The rock and roll mythos loves to sell you on the concept of brotherhood—the idea that a band is a gang against the world, bound by blood, sweat, and cheap beer. But the moment the spotlights fade and the revenue streams dry up, that myth collapses into the cold, calculated reality of a corporate board meeting. Look no further than Andrew Freeman getting systematically frozen out of Last In Line. After fourteen years of laying down powerhouse vocals, carrying the torch for the late Jimmy Bain, and turning down outside gigs out of sheer loyalty, how is he rewarded? He finds out through internet headlines and backroom chatter that the band is actively auditioning his replacement. No phone call. No professional courtesy. Just a silent eviction from the house he helped build.
Meanwhile, the industry continues to treat fans like automated teller machines by pumping out soulless, mercenary collaborative albums. We are staring down the barrel of a new Rainbow "tribute" record featuring Ronnie Romero, Steve Morse, and every other professional "singer-for-hire" who treats heavy metal like a shifting temp agency gig. It’s a sanitized, paint-by-numbers exercise in nostalgia that completely lacks the dangerous spark that made the original music historic. They call it "reimagining," but it’s really just playing it poorly for a quick streaming kickback.
