Sting and a group of artists perform in the Nobel Peace Prize concert beginning at 1:55 pm Eastern right here. And get this– Sting is back in New York for Rainforest Concert rehearsals on Tuesday, performing live on The Voice on Wednesday in Los Angeles, then back in New York on Thursday for the Rainforest with Bruce Springsteen, James Taylor, and a Phil Spector Christmas reunion of Ronnie Spector and Darlene Love. I imagine that he sleeps on Friday! Jet lag? Try yoga!

Bob Dylan sent a beautifully worded acceptance speech to the Nobel Prize panel and it was read Saturday night in Stockholm. Patti Smith performed for him, singing “A Hard Rain’s a-Gonna Fall,” spaced out and flubbed a line. She said, “I’m sorry, I’m so nervous.”

Dylan wrote: “Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, “Are my songs literature?” But now they will be considered literature forever. So he didn’t show up. Big deal. Believe me, the people at that ceremony got a great night. Sting also entertained at the evening gala, as well as the singer Halsey.

Good evening, everyone. I extend my warmest greetings to the members of the Swedish Academy and to all of the other distinguished guests in attendance tonight.

I’m sorry I can’t be with you in person, but please know that I am most definitely with you in spirit and honored to be receiving such a prestigious prize. Being awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature is something I never could have imagined or seen coming. From an early age, I’ve been familiar with and reading and absorbing the works of those who were deemed worthy of such a distinction: Kipling, Shaw, Thomas Mann, Pearl Buck, Albert Camus, Hemingway. These giants of literature whose works are taught in the schoolroom, housed in libraries around the world and spoken of in reverent tones have always made a deep impression. That I now join the names on such a list is truly beyond words.

I don’t know if these men and women ever thought of the Nobel honor for themselves, but I suppose that anyone writing a book, or a poem, or a play anywhere in the world might harbor that secret dream deep down inside. It’s probably buried so deep that they don’t even know it’s there.

If someone had ever told me that I had the slightest chance of winning the Nobel Prize, I would have to think that I’d have about the same odds as standing on the moon. In fact, during the year I was born and for a few years after, there wasn’t anyone in the world who was considered good enough to win this Nobel Prize. So, I recognize that I am in very rare company, to say the least.

I was out on the road when I received this surprising news, and it took me more than a few minutes to properly process it. I began to think about William Shakespeare, the great literary figure. I would reckon he thought of himself as a dramatist. The thought that he was writing literature couldn’t have entered his head. His words were written for the stage. Meant to be spoken not read. When he was writing Hamlet, I’m sure he was thinking about a lot of different things: “Who’re the right actors for these roles?” “How should this be staged?” “Do I really want to set this in Denmark?” His creative vision and ambitions were no doubt at the forefront of his mind, but there were also more mundane matters to consider and deal with. “Is the financing in place?” “Are there enough good seats for my patrons?” “Where am I going to get a human skull?” I would bet that the farthest thing from Shakespeare’s mind was the question “Is this literature?”

When I started writing songs as a teenager, and even as I started to achieve some renown for my abilities, my aspirations for these songs only went so far. I thought they could be heard in coffee houses or bars, maybe later in places like Carnegie Hall, the London Palladium. If I was really dreaming big, maybe I could imagine getting to make a record and then hearing my songs on the radio. That was really the big prize in my mind. Making records and hearing your songs on the radio meant that you were reaching a big audience and that you might get to keep doing what you had set out to do.

Well, I’ve been doing what I set out to do for a long time, now. I’ve made dozens of records and played thousands of concerts all around the world. But it’s my songs that are at the vital center of almost everything I do. They seemed to have found a place in the lives of many people throughout many different cultures and I’m grateful for that.

But there’s one thing I must say. As a performer I’ve played for 50,000 people and I’ve played for 50 people and I can tell you that it is harder to play for 50 people. 50,000 people have a singular persona, not so with 50. Each person has an individual, separate identity, a world unto themselves. They can perceive things more clearly. Your honesty and how it relates to the depth of your talent is tried. The fact that the Nobel committee is so small is not lost on me.

But, like Shakespeare, I too am often occupied with the pursuit of my creative endeavors and dealing with all aspects of life’s mundane matters. “Who are the best musicians for these songs?” “Am I recording in the right studio?” “Is this song in the right key?” Some things never change, even in 400 years.

Not once have I ever had the time to ask myself, “Are my songs literature?”

So, I do thank the Swedish Academy, both for taking the time to consider that very question, and, ultimately, for providing such a wonderful answer.

My best wishes to you all,

Bob Dylan

The annual Z100 Jingle Ball at Madison Square Garden is the food court of music. The biggest radio station in the country, owned by IHeartMusic (formerly Clear Channel) brings the biggest pop stars in for a four juke box that is unlike anything else in music. God bless Z100’s intrepid leader, Elvis Duran, looking suave and slimmed down, host of “The Z Morning Zoo.” He must wear ear plugs all the time.

And so it was last night as the teen scream level was off the charts, but the acts were on ’em: everyone from a lip synching Justin Bieber (who also looked, sorry, like he was unsure exactly of what was happening) to future icon Ariana Grande, from the hit n run Chainsmokers (they look and sound more like the Gum Chewers) to the effervescent Joe Jonas and DNCE (I have a sweet spot for “Cake by the Ocean”).

The good news first: young Charlie Puth, who I think tours in his sleep, plays the piano with flourishes and has actual songs. He’s the respite for the adults in the audience. He’s sort of the straight Barry Manilow for this generation. He’s very clean cut so I think he’s trying to look messy on stage. Puth already has a medley of hits to look back on after about three years in the business. Kudos to him. But Charlie, go home. Take a nap.

Ariana Grande’s voice gets better and better as her songs get worse and worse. She just should sing Charlie Puth’s songs. Otherwise, she’s shrieking and conducting an exercise class. I did like her giant ear muffs covering her in-ear sound systems.

The Jingle Ball takes four hours. Yes, four hours. The first three are pretty much a warm up act of one hit wonders and miscellaneous acts. Lost in this group was Ellie Goulding, who belongs in the star pack of the final hour. Like Puth, she’s actual artist with songs. And a voice. Ellie, talk to your manager.

That warm up pack– they attempted to perform “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” and it was a train wreck. Ryan Seacrest’s East Coat avatar announced that “for the first ever” he’d gotten all the night’s stars to sing together and record this thing. Well, everyone but Bieber and Grande. Now, we all know this holiday ditty from the Crystals and from Bruce Springsteen versions. This one should be erased.

And so the evening builds toward Bieber, the star attraction. Formerly the shower of much skin on stage, Bieber is now covered from head to toe– swathed in white pants and t shirt, topped by a bright yellow hoodie, wearing black leggings. What is going on now? On top of that, he lip synchs like crazy. His songs are playing and he’s not making an effort to sing along. Sometimes he jumps in on a live mic, so you know he can sing. But he’s mostly doing karoake. The scream teens don’t notice, or don’t care. One girl said to me, “Oh yeah, that’s what he does.”

Bieber is no longer dancing. He has dancers, so why bother? He kind of lopes along while they dance. Last night he seemed heavy footed and not quite awake. He was watching the dancers to see where he might jump in. Good lord.

And still he’s a money machine. And the songs are more mechanized, and slicker than ever. “Sorry” seems to be the hardest word.

And yet the Jingle Ball is a celebration. Be there or be square. Even I, at this advanced age, dip into Z100 once a day just to see what’s going on. I suppose it’s no different from my halcyon WABC in its way, and every once in a while you find a gem (“Cake by the Ocean”) that makes it all right.]

PS Not a single black act– no R&B. Last year The Weeknd was on the show. But this was a white night. Drake, Rihanna, J Cole, Rae Sremmund– they’re all over the pop charts and Z100. No one was available?

photo c2016 Showbiz411 by Charlotte Friedman

This may not seem like a big number, but these days it’s enough to crow about: for their first studio album in 11 years, the Rolling Stones have scored a pretty whopping hit.

“Blue and Lonesome” debuts this week with 120,000 copies sold– and I do mean copies as in physical CDs and digital downloads. The album had insignificant streaming.

For a 50 plus year old band, and an album of blues covers, this is kind of extraordinary. “Blue and Lonesome” enters the charts at number 4.

Many “legacy” acts have released new albums this year only to find indifference, or an unmotivated fan base. That includes Van Morrison, Barry Gibb of the Bee Gees, Steven Tyler, and Chrissie Hynde with the Pretenders. There are many, many more examples.

But the Stones came up with a good concept and it translated easily in promotion. Their CBS Sunday Morning interview was a total winner, too.

So Viva the Rolling Stones. They returned to their roots and people got it. There’s life in them ole bones yet!