I CRIED IN RICK RUBINS SHOWER
I just found the piece I wrote after visiting that boomer Xanadu and, Jesus, the decor details still sting: "From the foothills of the Sunset Strip, up the West Hollywood incline, past shrub, Porsche and Humvee, and through iron gates therein. Here, far from the wants and cravings of our earthly sphere, sits Rick Rubin, contemplating the Tao of Rock. [blah-blah-blah...] One quails upon entering the dark, spacious mansion, with its giant Buddha flanked by a grand piano and a harpsichord [...blah-blah...] The room-lining shelves filled with hundreds of books [...blah-blah...] A giant stuffed polar bear (named Harry) [!] looms over the sofa and a black Hungarian Puli (named Monday) trots by the door." And if all that's not enough, dude wound monitor off-site recording sessions, live, through these "zebrawood-paneled speakers custom-made in Germany by Audio Physic, glass-encased Hovland tube ampliers, an Ayre CD player." Ok, I gotta go jump out my window now, bye.
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