I couldn’t feel worse for Whitney Houston and her family -- particularly her minor daughter who she was apparently taking to clubs where alcohol was served (and who- knows-what was available in the bathroom!) -- over the last several years.
As great as her tragedy was, it was more for a kid. God bless, and help, her!
On the other hand, as an artist, it was hard to have any but the best feeling for Whitney. I know a little about it, from both a professional and personal level. And the telling thereof may say something about both the music business and the journalists who follow it.
To wit, at one point in my life, me.
I’ve already written about my experiences with the Rolling Stones during the recording of their classic album “Exile on Main Street,” not to mention the early days of the Ramones. But I knew them long before I...