Helloooooo, Adele is baaaaaack‏

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

Gawd knows, I’m part of the Minority Report, but, try as I may, I am just not getting the new track by Adele and its accompanying music video. I fully understand that Mother Adele is up for sainthood, and how this aperitif before the main course arrives is something we have been waiting for almost three years following her brilliant last album, but, unlike millions of others, I am not feeling it, not that the chanteuse could care less. From all reports, the new record will be bigger than when Moses managed to part the Red Seas.

The five second teaser kinda whet the appetite for something stunning even though I have a particular allergic reaction to any song that starts off with the word “Hello”. Jeff Lynne got away with it on ELO’s “Telephone Line”, as did Todd Rundgren with “Hello It’s Me” long before anyone else opened a song with a Hallmark greeting card, but opening a song with “Hello” belongs exclusively to Lionel Ritchie.

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MAX HOLE

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

There are music guys who become music executives, there are music executives who should never have been allowed into the music industry, and then there are music guys who become music executives who become music moguls and lose all sight of why they joined the music industry in the first place. Jimmy Iovine is a perfect example of the latter species- pretentious from what he wears to the Apple watch he shows off as if part of a product placement deal to the verbiage spewing from his mouth and, these days, a sad caricature of the fat cat, hip-talking musical “visionary” intent only on being a bigger corporate fat cat. And then there’s Max Hole.

The news that Max is stepping down as Chairman and Chief Executive of Universal Music Group International is no surprise. Following contracting encephalitis after a trip to this region- Asia- almost a year ago, he has battled memory loss and the battle continues. He’s no quitter and he’ll be back. Wait and see.

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LESSONS STILL BEING TAUGHT BY THE BEATLES ABOUT MUSIC, PACKAGING AND WITH NO NEED TO GO FISHING IN THE STREAM

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

The photograph above of Actress Mia Farrow staring or tripping out while looking at the cover of the Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour” album made me realise just how much music- and the music industry- has lost to the digital age, especially when it comes to feeling what was recorded in those grooves- all that creativity that went into the music, yes, but also into everything that made up the creative process- and how we must get that back to that thinking if we’re to move outta the quagmire that has many of us stuck in the middle of nowhere with no particular place to go.

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THE PLASTIC HALLWAY OF THE MUSIC INDUSTRY‏

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

It takes a lot for a train to cry and it takes a lot for a dam to burst and, gawd knows, it takes having to sidestep so many half-baked promises, and flimflam fakers to get to halfway near nowhere as a- I don’t really know, anymore. A chanteuse? Recording artist- and what does this mean anymore? A “YouTube sensation”? And if without the appeal of a Shawn Mendes, forget it. There are no twenty and thirtysomething YouTube sensations. Or is being in music today someone making time, wasting time doing the music foxtrot at tired old lounges at five-star hotels where usually female singers retread Diana Krall territory as regulars talk business and try to be heard over voices lost in the dark?


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MICHAEL OWEN, BROWN PANTHER, AND REFLECTIONS ON HORSE RACING

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

To those who might think that horse racing is littered with one dimensional people with two bit plans, the incredible outpouring of grief on hearing the heartbreaking news that Michael Owen’s Brown Panther had to be put down showed that the sport has a heart and those that follow it are its heartbeat. Reading the line, “I was with him when he was born and I gave him his last kiss goodbye” was particularly gut wrenching.

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I AM YOU AND YOU ARE ME AND WE ARE ALL TOGETHER

By Hans Ebert
@hanseberthk

It’s like being that hamster on a treadmill where you keep going and going and going, but feel you’re going nowhere, which is like giving and giving and giving and getting nothing in return. Put these all together and you’re reminded of Lennon cutting through the Yeah Yeahs and with that voice of resignation singing, “I’m so tired, I don’t know what to do,” cursing Sir Walter Raleigh, probably for his daft act of chivalry, before deciding that enough was enough and went from being a weekend warrior and radical peacenik before realising that baking bread and being a househusband and father to his Beautiful Boy was far more important.

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