When A Music Industry Executive Learns Too Late
One of the things that occurred to me after writing “Once A King, And Now A Prince,” along with all of the additional posts and supportive writing for my memoir that I have done, is that the thought that consistently pops into my head is, “what could I have done then, that would not only be different, but could change things for the better?” As a music industry executive, I had wins, losses, mistakes, lessons, and a front-row seat to untold rock history. Looking back now, this is also the story of my life, not just the story of my career.
Big Not-So-Bad John
On a personal level, as a kid, there was a person who was always kind to me, whose name was John. John owned the small grocery and sundries shop next to my father’s candy store, and from his inventory and the size of his shop, he probably earned less money than the little bit that my father did. I think the only thing that my father did to earn more money than John was to work seven days per week and 12-14 hours per day.
At a time in my life when I was about 12-14 years old, and very few were nice to me, especially my abusive father, John stood out as one of the few who was kind to me, always had a smile, and was always pleasant with me. Long before I became a music industry executive, that small true life story stayed with me. I do wish, as I grew older, I could have gotten to know him better and pay back his kindness with like.
Black Sabbath On A Handshake With A Music Business Executive
After my “Wonder Bread Years,” and after I first started my own business, American Talent International, one of the very first acquisitions, right after Rod Stewart and Faces, was Black Sabbath, with Ozzy Osbourne. I made my deal with Pat Meehan, the original manager and small-time gangster, as I was told by others, from the Manchester area originally. I proceeded to set up a tour for Black Sabbath, and it was a doozy, as they used to describe quality back in the day.
Lo and behold, another “doozy” saying, Black Sabbath had a management change from Pat to another, but bigger gangster, Don Arden. How do I know Don was, in fact, one? Because he met me at the Mayfair Hotel, in the heart of London, and in our meeting did two things: 1- He told me that he was known as the “Al Capone of London,” and 2- In a friendly fashion, he shared with me the fact that he walked around armed and showed me his revolver.
He informed me at the time that he made a deal with Frank Barcelona at Premier Talent, and that he could not change it. What I had learned from that experience was “always get a written contract before booking a tour.” For a music industry executive, that was not a small lesson. It was untold rock history with a music industry bruise attached to it.
I was reminded of this and have previously written about my opposite experience of this situation, when I had an agent at the airport in New York City meet Gerry Bron, the then manager of Uriah Heep, and until our three-year contract was signed, the group would not be handed their H-1 visas. They signed on the dotted line, just like good little doobies.
The Music Industry Executive Lesson: Ya Gotta Go With What Ya Know
Clarence Avant, owner of Tabu Records, was kind enough to hook me up with the Disco/R & B group known as Brainstorm. After I met with the group, I was able to secure them for personal management representation, to my then-entitled company, Mr. I. Mouse, Ltd. One small regret, kind of, was that when Clarence’s interests veered from Brainstorm’s, I represented the group’s interests in total. I was sad about doing so, as it was Clarence, a lovely man, who set me up with the group so that I could manage them.
Many another manager would have sided with the label’s interest and not their group’s, in order to protect the label, who potentially could send more clients to that manager. I represented the group. That is part of what being a music industry executive meant to me, even when it was uncomfortable.
There was one occasion that I regretted with the group, and with others, in that I was wildly successful in my signings of talent, simply because my “ears” heard great from garbage and all that in between. It wasn’t until later, especially after working in publishing with some quality writers for my then friend, Billy Meshel at All Nations Music, that I learned more about songs and structure.
On Brainstorm’s recording of their second album, produced by Gerry Peters, a pleasant guy, and hearing some of the tracks, I remarked to Gerry, who was Earth, Wind & Fire’s engineer, how close the sound he directed Brainstorm into sounded like EWF. To me, it was a clone, and not representative of the Brainstorm hit of “Lovin’ Is Really My Game.” He replied to me that, “ya gotta go with what ya know.” Unfortunately, Gerry did not know enough.
The record sales were totally awful. My regret is that I did not have the knowledge at that time to give him direct instructions over and above what he knew. As a music industry executive, I knew talent when I heard it, but I did not yet know enough about how to force the record itself into the shape it needed.
Small Venues Or Arenas For Rory Gallagher?
My biggest regret was not having the knowledge I had amassed in my ability to critique songs and arrangements, which did not come until after the death of Rory. Rory Gallagher was one of, if not the best guitar players in the world, according to Jimi Hendrix. His singing was not brilliant but was surely good enough, and if he used a bit of electronic help, could have even sounded better than it was.
A music industry executive can hear greatness, but greatness still needs the right song, the right arrangement, and sometimes the right push at exactly the right time. What Rory needed help with was his arranging and how to craft a hit song. ZZ Top knew this on “Sharp Dressed Man,” and Duran Duran found a great hook with “Hungry Like The Wolf.” Cream and Led Zeppelin knew great riffs for their arrangements, and House Of Pain, with their hit song, “Jump Around,” had this screechy tone under all that simply underscored the arrangement brilliantly, being its own hook.
Rory, and I mean this kindly, reminded me of David Alan Grier on “In Living Color,” playing Calhoun Tubbs, a blues singer who had a famous catchall phrase he used in front of every song: “I wrote a song ’bout it! Wanna hear it? Here it goes!” Every song Calhoun sang sounded just like the one before it. Rory’s problem was that so much of what he wrote sounded like so much else of what he wrote.
I regret that I did not have the ability at that time to spend some time with him and help him in arrangement and songwriting. With respect to his arrangements, it would have simply been a catchy riff or sound that was repetitive and became a secondary hook, as in some of the great heavy rock tunes of the era. With his songwriting, more time would have been needed on that specific craft.
That may be the deepest regret I carry as a music industry executive. It is one more piece of untold rock history that still sits with me, because sometimes what you learn comes just a little too late.
