Hector has a love/hate relationship with The Lefsetz Letter…so he manages this internal conflict by offering this, The Hector Letter. As Bob himself might say, “Because it’s RELEVANT”.
I remember the time when the best things in life were my Technics 1200, a huge pair of cans, and a thick slice of vinyl called THRILLER. That’s when cans were headphones, and the curly wire bound me to the turntable while it simultaneously set me free.
1982 was an amazing year. I was hanging with Kool Moe Dee and Kurtis Blow before the world got to know them. We called Kurtis, “Kurtis with a K” but that’s another story. And Shockingly, KMD was no PYT, and the streets belonged to the boy from Gary, Indiana. He was the WORLD, he was the CHILDREN.
I realized then the basic facts of life: release a disc that ships platinum, and you can nail any chick you want. But Michael didn’t want that. He wanted different things, and who were we to ask why? ‘Cuz when they say why (why), just tell ‘em that it’s human nature.
Today’s dudes and dudettes can’t understand it. And before I toss Iovine on my musical cuts, I gotta wonder: does he get it? Does he know what’s it’s like to stop the world and make it ROCK? Does he know what it’s like to ride the boogie? Are we really gonna look to Adam Lambert to redeem our musical souls? Did we forget that music is born in the soul and raised in the streets?
Do we really think that it can be manufactured in a board room and packaged in guyliner?
Oh man. If we do, I don’t want to. Just send me back to ‘82. Back when the girl was MINE.
R.I.P. M.J.
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