Janis Joplin 001    "Piece of My Heart"

Janis Joplin 002   "I Need a Man To Love" 

Janis Joplin 003  "Ball And Chain"

 

Janis Joplin 004   "Summertime"

 THANK YOU LOYAL

SUBBCCRIBERS

AND

EVERYDAY

VISITORS!

      

It was 1968, fresh out of school, job-searching while space-sharing a Lilliputian Manhattan apartment. I was introduced to a struggling theatrical agent trying to get work for a young unknown actor, Andy Griffith.

It was 1968, fresh out of school, job-searching while space-sharing a Lilliputian Manhattan apartment. I was introduced to a struggling theatrical agent trying to get work for a young unknown actor, Andy Griffith.

Fortunately the agent had ties to Columbia Records, and introduced me to VP, Bill Gallagher. A few minutes into my interview, singer Sylvia Syms tapped on the door and leaned in. “Sorry, Mr. G.,” she said in her breathy, honey-coated voice. “Am I interrupting anything important I hope?” Without waiting for an answer, she entered tugging someone behind her. “Look what I found. This poor boy was wandering down the hall.” It was Johnny Mathis.  I was hooked.   Case closed.

It reminded me of Woody Allen in What’s New Pussycat? when he describes his new job, backstage at the burlesque theater helping the ladies in and out of their costumes.  “It’s only fifty bucks but that’s all I can afford to pay.”

My entry-level job included an invite to the Columbia annual convention in Puerto Rico, the focal feature of which was a performance by Janis Joplin and Big Brother and the Holding Company, celebrating their signing to the company.

A few days before we left for PR, our award-winning art director, Bob Cato, stopped by my cubbyhole desk and tossed me packet of rolls of 35mm film. “Here you go, Billy. I’ll be busy backstage, so grab yourself a good angle and fire away.” (Me? Second-unit subbing for Cato?  Or as Steven Tyler would later-day Idol-y say, “Shut the front door!”)

While all the sales and promo people were attending seminars, I headed for the ballroom to watch stagehands stack bandstand platforms while soundmen fired audio checks of steroidal proportions.

Seated stage left at a small cocktail table was Janis Joplin, sipping a cup of tea. At least I assumed it was tea. Her peripheral vision must have caught me as she nodded with a casual, “Hey, hi.”

“Um…yeah, hi,” was the best my stifled stutter could summon. She raised her cup to just under her chin and inhaled the vapors. “Gotta soothe the pipes," she said through a gravely light laugh. "Although with my chops, you don’t wanna be too smooth. She nodded at the camera slung over my shoulder, “You local?”

I shook my head. “New York. Name’s Bill. I’m with Columbia,” I said with the pride of membership. “I’m new with the company.”

Big grin. "Well hey, so am I!"

Later that evening, I happened to be backstage near our president, Goddard Lieberson (who had the charm and looks of a Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.) when a promo man came by escorting Janis. She spotted me and said, “Ha-a-i-i again,” stretching her “hi” like taffy at a carnival.

As she thrust her handshake toward Goddard I couldn’t help but notice her unshaven armpit. Look, Ma, a real live flower child.

Fast forward to present day:

My original 1968 transparencies have now been digitally transferred thus enabling my lab to enlarge them to 16" x 24" gallery-quality prints on state-of-the-art photographic equipment. The Grammy Museum requested to display these photographs at their Kosmic Exhibit and they were then made available at the Grammy Gift Shop at $350.00 each.

These Editions are signed and numbered by me, and each is accompanied by a Certificate of Authenticity. For a limited time, the special price of each 16”x 24” print is $195.00 US plus 15.00 s&h paid via my PayPal account, CreateZone@aol.com. Prints will be shipped within 10 days after payment has been made. Mention that you're a subscriber to www.rocknrollremembered.com via your email order to me and I will wave the $15.00 domestic shipping charge.

OUT on a Limb-rick  (C) Bill Levy 2012

Subscribers!  Thanks for the kind words about

my rock ‘n roll limericks, so here are a few

more I’ve written for your enjoyment. 

Remember young rocker, Mick Jagger?
He’d stomp side-to-side, almost stagger.
    Under lights that swelter
   he’d shout, “Gimme Shelter!”
See his strut how it's grown to a swagger.

With a nickname like Meatloaf, so savory,
Non the less, went on stage, boasting bravery.
     An encore, he passed out. 
     Had a bout with the gout?
Last seen stuck in a mosh pit of gravy.

What Chicklets! this cheek-to-cheek smiler,
Helping hopefuls as Idol’s vote compiler. 
     How this dude likes to pose
     in his daughter’s chic clothes,
this ageless Aerosmithian, Steve Tyler.

Now here's the hot easy Z-Top,
still blues-in’ and cruisin’ nonstop.
    From the 60’s terrain 
    still searching in vain,
for that groove to remove facial crop?

Who can ever forget Motley Cru?
From the nest of coo-coos they flew.

     With their wall-to-wall noise
     they were hardly choir boys

 These tat brats found Waterloo too?

Like Zeppelin’s whale “Moby” so manic,
A crashing caused sailors to panic.

     But if that ice ditcher
     could be a motion picture?

A bit ghostly?  Satanic?   Titanic?

                             # # #

Tim Rice’s career has been as amazing as his early Technicolor Dreamcoat.  From Jesus Christ Superstar to Evita and The Lion King to name but a few to go along with his Oscar, Tony, Grammy and Golden Globe awards.   It is my pleasure to have Sir Tim Rice come on board to be our first guest blogger.  B.L.

MY BRIEF ENCOUNTER WITH ELVIS PRESLEY  

TIM RICE, London,  April, 2012

 Circa 1974: Jane and I went to America for our honeymoon. A great friend of Jane’s from Capitol Radio, Linda Brooker, became my new secretary. Of her many qualities, the most intriguing was she was close to Elvis Presley’s music publisher, Freddie Bienstock, a giant in that business, having published countless hits for decades, mostly the songs of Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, two of my greatest song writing heroes. Leiber’s lyrics were the wittiest in rock music, ranging from the comedy of “Yakety Yak” and “Love Potion Number Nine” and the wry humor of “Jailhouse Rock”, via the romance of “Stand By Me” and “Loving You” to the social comment of “Is That All There Is” and “Spanish Harlem”.

 Elvis had recorded over 20 Leiber-Stoller songs, starting with “Hound Dog”. Freddie told me and Andrew he might be able to get Elvis to record something of ours if we made a suitable demo recording–and of course if he got publishing rights. Fair enough, he could have had my house and car in return for an Elvis recording.

 Linda was going to join Freddie in Las Vegas to see Elvis in concert shortly after our wedding and suggested that we drop in to see the King ourselves. I had by this time probably been to /America over 30 times, enjoying every trip enormously, but had never really been there solely for a holiday. Neither had I shown Jane any of my American haunts and longed to discover new places as well. So we planned an extensive LA to Vegas to New York trip.

I had actually seen Elvis in Vegas a few years before, with Andrew, David Land and Robert Stigwood, after an LA trip in connection with the Superstar movie. MCA-Universal had fixed that excursion, and we were accompanied by one of their up and coming stars, Olivia Newton John. I recall wandering around the casinos and nightclubs at around four in the morning with Olivia, who was totally unrecognized. She was about to enjoy a staggering run of record success and speaking as one who met her many times since, she’s been unchanged and unfazed by it.

We saw Elvis two nights running at the Vegas Hilton . It was a surreal experience to se the most famous star in the world in the flesh–he had existed so powerfully in my mind as a remote and inaccessible icon, as an image that had become so familiar and commercial that his human form appeared artificial, like an Elvis impersonator.

But I loved his shows, although most of my companions expressed severe disappointment. He had appeared to lose concentration at times, carelessly sauntering through many of his hits while he threw scarves and fluffy hound dogs to the matrons in the front row, but when he put a bit of effort into it, as he usually did with the big ballads, it was clear that his voice was still up to it. Loving or hating, no one could take eyes off him. Two years on, I could not wait to see him again, especially as Linda said we’d be invited to his after-show party.

The Elvis shows Jane and I saw were more varied than the 1972 performance I had caught. Elvis seemed totally distracted one night, insisting that his competent but bland backing vocalists, a trio called Voice, sang five songs on their own while he sulked in the wings, which was not what the punters had come to see. He followed Voice’s unwanted set with “It’s Now or Never” at breakneck speed, somewhat reducing the intensity and passion of the song. He then noticed singer Vicki Carr, who had been warbling in town, come in and asked her publicly whether she had missed “It’s Now or Never”. Miss Carr had, so Elvis did the song again, even faster, and then repeated other chunks of his act for her benefit. He introduced the audience to a few other stars, then to his ex-wife, Priscilla, his current girlfriend, his karate teacher, his dad, a policeman who had given him a drug squad badge and several others linked in ever-remote ways. At one point, almost out of control, he threatened all those who accused him of being strung out on drugs with violent retribution. This was actually gripping, as it was Elvis, but very disturbing. But yet again, his singing was magical, and his versions of “Fever” the normally excruciating ‘American Trilogy’ were spine-tingling. He didn’t really need the huge, brassy Vegas lounge band.

Freddie introduced us to Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis’ manager, who was a permanent fixture at the tables, which was why Elvis got trapped in the Vegas circus at least 500 shows too long. He didn’t need anything, except a good manager. Elvis: A phenomenal talent. A phenomenal tragedy.

The second show we saw was the final of Elvis’s stint at the Hilton, and afterwards Freddie took us up to the penthouse end-of-engagement party for the Elvis band and crew, and presumably for Elvis as well. Once past the armed guards, we took up position near the snacks and cased the joint. Elvis had of course not yet turned up. The atmosphere was subdued, if not funereal. Rather than being part of the wild rock ‘n roll extravaganza we’d been expecting, with me and Elvis trading vocals on “Don’t Be Cruel” as exotic ladies danced, as food, drink and substances flowed, we felt more as if we’d crashed a Senior Citizens get-together.

At last the King materialized. We missed his entrance as it was as if he had been teleported into the suite by thought process – and was immediately surrounded by his rhythm section who hung on his every word, annoyingly just out of earshot. He looked good close up, not going through one of his fat periods, dressed soberly in shirt and slacks, and seemed very cheerful. It was strange looking around a room of people at a fairly staid gathering, one of whom was Elvis Presley. He needed no stage or lights to draw all eyes toward him. He looked so like himself that it couldn’t bee – as if he were the only man at the party who thought it was fancy dress and had to come as Elvis. Then he dematerialized again and after another hour of small talk mainly among ourselves, we decided to scarper. The sun had come up and after a few minutes’ gawp at the Vegas desert, the lights of the casinos and the hotels still flashing pointlessly in the dawn, we headed for the door.

Just as we stepping out, a door next to the main door opened and from seemed like a cupboard, out stepped Elvis. We were all too obviously facing the wrong way to pretend we had just arrived, and too nervous to change our minds about leaving in front of our host. But we did shake hands and thanked him for a great party.

“Thank you for coming,” drawled the King and we were out, back with the armed guard. Descending to our humble floor, I assured Jane next time he’ll have recorded one of our songs and we can meet him properly. We were quite happy with the briefest of introductions, until of course the night of August 16, 1977, when we heard that the King had left the building forever.                                               

                                                             # # #

THE COMING OF JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR: part 3  

 *“What’s the buzz?  Tell me what’s happening…”

 With packaging place, we turned our attention to how to best introduce this unusual product to the industry and clergy.  I created a 40-minute multi-media presentation to support Tim and Andrew as they walked the audience through the scenario.  With a gutsy mixture of hosanna and chutzpah we decided to present our rock-theater in a church.  Using biblical paintings as background art, we superimposed lyrics on to a scrim, stretched across the Altar.  I linked a half-dozen carousel projectors with two very un-church-like telephone booth-sized stereo speakers for all to hear and see JCS come to life.

Our first presentation was staged in St. Peter’s Church,New York, on October 27, 1970.  Later that evening we nervously watched the local news where anchors fired questions at Andrew and Tim.  Fortunately, the media was fantastic, and based on the reaction we quickly organized a seven-city tour.   Tim and Andrew were amazing as they handled interviewers, growing more professional each day.

*“There must be over fifty thousand,

Screaming love for you and more…”

 Reaction to the album set was overwhelming.  Within a matter of days the original run of 100,000 silkscreened boxes was exhausted.  We had to play catch up with a big order of a 2-pocket gatefold jacket.  The album went on to nail number one on the Billboard chart and eventually sold over four million in theUSalone.

 *“I never thought I’d come to this—what’s it al about?”

 Due to the opera’s fragile theme, our advertising had to adjust accordingly.  Consumer ads relied more on quoting reviews, like a movie or show.  But when it came to the trade papers we lightened up some, i.e., a Christmas page that raised a few eyebrows stating that Decca Records would be closed December 25^th in honor of Superstar’s birthday.

 *“Your deeds in this matter won’t go unrewarded ”

Circa, Spring, ‘71.  I was in my office when a rather subdued Tim and Andrew entered, closed the door and sat opposite me for an endless silent moment.

“Uh-oh,” I said, “did I do something wrong?”

“No,” said Andrew, “quite actually, it’s more of what you did right.  We just came from Robert’s (Stigwood) office and finalized the deal to bring JC to Broadway.”

“And you want me to be a spear carrier?”

“Nothing like that, ole’ chap,” said Tim, “Judas, maybe.  Just kidding.  But we will be able to set aside a few shares and we penciled you in for one of them, that is, should you be interested.”

Needless to say I anted up for my share, but it was hardly a get rich quick Ponzi perk.  It actually took about a year and a half to break even, although eventually came out ahead.

But then again, it’s not every day you get to be an angel to a super star.

 # # #

 * Lyrics from “Jesus Christ Superstar”  © 1970 Leeds Music Ltd.,London

THE COMING OF JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR: part 2 

*“I could give you facts and figures— I could give you plans…”

As soon as word of a possible packaging change got out, designers besieged us like the running of the graphic bulls. I saw one layout that opened to a seven-paneled wood-toned cross, another with an embossed crown of bobbed-wire thorns, and still another had Jesus holding a crown of stars like tambourine. Then there was Jesus in torn jeans, grunge wear, and even a biblical illustration of the manger with a turntable. Although I pulled the plug on all of them, my door remained open to the parade of praying portfolios.

I met with the head of a small ad agency who asked how I might describe what I was searching for.  I said, “Someone who could morph classic Rock into classical Opera.” He asked if I’d meet with a youngCalifornia designer with some fresh illustrative ideas.  Enter Ernie Cefalu.

What fun it would have been to be the fly-on-the-wall at Ernie’s Madison Avenue ad agency.  I smiled to myself imagining how the staid staff of suits must have reacted to having to working with this bearded, long hair, jack-booted Haight Ashbury bud and his laid back West Coast chatter.  Think Mad Men  meets American Idol.

What impressed me about Ernie was when he mentioned he spent the morning visiting Manhattan and Brooklyn churches, trying to absorb the mood, the ambience. I smiled to myself at the incongruity of envisioning the image of this dude absorbing mental moments at the altar. It told me we were on to something. I don’t think we spent more than half an hour, but it was nonstop thumbnail-sketches.  Dueling pencils on steroids.

And Ernie?  He could hardly wait to get back to his drawing board.  In a matter of days, the JCS logo came alive, leading the way to the formal boxed set, libretto, etal. The classic package was born.

*“Ah gentlemen—you know why we are here

                                             We’ve not much time and quite a problem here.”

Young Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Webber arrived in New Yorkfor a round of Meet The Press, R n’R style. The boys were in awe hearing they’d be sharing interview airtime with the likes of WNEW-FM’s Scott Muni. Scott was instrumental in programming the single, quick to add it to his rotation.

Tim and Andrew were booked into the plush Park Avenue Drake Hotel. As they unpacked, I happened to see Tim take a pair of matching Turkish towels from his suitcase. I nodded at the traveling bath linens and asked Tim, why? “Me Mum’s doing,” he replied, with a blind faith shrug. “When traveling, she said, you never know if your room will have the needed necessities.”

# # #

* Lyrics from “Jesus Christ Superstar”  © 1970 Leeds Music Ltd.,London

THE COMING OF JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR: part 1

 On the surface, our New York MCA offices looked more like a stage set for an episode of Law and Order: a very lawyer-like layout.  Our West Coast president’s wife was an antique collector, thus the staid sophistication of formal collectables.  Some pieces, like an armoire the size of a Fiat would vibrate to the bass thumping of the interior add-on speakers.  Old world retro, say hello to new world rock.

Thorough the summer of ‘70 rumors were abuzz from London regarding the arrival of Superstar.  Our international man Dick Broderick spread the chatter.  Yes, JCS was coming but it was best we don’t make waves.  Word was out that NY was about to be butts-on-the-line tested.  Could we handle the potential rock-throwing of a rock opera based on the last seven days in the life of Jesus Christ?

Would we be up to launching a single that was clouded with tinder box implications, like Tim Rice tweaking some nerve endings with, “It happens that we don’t see Christ as God but simply the right man, right time, right place.”  All that did was to stir Christians to cry blasphemy, Jews labeled it anti-Semitic and the BBC, sacrilegious.  Lots more of this is day-to-day detailed in Ellis Nassour’s fine book, Rock Opera.

 We finally got to see what British Decca was planning for their package: a hot yellow sphere representing the center of the universe that opened with 4 triangular flaps and 16 images of Christ, like a sheet of oversized postage stamps.  Four of the images were replaced with Christ-like drawings by young school children.

Our Sales and Marketing VP Tony Martell must have caught the hesitant look on my face when he asked my opinion.

“Well they certainly took the religious route,” I said, “and the youth market via the kid’s images.  All quite attractive, but something about it just doesn’t feel right.”

 “Maybe some fine tuning but I hope you’re not thinking any major changes,” Dick Broderick said.

“Look, guys,” I continued, “we have a special chance here to ignite the industry.  How often do you have something as important as an opera to promote?  And a rock opera at that.  What do I think?  In a word, dignity.”

“And by that you mean…?” Tony asked.

I gathered my thoughts.  “By that I mean a classic boxed set with a multi-paged libretto.  Maybe even carry the design right through to the record’s special labels.”

Dick rolled his eyes.  “Oh yeah, a boxed set… you want to talk pricy?”

# # #

James Brown: One-on-One with the Godfather of Soul – Part 3    

                                                  “Star Time”

  When it came to packaging the Original Disco Man, I brought in two A-list colleagues, designer Bob Heimall and photographer Joel Brodsky.       We decided to set up a photo session in a New York disco, not necessarily featuring James in one of his signature knee slides, but rather seated on the dance floor as a metaphoric nod to the man in charge.

Talk about the man in charge; there he was, in his office seated behind a massive desk.  I had come to show him sign off on the finished album art.  But first, he wanted to add an element.

                                                “Getting’ Down To It”

 “Mr. Levy,” he said in his usual way of addressing everyone by their last name, “because this release figures to be a super big-time smash, I want every pressing of this album to be shipped with a ‘belly band’ (a promotional streamer wrapped around every copy) that will say, ‘This will be the first hundred-million-selling album.

 It took me a moment to realize that he was serious, so I went on to list several reasons why we couldn’t do what he was proposing, as it would be misleading, possibly giving stores reason not to stock it.   He countered with, “Then we’ll say, ‘This could be the first…’” 

I remember responding with a slow, head shake. 

“Okay,” he said, “then a multi-million-selling gold sticker.”   

“Mr. Brown, you know the old adage, something about if it walks like a duck…” 

We bounced the topic back and forth for a few minutes more when he stopped, stood up with a bit of a sigh and came around to my side of the desk.   

                                                      “Payback”

 Although we were the only two in the room, he looked around as if to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard.  He put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Mr. Levy, from now on… you’re ‘Bill,’ and I’m ‘James.’’’

                                                           # # #

And then there was the bomb scare. 

Word came through the interoffice rumor mill suggesting that unless some immediate and serious attention was given to Brown’s People Records new releases, an “explosive” wakeup call could be set in motion.   Our Senior VP decided to make an executive (albeit unwise) decision to take things into his own hands.  He sent a confidential interoffice memo (memos: a primitive form of communication used before email) to Department Heads, of which I was one.  Our Senior VP laid out the sketchy details of the threat and that he wanted to keep it industry quiet.  Toward that goal, he scheduled an after hours meeting so that we may form teams and search offices for anything suspicious.  Any volunteers for an interoffice bomb squad?

 I had no alternative but to head for the Personnel Director’s office, stating that I for one could not be part of such a bizarre plan.  If a search were to be conducted, obviously trained authorities must be called in. 

 Fortunately, the ill-advised “Three Stooges meet The Hurt Locker” search plan was aborted.  Cooler heads prevailed, and the word bomb would be used only in reference to a recording’s rapid descend down the Billboard Top 100 chart.

 # # #

JAMES BROWN: One-On-One with the Godfather of Soul     Part 1.

“Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag”

Circa mid-70s.  Our Polydor Records offices were on the 33^rd and 34^th floors, linked via a circular stairway.  James Brown and People Records had a production deal with us, their offices a few floors below. Couriously, looking down some 30+ floors to Manhattan’s traffic-jammed streets never bothered my sense of heights.  Just don’t ask me to drive the curves of Big Sur.

 “Getting Down To It”

In addition to my Polydor responsibilities, our President, Bill Farr, wanted me to offer James and company, graphic asistance.  I knew this would be an up hill climb as James, by his own direction, was to be known as “Mr. Brown” and he in turn would respond to us in the same formal way.

“Grits & Soul”

The times were turbulent.  At the drop of a hat, or more likely a declining notch on the Billboard charts, JB was the first to complain that his product wasn’t getting the attention it was due. 

“Take A Look At These Cakes”

Bill Farr was hosting a session in his office, catering to several European execs.  Brown called Farr’s office saying he must see the president.  Farr’s secretary said she’d inform him.  Minutes later, she looked up from her typewriter only to see JB standing in front of her, obviously not the best of moods.  She explained that she gave Mr. Farr a note, and was told to set up a meeting as soon as the present confab breaks. “Breaks, you say?” James said, with a grunt.  “We’ll see what breaks.” 

“Get On The Good Foot”

JB started to leave but instead did a 180-spin toward Farr’s office.  In a blur, he slammed his heel into the door, crashing it open.  He entered as if nothing happened took a seat and joined the group to what must have seemed like the longest moment of stunned silence.

 # # #