The real deal from The Lefsetz Letter

There was no backdrop. No patter. None of the trappings of today's music extravaganzas, which too often resemble Broadway as opposed to the Fillmore. Once upon a time music was something you listened to. Now it's become something you see. And we're worse off for it.

Call it the MTV hangover.

Attribute it to high ticket prices.


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But if you took today's kids to a Stevie Winwood show they'd be amazed. They'd get a glimpse into how it once was. When we went to the show to be set free, to leave all our issues and failings behind. When there were no tapes, no hard drives, because live shows were about experimentation, with every performance just a little bit different, with surprises and imperfections just like life.

And there was jamming. And solos. And a blistering rendition of "Dear Mr. Fantasy." And it was everything a concert once was. The essence. The experience. Something you remembered in your head as opposed to with a t-shirt. Something you felt. Something that was such an incredible peak that not only did you go see this act the next time they came through, but other bands on a regular basis, because this was the highest point of your life, in the chapel of music, at the show.

We built it without anybody watching.

Once upon a time they featured this music on AM radio.

But then FM burgeoned and the acts thought of the possibilities. They took risks. They went on adventures. We learned about them via word of mouth. Whatever path we were on now changed. This is how powerful the music once was.