the TrueFans AMP—Magazine Issue 132

“If art is to nourish the roots of our culture, society must set the artist free to follow  his vision wherever it takes him.” 
— John F. Kennedy

In This Issue... 18 pages (about 27ish minutes to read) You'll Get...  ____________________ 

• Recommends—the Kennedy Center: Turning Recommends into an Obituary for a  Cultural Institution that Was Hijacked. 

• Your BIZ—What Makes a TrueFans Performance 

• in partnership with Tony Conniff 

• Greatest Music Artist of All Time—Joan Jett Took Rock 'n' Roll and Changed It.  Forever. 

• Feature Editorial—When Artists Aren’t First, the Music Is Last by John Fogg 

• P.S. from PS—the Space Between Songs

Here’s the playlist

Obituary—The Kennedy Center (1971–2026) There are deaths that arrive quietly, and there are deaths announced by paperwork, press releases, and phrases like “closed for two years.” This is that. 

• Recommends—the Kennedy Center: Turning Recommends into an Obituary for a Cultural Institution that Was Hijacked.
by John Fogg 

The Kennedy Center did not collapse from neglect. 
It did not fail from lack of audience, relevance, or artistic vitality. 
It was not abandoned. 
It was taken apart while still alive. 

After an extensive, expensive renovation—funded, justified, and celebrated as an  investment in the future—the institution has been effectively shuttered. Not for safety. Not for necessity. But for reasons so thin, shifting, and self-serving they insult the intelligence of anyone who has ever sat in those seats or wished they were there. 

Call it what it is. 
This is not stewardship. 
It’s vandalism... with a pen. 

For decades, the Kennedy Center served a role few institutions even attempted anymore: it trusted audiences. It trusted curiosity. It trusted that people could fall in love with music and artists they didn’t already know, didn’t already agree with, didn’t already have fed to them by an algorithm. 

It was a place of discovery. 
Of surprise. 
Of celebration. 
Of joy. 

The TrueFans AMP™ has lauded the Center repeatedly—not for prestige, but for its  programming courage: the series, the showcases, the honoring, the deep dives into  music and musicians most Americans would never encounter otherwise. That wasn’t “diversity theater.”  

That was culture doing its job. 

And those Honors. 
For years, my mother and I watched the Kennedy Center Honors distant, but together me in Virginia, my mom in Pennsylvania. One of the last award shows that didn’t feel  like a hostage situation. No hustle. No clout-chasing. No performative outrage. Just  reverence. Context. Artists honoring artists. Celebration. Families, generations, and  genres meeting in the same living room. We loved it. 

Those nights mattered to me. 
They still do. 
But not this year... 

What’s happening now erases all of that with bureaucratic indifference and ideological shrugs. Closing a major cultural institution for two years—after sweepingly renovating it—is not a neutral act. It is a choice. A destructive one. A choice that disproportionately harms working musicians, emerging artists, technicians, educators, and fans who believed this place belonged to them too. 

And here’s the part that history will remember clearly: 

The artists walked away. 
Not because it was easy. 
Not because it was fashionable. 
But because it was necessary. 

When musicians and performers refuse to lend their names, their work, and their credibility to something that violates the very purpose of art, that isn’t “political grandstanding.” That is integrity in action. That is artists saying,  

“If this is the cost, we won’t pay.” 

That courage deserves to be recorded. 

What has befallen the Kennedy Center is not complicated. It is not nuanced. It is not  defensible. No explanation offered so far justifies the scale of the damage or the casual  disregard for cultural life. 

This isn’t a pause. 
It’s a burial. 

And the TrueFans AMP is under no obligation to whisper politely at the graveside. We call this what it is: a gravedigger’s spade, swung by people who confuse control  with leadership and silence with order. 

The building may reopen someday. 
What it stood for will not return so easily. 

A great performance can impress people. A TrueFans Performance does something  rarer—it includes them. 

• Your BIZ—What Makes a TrueFans Performance 
At Any Scale. Any Room. Any Career Stage. 

Whether you’re playing a stadium or a coffeehouse, just starting out or coming around  on the guitar for the umpteenth time, TrueFans aren’t created by spectacle alone.  They’re created by connection—felt, personal, human, connection. 

The good news? That kind of performance is available to every Music Artist, everywhere. 

Presence Beats Polish 
TrueFans don’t come from hiding until downbeat and disappearing at the encore. They  come from availability. 

Being seen before the show. Being human during it. Being reachable after—if only for a moment with the merch. 

That doesn’t mean glad-handing or draining yourself. It means letting people feel that  you’re there with them, not performing at them. 

As Bruce Springsteen put it: 

“The audience doesn’t come to see you be perfect.  
They come to see you be present.” 

Presence is a two-way street. Felt instantly and... remembered. 

Context Turns Songs Into Stories 
Songs land harder when people know where they came from. 
A brief line about why you wrote it. 
A moment about when it mattered most to you. 
A sentence that says, “Here’s what to listen for.” 
You’re not explaining the song—you’re opening a door. 

That’s why Joni Mitchell once said: 

“People don’t just listen to songs.  
They listen to lives.” 

Context gives people a place to stand emotionally. From there, the music does the rest. 

Interaction Creates Belonging 
Applause is appreciation. 
Interaction is participation. 

The moment an audience responds—laughs, sings back, raises a hand, answers a question—they cross an invisible line. They stop being observers and start becoming part of something. Shared. Experienced. 

That’s not accidental. It has to be designed. 

David Byrne framed it perfectly: 

“Music is social. If it’s not connecting people  
in the room, something’s missing.” 

TrueFans don’t just watch the show. They co-create it. 

Covers as Connection, Not Crutches 
A well-chosen cover isn’t about showing chops. It’s about shared language. When you play a song people already love, you’re saying: 

I know your world. 
I’m part of this lineage. 
We already have something in common. 

That shared ground makes people more open to your originals—because trust has been established. Recognized. Grounded. 

“You earn the right to be heard by honoring what people already care about.”
—Bonnie Raitt 

Covers are bridges. Use them that way. 

The Invitation Most Artists Skip 
Hope is not a strategy. 

A TrueFans Performance always includes a clear, human invitation—to stay connected, to come say hello, to follow the story beyond tonight. 

Not salezy. Not awkward. Not hustle. Just honest. 

People want to know what’s next—if you give them permission to care. Amanda Palmer has said it better than anyone: 

“The real question isn’t how do we make  
people pay. It’s how do we let them.” 

An invitation is how you let them. 

Merch as Memory 
People don’t buy merch because you asked. 
They buy it because they want to take the experience home with them. A shirt, a vinyl, a lyric sheet—it’s a physical reminder of a moment that mattered. 

When merch is contextual, personal, and offered with gratitude, it stops feeling  transactional and starts feeling like a shared artifact. 

“If a song meant something to you, you want proof it existed.” 
—Jason Isbell 

That’s what great merch provides: proof of connection. 

Appreciation Is the Through-Line 
Say thank you. 
Mean it. 
Say it again. 

On stage. After the show. In the follow-up email. In person. 

TrueFans aren’t created by clever tactics. They’re created by people who feel  appreciated—and who know their presence mattered. 

As Tom Petty said: 

“People don’t forget how you make them feel. Ever.” 

The Quiet Test 
After the show, ask yourself—not analytically, but honestly: 

Did anyone stay longer than they needed to? 
Did someone bring a friend over to meet you? 
Did a conversation turn personal? 
Did someone ask, “Where can I find you?” 

If yes—you gave a TrueFans Performance. 

Even if the room was small. 
Even if the night wasn’t perfect. 
Even if... You gave a TrueFans Performance. 

Before the lights.  
Before the first note.  
Before anyone decides whether this matters.

A TrueFans Performance doesn’t begin when you play. It begins when people feel  included. 

That’s the difference between a night out… and the start of a lasting relationship. 

One More Thing (and it matters more than most people admit) If you were forced to choose just one place to build a lasting TrueFans career—not streaming, not social, not ads, not algorithms... 

a LIVE TrueFans Performance would win. Every time. 

Because live music is not content. 
It’s contact.  
Connection.  

A live show compresses time. In one shot, people can hear your voice, see your  humanity, feel your intention, and decide—emotionally, not intellectually—whether they want more of you in their lives. 

That’s why live performance is the best building  
material for TrueFans there is. 

Songs are the rooms. 
Stories are the windows. 
Interaction is the doorway. 
Appreciation is the foundation. 

Each show adds another beam, another nail, another shared memory. Streaming can introduce you. 
Social can remind people you exist. 
But LIVE performance is where the TrueFans house actually gets built.
Strong. 
Personal. 
And able to last a long, long time.

• in partnership with Tony Conniff 

Joan Jett didn’t just kick down the door for women in rock. She burned the house down, rebuilt it louder, tougher, and truer—and then handed the keys to everyone who had been told they didn’t belong. 

• Greatest Music Artist of All Time—Joan Jett Took Rock 'n' Roll and  Changed It. Forever. 

I Love Rock ’n’ Roll—and I Changed It 

There are Singer Songwriters who write great songs. 
There are performers who own the stage. 
Then there are the rare few who change the game.  
That's what Joan Jett did.
 
“Joan Jett is a trailblazer who changed what rock music allows and who it allows in.”
—Shirley Manson 

From the outside, her music can look deceptively simple—three chords, a snarling hook, a voice that dares you to argue. But beneath that surface lives one of the most  uncompromising artistic careers in modern music. Joan Jett didn’t follow trends, polish  edges, or wait for approval. She wrote songs that sounded like truth, played them like she meant them, and built a career that proved independence wasn’t a slogan—it was a  strategy. 

The Songs That Wouldn’t Back Down 
Joan Jett’s catalog is a masterclass in clarity and conviction. Her biggest hits—I Love  Rock ’n’ Roll, Bad Reputation, Crimson and Clover, Do You Wanna Touch Me, I Hate  Myself for Loving You—don’t beg for attention. They declare themselves. 

“Joan Jett is rock and roll stripped to its truth—fearless, loud, and impossible to  ignore.” 
—Debbie Harry 

I Love Rock ’n’ Roll became one of the most recognizable anthems in popular music history, topping charts worldwide and turning Jett into a global icon. But it wasn’t a novelty smash—it was a statement. Loud guitars. No apology. No softness added for radio comfort. 

Bad Reputation did something even more subversive: it rejected the need to explain  oneself at all. That song has become an anthem for outsiders, rebels, artists, and anyone who ever refused to play the role assigned to them. 

Records, Sales, and Staying Power 
With Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, she sold over 50 million records worldwide, earned  multiple platinum and gold albums, and placed nine Top-40 singles on the Billboard  charts. Albums like I Love Rock ’n’ Roll, Album, Glorious Results of a Misspent Youth, and Up Your Alley weren’t just commercially successful—they were culturally durable. 

But numbers alone don’t tell the real story. 

“If rock and roll has a backbone, Joan Jett is part of it.” 
—Bruce Springsteen 

What matters more is that those records never aged out. Joan Jett’s music keeps finding  new generations because it doesn’t belong to a moment—it belongs to an attitude. 

The Ultimate Independent Move: Blackheart Records 
After being rejected by 23 record labels, Joan Jett didn’t compromise—she co-founded  Blackheart Records with longtime collaborator Kenny Laguna. 

That decision made her one of the earliest and most  
successful artist-owned label pioneers in rock history.  

Long before “own your masters” became industry gospel, Joan Jett was already living it. Blackheart Records didn’t just release her music. It became a blueprint for artist  autonomy—creative control, fair business, and long-term sustainability. For Music Artists navigating today’s fractured industry, this may be her most important legacy of all. 

“I write songs because I have something to say.  
I don’t sit around thinking about whether it fits  
a format. If it’s honest, it works.” 

Live Power and Collaboration 
Joan Jett is a relentless live performer. Her concerts are stripped of spectacle and full of electricity—tight bands, loud guitars, no filler. She has shared stages and collaborated with artists across generations, from punk and hard rock legends to modern alt-rock torchbearers. 

She’s toured with and influenced artists who understand that rock music is a contact sport—you don’t watch it; you feel it. 

Recognition and Awards 
In 2015, Joan Jett was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, a recognition long  overdue. But industry honors were never the point. Her real awards are the thousands of artists who saw her and thought, Oh. We’re allowed to do this. 

“Joan Jett is proof that women never needed permission to be loud, aggressive, and  real.” 
—Kathleen Hanna  

Personal Life, Integrity, and Activism 
Joan Jett has guarded her personal life fiercely—and intentionally. In an industry obsessed with access, she chose privacy. That, too, was a form of resistance. 

What she has shared publicly is her unwavering commitment to animal rights, LGBTQ+ equality, and social justice causes—supporting organizations like PETA and standing as  a visible ally long before it was safe or popular to do so. 

She never marketed her identity. She lived it. And that honesty resonates just as loudly  as her music. 

“Joan Jett is one of the toughest, most authentic artists this music has ever  produced.” 
—Dave Grohl 

Influence: The Shockwave Effect 
You can hear Joan Jett’s influence everywhere—whether artists realize it or not. From  punk to grunge, from riot grrrl to indie rock, her fingerprints are all over modern songwriting: direct language, emotional fearlessness, and the refusal to soften truth for comfort. 

She proved you didn’t need permission, polish, or a gatekeeper to make music that lasts. You needed conviction—and the courage to stay loud. 

For Singer Songwriters today, Joan Jett stands as proof that clarity beats complexity, ownership beats approval, and truth—played loud—outlives trends. 

She didn’t just love rock ’n’ roll. 
She meant it. 

Somewhere along the way, the artist stopped being first. When that happens, the music doesn’t just suffer—it gets pushed to the back of the line. This is about how that happened, and why it matters now. 

• Feature Editorial—When Artists Aren’t First, the Music Is Last by John Fogg Everybody talks about “Artists First” like it’s an accounting problem. Percentages. Royalty rates. Advances. Recoupment. Who gets paid when. Yes—all of that matters. 

And yes, the industry has perfected the art of the long con: signing away rights, inflating expenses, charging artists for their own marketing, their own radio “promotion,” their own tour support… sometimes even the damn pizza in the green room—before a penny of royalties ever shows up. 

That’s theft with paperwork. 

But here’s the thing almost nobody talks about: 

When artists are pushed to third… twelfth… dead last in the line, music itself is what pays the real price. 

Because the deepest damage isn’t financial. 
It’s creative. 

When artists aren’t first, music stops being the point. 
It becomes product. 
Content. 
Inventory. 
Units to move. 
Tracks to feed the machine. 
And the machine doesn’t care about truth. 
It cares about velocity—and the math. 

So What Happens? 
Artists stop listening inward and start listening upward. 
To algorithms. 
To trend reports. 
To what “works.” 
To what’s “playlist-friendly.” 
To what doesn’t offend, disrupt, challenge, or take too long to unfold. 

Risk dies first. 
Then nuance. 
Then patience. 
Then soul. 

That’s the hidden toll of Artists Last. 

When survival depends on pleasing systems instead of serving songs, the songs change. 

They get shorter. 
Safer. 
More familiar. 
Less dangerous. 
And danger—real emotional danger—is where great music lives. 

Music that plays it safe... isn't 
Historically, music has been a place for saying what couldn’t be said anywhere else. 

For grief. 
For rage. 
For transcendence. 
For devotion. 
For protest. 
For healing. 

But you can’t make that kind of music when you’re exhausted, indebted, rushed, and  afraid of being dropped. 

You can’t sing freely when you’re contractually muzzled. 

You can’t write bravely when your rent depends on pleasing an algorithm that refreshes every Friday. 

Artists Last Creates Music Last. 

Not last on the charts. 
Last in meaning. 

This is why “Artists First” isn’t simply a slogan. 

A cultural survival issue 
Putting artists first doesn’t mean coddling them. 

It means respecting the role they play as listeners first, translators second, and  messengers always. 

When artists are first: 

• Songs get time to become themselves 
• Albums can have arcs, not just singles 
• Weird ideas survive long enough to matter 
• Honesty beats polish 
• Depth beats speed 

And fans can feel the difference—even if they can’t articulate it. 

That’s why the TrueFans idea matters so much at this level. 

Not because it’s fair. 
Not because it’s ethical. 
Not even because it works financially (though it does). 
But because it restores the proper order: 

Artist → Music → Fan 
Not  
Platform → Product → Artist 

When artists are supported directly—by people who actually care—the music gets room to breathe again. 
And when music breathes, it heals. 
It challenges. 
It lasts. 

So yeah—rage at the rip-offs. 
Call out the scams. 
Expose the bad contracts. 
But don’t miss the bigger truth: 

When artists aren’t first, the music is last. 

And when the music is last, we all lose something we don’t know how to replace. 
That’s the rant. 
And honestly? 
It’s also the TrueFans Mission. 

__________  

About John Fogg 
John Fogg is the editor of the TrueFans AMP™, co-creator of New Music Lives™, and a lifelong writer, listener, and fan of great songs and the people who make them. A million-selling author (The Greatest Networker in the World), Fogg has written and  coached artists, entrepreneurs, and visionaries for more than four decades.

Through the TrueFans AMP™, he champions a new generation of Music Artists building  sustainable careers—Making Right Now Money and having Fans Forever—and Helping Music Artists build real careers—without selling their soul.

Most Music Artists think the performance is the songs—that's what the audience paid  for—but it’s not. The songs open the door. It's what happens between them creates the  experience. 

• P.S. from PS—the Space Between Songs 
I’ve been thinking a lot about performance lately. 
Not just the songs. 
Not just the set list. 
Not even the sound. 

The space between songs. 

That’s where the real work happens.  
That's where TrueFans are created. 

I’ve watched Springsteen on Broadway more than once. I consider it a MasterClass in  connection. Yes, the songs were powerful. Yes, the stripped-down arrangements were  intimate. Unique. But that’s not what made it unforgettable. 

It was the talking. 
The stories. 
The pauses. 

The confessions. 
The eye contact. 
That's what was special. 

Bruce once described those nights as “conversations with the audience.” That’s exactly what they felt like. Not a show at us. A conversation with us. 

And in that space—between one song ending and the next beginning—something shifts. The audience stops being an audience. 
They start becoming participants. 
They lean in.  

They see you and they feel seen, because  
you made it important to see them. 

And that’s when a fan becomes a TrueFan. 
Sometimes even something closer... a TrueFriend. 

You walk out of a night like that feeling like you know the artist. And somehow… they know you. 

Here’s what I hope you know: 

Your songs draw people in. 
But your humanity—spoken, shared, revealed in that quiet space between songs—is  what bonds them to you. 

That’s true in a theater. 
It’s true in a coffeehouse. 
It’s true on a livestream. 
It’s true on a Zoom house concert. 

When you let people inside the story behind the song… 
When you risk being a little unscripted… 
When you slow down instead of rushing to the next chord… 
When you make I personal... 
You build something bigger than applause. 

You build relationship. Friendship. Partnership. 

And those “ships” sail on into the breathtakingly beautiful sunset of a lasting career. So don’t rush the silence.... the space between songs. 

That’s where your future is born. 

Until we talk again…

Thank You So Much for reading the TrueFans AMP™ Magazine.
Give us your feedback. Please...  

It's Time... for a Change. Big Time. Past Time… 

____________________ 

New Music Lives™, Inc 
4101 Corrales Road, Unit 1776,
Albuquerque, NM, 87048