebrows, and kinda’ just schlumped up to the edge of the stage front. I swear, I can almost touch her. You can imagine he electricity in those first few rows. Then, she looked everyone straight in the eye and I swear everyone in that audience of perhaps 2,000 must have felt she was looking right at them and talking to them directly. Minnelli confessed that she really was having trouble doing the routines that she’d pulled off with such grace in her 20s and 30s as one of show business’s most dynamic stage performers. Her body simply wouldn’t cooperate with the desire nor the ambition to give and deliver. It was like digging down deep, yet nothing was left–the tank was empty. So, she mustered whatever energy remained in that room and the forgiving audience carried her through, empowered by the genuine authenticity of a shared experience.
Clearly this pause was unplanned and a bit awkward but it was so real and we got to share it. Minnelli, known as the ultimate diva, just stood there barefoot. She might as well have been naked. Call it bearing herself to her audience, her fans, and to the world. You could hear a pin drop. Then, as the opening notes to her showstopper “But the World Goes ‘Round” began to play, standing alone under the spotlight and looking so vulnerable and so spent from life, she looked out into the darkness and in a voice quivering with gratitude said something to the effect, “I just love what I do. I have the greatest job in the world. I want keep on doing this forever!”
Thus began the raspy opening lyric, “Sometimes you’re happy, sometimes you’re sad, but the world goes ’round.”
Any performer who loves what they’re doing and makes an audience happy is okay with me. May they sing forever.
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 14, 2026 in Blog |
DID THE “RESCUED AIRMAN” STORY REALLY HAPPEN?
I don’t typically believe in conspiracy theories, nor pay much attention to them. Most wacko topics deserve to be ignored. Those who post them should also be derided and in extreme cases — tuned out. Unfounded conspiracy theories pollute our perceptions and diminish public trust. Almost all of them are rubbish.
However, after the charade we all witnessed this past Monday with Trump’s ludicrously staged-fake “DoorDash delivery grandma” showing up with at the Oval Office doorstep hoisting two teeming bags full of McDonald’s slop, at this point I wouldn’t put anything past this detestable regime that absolutely and shamelessly lies about anything and everything. Given what we’ve seen many times by now and the utter level of desperation Trump and his half-wit sycophants have reached, I do believe they are capable of attempting almost anything, no matter how villainous, corrupt, or outlandish.
Yeah, if they thought they could get away with something, I’m convinced they’d do it. At this point, would ANYONE be surprised by anything they do?
More than a week has passed since an American airman was “miraculously” rescued in the mountains of Iran. In yet another fist-pumping moment of self-aggrandizement, Trump made a formal speech to the nation and spent nearly 12 minutes of a 20-minute address going into great detail about how the airman survived against incredible odds. Details were included about how he was located, and how he was ultimately rescued. Sure — this entire unprovoked war was a mistake and has turned into an embarrassing shit-show, but from a very human point of view, we were all relieved to know that a brave member of the armed forces was safe and (presumably) going through recovery.
What’s most puzzling about this alleged “rescue story” however, is that we’ve heard absolutely nothing at all about it — since then. So far, no name. No photographs. No interviews. No witnesses. No medical team. Not a mother, nor a father. Not a family member. Not a spouse, or a child. Not a hometown. Nothing at all.
Hmmm. It’s like he disappeared, along with anyone else connected to the rescue operation and recovery. Even the media has gone silent, and one would expect some follow up from someplace.
Let’s be clear: No president in history has ever been more braggadocious about taking full credit for everything. This is a one-man regime propped up with overt nationalism, patriotism, flags, militarism, and so-called “American exceptionalism.” Anyone who might be great propaganda, especially in wartime!, would be the new poster boy of the glorious and godly fight against evil. At the very least, Trump and the loyalists who carry out his foolish madness would be crowing about the rescue and using the airman as a shining example of heroism. Everyone knows this.
So then — where is he? (I presume it’s a *he,* but who knows?). Where’s even one family member who by now would have gone to the media to tell the story? What happened?
I’m not fully convinced the story is false. Not yet. Perhaps it really did happen. If so, that’s a good thing. As horrific as Trump and his dysfunctional cabinet are, I don’t want to see my government staging a farce or lying about decent people who are risking their lives. Few offenses would be more outrageous or would be grounds for a full-scale mass military revolt against the Commander-in-Chief, and if this story turns out of be false, that’s exactly what should happen.
Right now, I remain leaning to some version of the rescued airman story that’s much less spectacular than the way it was described by Trump. We all know he lies much like he breathes. It’s natural for him. I think a fair assumption based on what we know. There probably was a rescue, and one of his loyal flunkies decided to create an outlandish PR stunt, and Trump — susceptible to any opportunity to brag about himself — took the ball and spiked it in the end zone.
I base this admittedly incomplete and preliminary opinion on one additional fact. I don’t trust anything from Trump or Sec. Hegseth. However, I reserve some measure of trust in Gen. Dan Cain, who was present along with Trump and Hegseth at the “official statement” that was given in the briefing room back Apr. 6. I know there have been lying scumbag generals in the past, like Gen. “felon “Flynn. But I don’t believe a 4-star general who is head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff would willingly engage himself in a conspiracy of this nature. If so, we really are in serious trouble much worse than I thought.
I reserve the right to change my mind based on the evidence. But something stinks here. So far, I’ve seen none that proves the rescued airman story happened in any manner close to the way it was described by Trump.
I’m open to persuasion if others wish to share their opinions in the comments section.
__________
CLICK HERE TO JOIN THE DISCUSSION:
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 13, 2026 in Blog |
REVIEW: “BECOMING LED ZEPPELIN” (NETFLIX)
I expected much more from Becoming Led Zeppelin, which as the title suggests, is a music documentary and story-journey about the foundation and formation and early years of one of the most iconic bands in rock history.
Surviving ex-bandmates Robert Plant (vocals), Jimmy Page (lead guitar), and John Paul Jones (bass) — John Bonham (drummer) died in 1980 — previously rejected multiple offers to tell/sell their insider backstory, which only buttered up an already-stoked (and stoned) base and added to widespread anticipation for this long overdue self-portrait.
More than a half century ago, Led Zeppelin’s meteoric album-selling success became amplified by the hedonistic rituals of rock n’ roll excess, corroding into an expectorate orgy of Caligulian decadence, every mesmerizing onstage gyration blurring into yet another after-hours party scene madrigaled with screeching vocals by the bare-chested Welsh-Tarzan frontman interwoven within an explosive cacoon of thundering multi-layered overdrives of blues-infused guitar metal. All these years later, some memories might be dazed and confused, but creating the definitive Led Zeppelin bio-pic could be and should be our stairway to heaven.
In 2024, the British-bon quartet-reduxi-trio was approached by filmmaker Bernard MacMahon (best known for the outstanding “American Epic” series) and soon thereafter the first “officially-authorized” Led Zeppelin documentary began to take shape. “We just decided — it was time,” Robert Plant sheepishly explained.
In an era of rock docu-excesses and often tiresome repetitive overkill, with every name and song and brand for sale and squeezed for the last pound and buck, that’s the understatement of our lifetime. “It was time,” indeed.
Unfortunately, there aren’t many behind-the-scenes revelations in this 90 minute showcase of mostly unseen archival footage and rare early concert performances, nor any great insider stories, that we all hoped for. Perhaps the trio has chosen to forget much of the chaos of their youth when they ruled the rock universe and FM airwaves, but those toasty chestnuts and backstories in whatever their form — inspiring, poignant, emotional, funny, introspective — are the catnip of most great rockumentaries, and this one fails to deliver our much-needed fix.
Looking and sounding simultaneously academic, yet grandfatherly, Plant/Page/Jones were interviewed in what looks like an Ox-bridge-style library. An old 70’s-era interview with Bonham is also included, though unfortunately it doesn’t add much to the portrait. The survivors do provide a functional, if dispassionate narration of the timeline on how Led Zeppelin morphed from the earlier Yardbirds, from studio musicians before, and from the unlikeliest of roots that grew organically and nourished by a genuine love obsession with blues taken to a new genre of rock culture.
To be fair — there are some exceptional moments in this documentary. For instance, I learned that two members of Led Zeppelin played on a well-known James Bond movie soundtrack. In 1965, then-session musicians Jimmy Page and John Paul Jones did the guitar work on the title theme of Goldfinger. There are other fun discoveries in here too, which I won’t give away.
It’s also fascinating to observe the earliest performances by Led Zeppelin, which launched as a hybrid group in September 1968, debuting in Denmark of all places. Seeing first-time black/white footage of kids rushing into a Copenhagen TV studio and surrounding a makeshift cement-floor stage and bare band set with the quartet playing in front of an audience for the first time is just so raw and authentic that it reminds us of what’s desperately missing from much music since and today. Those kids had no clue at the time the rock history they were witnessing.
It important to remember, Led Zeppelin shattered musical conventionalism. Like Dylan and the Beatles shortly before their arrival, nothing was quite the same again nor after them once we heard the first volcanic note of the opening line of that first audio awareness that this was something new and it would be big. Led Zeppelin to this day stands as the ultimate exemplification of artistic honesty and a refusal to compromise. Consider these facts: They weren’t marketed. They weren’t promoted. They weren’t pimped by corrupt DJs. Their success was entirely organic. Led Zeppelin didn’t even warrant an album release in their home country, the U.K. Agreeing to the unheard of caveat that they wouldn’t release any singles nor obsess over charting hit records, legendary Atlantic Record’s visionary founder Ahmet Ertegun signed them just minutes after hearing their demo tape and said, there you go — the world is now yours.
As is shown in this film, the early days were uncertain. Led Zeppelin may have been infused with the throwback sounds of traditional blues, but they were frightening to many. One clip from an early performance shows horned-rimmed glasses parents and school kids sticking fingers in their ears and ducking into a fetal position while Robert Plant wildly swings his hips and screams, “I want to be your backdoor man!” in “Whole Lotta Love.” Remember this was before strict rating codes were abolished, when TV was censored, and the raciest thing on American television was “The Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour.”
One note and one song and once concert at a time, Led Zeppelin gradually built a loyal fan base. By the end of that first 1969 tour, fans were camping overnight for tickets to the show the following day. In Boston, the crowd was so raucous, the band played a single four-hour set, which is pretty remarkable given the new band had recorded just one hour of album material up to that point. Manager Peter Grant famously said, “that was when I knew they’d be the biggest band in the world.” Jimmy Page, his hands raw from playing a four hour set, half-complained, “we wanted to leave, but they just wouldn’t let us go.”
I was annoyed that band manager Peter Grant wasn’t given considerably more focus and extended proper credit in the so-called definitive story of Led Zeppelin’s rise and success. If ever there was a bombastic mad coked-up bull inside the fragile china cabinet of music moxy, it was Grant — the 350 lb. Hells Angel-looking ex-club bouncer plastered with a menacing Fu-Manchu mustache who is widely-acknowledged as the shrewdest manager-agent in rock history. He approached record company negotiations with a $500 fountain pen in one hand, and the attitude of a swinging tire iron in the other. Sign here, or else. Every clause was one Grant fuck you from breaking down and being done. So, he kicked record industry ass. Grant hammered lucrative deals that no other band in the world received, including full control over all their songs, album concepts and designs, date releases, tour schedules, and promotion. No one alive could have delivered that kind of a deal with so much power and control in so many zeros, except for Grant who barreled through the 1960s and 1970s with the force of a human wrecking ball. Obsessed with representing his clients, Grant was even known for prowling the parking lots of stadiums during Led Zeppelin live concerts and hunting down pirate t-shirt venders, even threatening to beat them into a pulp while shutting down a million-dollar concert in mid-show unless local security did their jobs. This ballbuster clearly deserves his own movie.
Led Zeppelin fans are sure to enjoy the music and rare concert footage. While the band’s best material comes somewhat later in their careers, we recognize and appreciate the four bandsmen were always in this for the music. In one memorable scene, Plant and Page look out from the stage and see a small crowd at one of their earliest performances. Disappointment wasn’t on the setlist. The looked at each other and said, let’s play this gig the best we can and pretend we’re only playing for each other. And so, that genuine togetherness become one of the defining characteristics of the band, which always seemed so tight-knit, so connected, so in tune with each other. They played as much for each other, as themselves. And the fame and success and girls and money, that was just a bonus. Oh, and who can ever forget the fireplace on the Led Zeppelin airplane?
That musical authenticity remains as a powerful testament to the legendary band, to their ongoing legacy, to the music which endures to the day and continues to cast a spell. When the levee breaks, we’re consumed by an infinity of possibilities.
This documentary is currently available on Netflix. I rank it at 6 on a 10 scale, not so much because there’s anything wrong with it but due to the fact it leaves us wanting so much more.
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 11, 2026 in Blog |
IRAN TELLS TRUMP….”LOOK AT ME, I’M THE CAPTAIN, NOW.”
So, the incompetent corrupt imbecilic deranged idiot who doesn’t bother to read his own government’s intelligence reports…..who won’t listen to his own advisors….who naively disregards experts with a lifetime of diplomatic experience in the field….who has no grasp of history….who learned nothing at all from two previous failed wars in the Middle East…..who lies incessantly to everyone…..and who (by his own admission!) decided to follow his “gut feelings” to attack a mighty powerful and proud and clearly dangerous nation of 90 million buttressed with the world’s 10th largest armed forces, and is loaded with ballistic missiles and drones with close proximity to multiple targets throughout the region (including U.S. bases), and has developed strong alliances with both Russia and China.
Any more bright ideas, orange dumb-ass?
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 8, 2026 in Blog |
KEGS-BREATH SPINS THE FACTS AND SPEWS THE BULLSHIT
Sycophant of Defense, Peter “Kegs-breath” Hegseth’s bumbling press conference early this morning should have been an SNL skit. No need to hire an actor, though Jim Carey as Ace Ventura: Pet Detective nailed the creepy-cringe best. Or perhaps it was LIAR LIAR.
Kegger’s lengthy list of ludicrous lies, errrr I mean “responses” to media questions on Wednesday about the so-called Iran-U.S. “ceasefire” [1] was an astonishing display of self-delusion. I didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. All that was missing from the clown circus was the rampaging gorilla pounding his chest with a calliope as the soundtrack.
da da da da dada….da da da da dada…dunda da dunda….dunda dunda da da…..
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 7, 2026 in Blog |
THE RISE AND FALL OF PLANET EARTH (EARTHRISE REDUX)
There’s a painfully bitter irony to NASA’s Artemis space mission *up there* and what’s happening *down here* right now.
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 5, 2026 in Blog |
TRUMPS ‘”SPIRITUAL ADVISOR” SHARES HER THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS
Wrapped in a fresh new facelift that resembles frantically trying to stretch a queen-size fitted sheet over a king-size mattress while karate-chopping the tuck into a hopelessly stuffed crevice, here is Trump’s own personal “spiritual advisor” comparing him to the Lordy Jesus Christ on this holy (shit!) Easter Bunny Sunday.
Meanwhile, in his own early morning social media post likely made from the epicenter of Western Civilization — the White House bedroom toilet — her cult mob boss threatened to murder millions of innocent men, women, children, pets, and goldfish…..dropped the fuck-bomb….and slandered 1.3 billion Muslims.
Ho hum….just another Sunday morning in the Divided States of Madness in 2026.
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Apr 3, 2026 in Blog |
ALL TRUMP DOES IS LIE — ALL THE TIME, ABOUT EVERYTHING
[AND NOW, IT’S COSTING AMERICAN LIVES AND BILLIONS IN WASTEFUL DESTRUCTION]
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Mar 31, 2026 in Blog |
THE MOTIVE BEHIND POLITICAL “CONVERSION” REVEALS EVERYTHING
Yesterday, I posted a short and quick video-reel rant which was diced with some humor asking how we should react to former MAGA activists and ex-Trumpers who finally see the light of day. I need to follow-up on that tirade today, because I left something out which is very important.
That omission on my part is — MOTIVES.
The MOTIVES behind political “conversation” tells us all we need to know. We must ask those who allegedly decide to leave the MAGA cult — what made them finally change their minds?
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Posted by Nolan Dalla on Mar 30, 2026 in Blog |
LIVING WITH ALZHEIMER’S: AN UPDATE
I’d like to share something deeply personal because it might help other people who are dealing with a serious problem, nationally and globally. Even if you don’t think this is an issue now, it’s very likely to impact many people out there — whether it’s ourselves or a loved one. Alzheimers (and/or dementia) will impact about one-third of all Americans at some point in their lives, either personally or someone within their immediate family.
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