Music: August 2006 Archives

When a celeb couple splits, apparently the whole entourage gets involved. The Associated Press reports that one of Paul McCartney's security guards called the cops Monday night when one of Heather Mills McCartney's guards scaled the wall of her soon-to-be-ex's estate. Seems Sir Paul had the locks changed on the gate. Despite that rolling up of the welcome mat, Heather and 2-year-old Beatrice entered the house and spent the night.
OK, so there are security guards on duty at all hours, publicists for each stepping in to downplay a trespassing complaint and other unflattering stories, the accountants controlling the frozen joint account and, of course, dueling teams of solicitors for the legal proceedings. Although they could not make their marriage work, Sir Paul and Heather should be commended for the positive impact their divorce is having on the London economy.

So they may be blowing one another up elsewhere in the world, but Muslims, Jews and Christians have found one thing upon which they can agree: Madonna's crucifixion act is a bad thing.

How easily distracted can we as a species be, anyway? "Oh, this situation in the Middle East is terrifyingly out of control -- wait, Mel Gibson did what?" "Anyway, U.S. policy seems to have backfired ... omigosh, what's Madonna doing to that cross?"

Given that there's no shortage of cheesy crucifixion imagery littering the pop-culture landscape, isn't Madonna's sheer hubris behind what she's doing at least as offensive as the fact that she's doing it? If it meant establishing peace elsewhere, it might be worth it for the sundry faiths to band together to declare full-scale war on Madge; that, at least, might be a winnable campaign. (I'm surprised someone didn't think of this after "Swept Away.")

Even with a gentle breeze blowing through the upper tiers of the Hollywood Bowl -- or perhaps because of it -- there was no mistaking the presence of many a joint being passed Monday night among fans of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young (who put on a fantastic show, by the way). It's no surprise that these boomers would want to relive the entire sensory experience of the first time they heard "Ohio," "Immigration Man" or "Southern Cross." But there's something weirdly comforting in knowing that, although they have so completely evolved into The Establishment with their cars, their mortgages and their 401ks, there are a lot of 50- and 60-somethings who "know a guy" in Topanga.
I did not puff any weed myself, but I want to thank the tokers of Section T1 for bringing some stuff so pungent that it actually masked the fragrance of a nearby skunk. And for helping my usually rockin' 'n' rollin' 8-year-old son to sleep very soundly through the last third of the show and all the way home.