![JohnnyHatesJazzShatteredDreams1987A[1]](http://popdose.com/wp-content/uploads/JohnnyHatesJazzShatteredDreams1987A1.jpg "JohnnyHatesJazzShatteredDreams1987A[1]")
When I was a kid, I wanted nothing more than to be a rock star (as did many of you, I imagine). While my friends were off breakdancing, playing with marbles, or arranging elaborate battles between G.I. Joe dolls, I was spinning my mom’s old Billy Joel, Elton John, and Eagles records on a Fisher-Price turntable, daydreaming of a life of hotels, screaming crowds, and platinum sales. It is, as I said, not an uncommon dream, and although I followed it longer than most (and probably longer than I should have), I never came anywhere near the kind of success I imagined, for two reasons: One, I wasn’t very good, and two, that life doesn’t really exist.
Well, I don’t know. Maybe it does if you’re Eric Clapton, or Barbra Streisand, or one of the very few artists who have sold a ton of records and/or haven’t been divorced often enough to ever have to worry about money. But really, for most stars — even the ones who have been lucky enough to score some hits and earn some name recognition — music is still a job. It’s a really cool job, but still, it doesn’t keep you from having to worry about ordinary stuff like professional security, career advancement, and financial stability. It isn’t very glamorous, but it’s about the best anyone who’s dreaming about “making it” in the music business can hope for — a rewarding life, but one not without many of the same workplace anxieties the rest of us experience. Most of us don’t know what it’s like to hear ourselves on the radio. We do, however, know what it’s like to look for work, or lose a job without warning; it’s a nerve-wracking ordeal, to which many of the people appearing on our favorite albums can relate.
It’s a side of the dream we don’t think about or discuss much, and in order to explore it, I reached out to three musicians who have experienced the ups and downs of a career in music, and they were all gracious enough to take some time to discuss what it’s like for a rock star to lose a job — and where to go from there. (more…)
As of this writing it is the wrinkly end to the middle of March (the 21st, for those who hate metaphor) and rumor and tempers are rumbling in the camp of Velvet Revolver. Yes indeed, Velvet Revolver, that bastion of rock ‘n’ roll dedicated to the pursuit of … well, the pursuit of … uh … you know, I’m not really sure what they’re in pursuit of. Slash isn’t hurting for cash, as I’m sure he’s getting a little money out of his Guns ‘N’ Roses tenure. Surely someone distracts Axl with a hunk of chum on a dangling string while someone else spirits away the rest of the band’s dues. And even if that wasn’t so, he must have some kind of back end for his Guitar Hero appearances. Lead singer Scott Weiland, fresh from his zilteenth rehab stint, couldn’t possibly have gotten so ripped that all his funds are gone. Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum shouldn’t be hurting either, so the only victim may be Dave Kushner (who?) and perhaps anyone who spent money on the band’s last bland effort Libertad. The most interesting track on the album (a cover of E.L.O.’s “Can’t Get It Out Of My Head”) wasn’t even theirs, and was interesting only because someone, presumably Weiland, thought it would be brilliant to change most of the lyrics. That alone should have been an indicator that someone wasn’t thinking this outing through clearly.
I actually called it back in October when the sales figures for Libertad started coming in, tellingly on the low end of expectations. Weiland was intimating that a Stone Temple Pilots reunion was imminent and the rest of VR seemed conspicuously absent. I said that it appeared a collapse of Audioslave proportions was on the horizon. Sadly, I was right — for you see, dear reader, I was actually pulling for Velvet Revolver to buck the trend. Sure, their music never truly rose from the uncomfortable mash-up of GNR and STP, but it wasn’t like they had a talent deficit if they tried. I don’t think they tried. As I said previously, they milked the inheritance they had and that was that. When Audioslave splintered, we got Chris Cornell farting up a brown funk and calling it fresh baked cookies and (yuck) Rage Against the Machine reunited. 