Back in the early 90s, I attended the concert of a singer who’d had a few huge hits early in her career but was now playing a half-filled 500 seat theater in Spokane, WA. She was drunk onstage and angry. Exhausted from the road. Exhausted by the huge expectations and shrinking crowds. Her concert became a monologue about pain and loneliness. She died young. Yesterday, I heard one of her songs on Sirius and I immediately thought, “Damn, she would’ve had loving and appreciative audiences if she were now playing Indian casinos.” Indian casinos are morally and ethically complicated. I mean—talk about the total tribal assimilation into capitalism. But so many classic rock, soul, and country musicians—the ones who aren’t big enough to draw thousands of us nostalgic Boomers and Gen Xers into arenas—are able to draw hundreds at Indian casinos. Who wouldva thunk it? Indians saving the rock stars who saved us with their music.