To quote my good friend Jerry Garcia, who lives on despite not being with us (was he ever really?), "What a long strange trip it’s been." A decade ago, I first walked through the doors of the Network Magazine Group. My career before then had been made up of a series of programming and managing jobs at radio stations as apart geographically and formatically as KFRC San Francisco and WAPP New York. Who knew the job of running Network 40 would turn out to be one of the most stable in the radio and record industries?
Bye Bye
A long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.
But february made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.
It was a subtle change, begun years ago, probably innocently. Some Sr. VP Promotion hired a local promotion manager who gave a great interview, had the drive and the proper work ethic and looked the part. Only one thing was missing. This LPM wasn’t passionate about music. No big deal though, right? One LPM who wasn’t passionate about music made no difference in the big picture. However, this LPM probably worked his way up to a position of prominence and began hiring other LPMs. The last thing this person looked for in a prospective employee was passion for music. He had none and it hadn’t held him back. Why was it needed in others?
Happy New Year 2002
1/11/02
Welcome to the jungle, we got fun ‘n’ games. We got everything you want, honey, we know all the names. We are the people that can find whatever you may need. If you got the money, honey we got your disease. In the jungle. Welcome to the jungle.
Happy New Year and welcome to the jungle that is the entertainment business. Aren’t you glad you’re still here? It could be a lot worse. You could be one of the many who got pink slips over the holidays. The only thing more depressing than being in a bad job is having no job at all.
In the words of William DeVaughn, “Let’s be thankful for what we’ve got.â€
For the past five years, I’ve started off the Editorials for each new year with a variation of the following statement: “At no other time in history has there been so much uncertainty within the radio and music industries. The past year has been chaotic and the coming year holds the promise of more change.â€
Guess what?
At no other time in history has there been so much uncertainty within the radio and music industries. The past year has been chaotic and the coming year holds the promise of even more change.
Welcome back. Your dreams are your ticket out.
Compared to 10 years ago, our business is almost unrecognizable. A decade ago, who would have believed one radio company would own 1,200 stations? Who would have believed the record industry would have shrunk to only a double handful of labels owned by a handful of corporate behemoths?
Unfortunately, though the board has changed, many of us are still playing with the same pieces.
For months, I’ve been preaching the mantra of change. Now, more than ever, we have to embrace the future or become part of the past. Many are still holding on to the past, longing for better times, wishing for a return to a kinder, gentler industry. Forget about it. The measure of an executive in today’s culture is in one’s ability to grasp the future and invent new ways to meet the challenge of today’s changing world.
Don’t keep holding on to yesterday.
For the first time since we’ve been keeping records of these things, record sales decreased last year. Drastically. One of the definitions of insanity is to continue to do the same things over and over while expecting a different result. That being the case, our business is full of certified crazy people. Rising costs have changed the main priority of record executives. It used to be discovering hit records. Now, it’s reducing costs. However, instead of approaching the changing world now governing the record business with innovative new business plans, most continue to use the existing model. Record executives are demanding more of the machine while insisting on using less fuel.
In the world of business, it’s ignorant.
In meeting after meeting, I hear many promotion executives speaking in strange tongues, talking impressively of cost-cutting measures, reduced expenses, CPUs and fiscal responsibility. We aren’t graduates from business school. We aren’t part of the nerd patrol. We’re part of the most exciting group of people in the world. You didn’t have a slide rule hanging off of your belt in school, nor did you carry your pens in pocket protectors. You were cool. And you still are, unless your goal is to become a CFO. If that’s the case, resign. You aren’t qualified.
None of you were hired to cut costs. You were hired to break records. I’m not inferring that all of us shouldn’t be aware of the high cost of doing business. We should. In today’s economy, or yesterday’s for that matter, we should always try to run our business responsibly. In the case of the record business, we’ve been fleecing the golden goose for so long, we don’t know how to nurture her back to health.
Is it possible that some executives, many of whom are among the highest paid in the world, might come up with an innovative plan that will revolutionize the way we do business? They’d better. The consumer already has. We must quit concentrating on the negatives and focus on the positives. Breaking records is the promotion executive’s job. Not cutting costs. Face it: In the P&L, you are L.
There isn’t one thing that will reward you in the way you need to be rewarded: the right music. A hit record cures every ill. It balances the books and keeps the CFO at bay. It is truly the only answer. We need to stop adding numbers and start listening. Then we need to get other people listening.
So let’s make a New Year’s resolution to stop talking about the business and start talking about the music. Besides, without music, everything else is just boring conversation.
#1 With A Bullet
September 24th, 1999
Top 40 is back with a vengeance. In my years in this business, I’ve presided over the demise of the format more times than Bisceglia said, “You get it?â€Â That’s a lot. And I’m not that old.
The format is flourishing from coast-to coast. Z100 New York and KIIS Los Angeles are leading the charge and their cavalry consists of hundreds of radio stations in between playing the hits. Why is Top 40 doing so well? Because the music sounds great.
It’s been a long time since Top 40 PDs have had so much good music from which to choose. Record companies are producing hit records and Top 40 is responding. What’s happening?
It was only yesterday that Top 40 was dead. Again. Record executives were tripping over themselves trying to sign every grunge band from Seattle to Biloxi. But a funny thing happened on the way to the top of the charts. Most of the bands weren’t able to deliver hit records.
For a record to make it into the mainstream, the audience has to love the music. Love of the artist, outside a limited cult following, means little. Unless the music reaches the mainstream, the artist will continue to be up a small creek without a paddle.
With the advent of consolidation, many predicted the beginning of the end. Companies were more aware of the bottom line than ever before. There was less money to be spent on developing acts. The future looked bleak.
The opposite has happened. It has become popular to spend less for a specific record and worry about nurturing an act later. What most fail to realize is that hit records generate the revenue to nurture acts that aren’t quite there, yet.
I spoke with a respected promotion veteran last week who bemoaned the fact that six artists who reached #1 status this year didn’t break the Top 40 with the second release. This gives weight to the premise that record companies are producing “throw-away†records instead of building artists. Thus, the the end of the world is near. However, history doesn’t prove this theory accurate.
We can’t predict superstars. They are comets that light up the world with no warning. record companies can, however, groom hit acts, but not at the expense of hit records.
In the golden age of Top 40 radio, the ‘70s and early ‘80s, things were much the same as they are today. In the 1970s, 117 records reached #1 without follow-ups that broke the Top 40. That’s almost 12 records a year. Do you remember The Shocking Blue, Edwin Starr, Gilbert O’Sullivan, Looking Glass, Billy Paul, Vicki Lawrence, Maureen McGovern, Stories, Terry Jacks, Blue Swede, MFSB, Andy Kim, Paper Lace, Bo Donaldson, Billy Swan, Carl Douglas, Silver Connection, Sylvers, Bay City Rollers, Wild Cherry, C.W. McCall, Rhythm Heritage , Walter Murphy, Marilyn McCoo and Billy Davis, Rose Royce, Mary MacGregor, David Soul, Thelma Houston, Bill Conti, Alan O’day, Emotions, Meco, Debby Boone, Player, Nick Gilder, The Knack, M and Robert John? All had #1 songs without a follow-up hit.
Through 1985, the ratio was 11 records a year to hit #1 without a follow-up, including forgettables: John Parr, Jan Hammer, Ready for the World, Ray Parker Jr., Patti Austin, Bonnie Tyler, Dexy’s Midnight Runners, Irene Cara, Tony Basil and Vangelis.
Yet, at the same time, this system nurtured star artists like The Rolling Stones, Elton John, Michael Jackson, Billy Joel, Three Dog Night, James Taylor, The Bee Gees, Al Green, America, Marvin Gaye, John Denver, Paul McCartney, The Eagles, Barry Manilow, Olivia Newton-John, Hall and Oates, Chicago, Fleetwood Mac, Doobie Brothers, Rod Stewart, Lionel Richie, Queen, Aerosmith, John Cougar and The Police, just to name a few.
What’s the point? Music is what makes Top 40…always has…always will. Top 40 has never been a format to discover new trends, but to reflect the tastes of the mainstream. Instead, of griping that radio doesn’t break more artists, maybe we should focus on artists who produce more than one hit record.
Don’t blame Top 40. Today, more than ever, the format is breaking records. It’s up to record companies to break the acts. Maybe A&R people should be forced to listen to Top 40 and sign artists that are radio friendly rather than “artistic†groups that promotion will then have to “convince†radio to play. That works about once every ten years.
Making radio-friendly records never hurt Madonna, Elton, Prince or The Eagles. They never felt their integrity was sacrificed because their records were hits on Top 40 radio.
It doesn’t take a lot. One hit and you’re on your way. Two and you’re an opening act. Three and and you’re a phenom. Five and you don’t give any more interviews.
You’re a superstar baby!
What Do You Do?
6/4/1999
June gloom has settled on Southern California, bringing with it a hint of summer, but only hint. Just when the sun comes out and you think it’s time to break out the water skis, a cloud gathers on the horizon and rain seems imminent. It reminds me of our business.
I took this past weekend to open my mind up to ideas other than the Network 40 Summer Games III in lake Tahoe June 24-26. That topic can drive a man crazy. Or in my case, crazier.
I read an article last Saturday that said teenagers spend more time on the Internet than watching television or listening to radio. If you’re programming a radio station, this should get your attention. If you’re a record company executive, it should make you sit up and take notice. But it probably won’t.
Unfortunately, easier access on the Internet isn’t the only change that has occurred in the past decade. There was a time when radio sported the best and the brightest. A programmer was often the smartest person in the room. A PD had to be brilliant because his competitor was cut from the same cloth.
Programming minds clicked constantly. Jumbled thoughts were full of questions. How can I get the attention of my audience? What contest can I run this weekend that will create excitement? What kind of promotion will work for the summer?
Not only were programmers on the cutting edge…we often created the edge. We were involved in the lives of our audience. We lived their lives. So, when social shifts and changes began, we were the mirror. Sometimes, we shaped those changes ourselves, creating musical twists and turns on this long Magical Mystery Tour.
Now, it’s a whole new ball game. And most of us aren’t playing.
Programming has, for the most part, been reduced to the lowest common denominator. Instead of the cutting edge of excitement, we’re more often on the dull, dark side of the room. The smartest of the gathering? Hardly. More than likely the most boring.
Programmers today spend too much time holding on to their jobs instead of doing their jobs. Boys and girls, before you don’t have a job any longer, shouldn’t you sit down and have a “Come to Jesus†talk with yourself? Can I provide the first question?
What do you do?
Time was, a program director was responsible for everything the audience heard: commercials, IDs, promos, jocks and music. The station was a direct reflection of the PD. That’s still the case, which is the main reason so many stations sound boring.
When was the last time you had a meeting with the sales manager? I don’t mean about sales promotions, but about the quality and quantity of commercials that are aired? How many of your commercials run over 30 or 60 seconds? How many are produced poorly? Which are run first in a set? Jingles? Dry voice?
You don’t know because the traffic manager schedules them and you can’t be bothered. You have strict criteria about music, but no criteria about commercials. What’s wrong with this picture?
ID’s and promos are most often cut by some disembodied voice far away from the center of your attention. How can an announcer in another part of the country feel the vibe of your station? Are you so incompetent that you can’t hire jocks who can also cut your promos, thereby keeping the fabric of your sound consistent? And what about your jocks? Do you give them direction? They do daily airshifts. How often do you critique their shows? if they can do it daily, is it too much you to meet with them weekly?
When was the last time you came up with a promotion? How many original ideas have you put on the air in the last year? It’s easier for you to run the birthday game or another promotion created by some outside entity. All you do is buy it. When was the last time you listened to music? I don’t mean when the promotion people drop by, but the last time you took a stack of CD’s home and played them when nobody else was around? How can PD’s be expected to listen to music when music directors spend more time running selector than choosing records?
Programmers today are spending too much time doing things that don’t matter. Why does your ego dictate that you personally get involved with the acts at your concert? Does a picture with this week’s superstar guarantee your entrance into the hall of fame? You spend more time meeting with people in your office than with your audience. You don’t listen to music anymore, you read computer printouts.
No wonder more people are cruising the Internet than are caught in the jam that is radio. You’ve stopped listening.
Guess what?
So has your audience.
Where Are You?
4/23/1999
In Las Vegas this past weekend, I was asked a question I had never been asked before. This is a big deal for me. In our business, seldom do things happen that haven’t happened before. We’re often with the same people telling the same stories. or we’re in the same meetings talking about the same topics. The specifics may change, but the generalities remain the same.
Todd Cavanah asked, “Where are you when you write your editorials?â€
I was pleased. Not because Cavanah asked me a question. He was full of questions this past weekend. Fortunately for all of us, his lovely fiancee, Barbarella, I mean, Gabriella, had most of the answers. Including, “Maybe the dingo ate your baby.†But that’s another subject.
I was pleased because I did not have a pat answer ready. Having never been asked before, I had to contemplate the answer.
The quick answer was easy. About 99 times out of 100 I’m physically behind the desk in my office, typing on my computer. If I write my Editorial anywhere else, it creates problems within our art department. These problems aren’t insurmountable, but it’s easier to go with the flow. It’s kind of like doing a remote broadcast at the station. It can be done, but it’s much more comfortable if the jock is behind the mic in the control room.
Anyhow, that was the quick answer. However, the real answer was much more complicated. These editorials are actually “written†throughout the week preceding their publication. I guess you could compare the process with music research. I do call-outs on a weekly basis and usually come up with something of interest to the audience that I then put in “Power†rotation and publish as an Editorial.
Once a month, I do extensive call-out to find the recurrents. Some of my Editorials get their genesis in this fashion. A topic that might be bubbling under the radar for a while will come to fruition after being aged. Or maybe the topic wasn’t hot enough during a really creative week, but when I’m reaching for something, it becomes the subject. Then, there are those “auditorium tests†that occur once a year. Sometimes an idea is born and I work on it for a long time before it’s ready. A thought becomes an Editorial depending on the topic, the traffic and the interest.
So what does this have to do with the Editorial in this week’s magazine? Are subjects so rare that I have to reach for one as lame as, “Where are you when you write your Editorials?â€
The answer is, “Yes.â€Â What can I tell you? It’s a weak week.
This is a problem program directors have almost every week of the year. Too often, nothing exciting is happening in the real world, so we must create excitement to keep our listeners tuned into our insanity. How we accomplish this seperates the good PDs from those who are doomed to mediocrity.
As listeners, we paint pictures in our minds of whats happening behind a great radio station. Where is the jock when he is doing all that cool stuff? What does she look like? Whats going on?
Unfortunately, many programmers never ask themselves these questions: Where are your listeners when you’re running the radio station? What do they look like? What’s going on with them?
Too many radio stations are run by habit. We do things because thats the way we’ve always done them in the past. That’s not good enough in today’s competitive world.
Your listeners are like a girlfriend or boyfriend. You have to get to know them before the relationship can continue. The more you know about them, the more comfortable you feel with them…and they with you.
What do you know about them? Where are they when they’re listening? The only way you’re going to find out is if you get out among them. To program your radio station, you need to become a listener. And your jocks need to do the same thing.
Have someone fill in for your afternoon jock and put him in a car to drive around in traffic. Let him know what your listeners are going through. Then, he’ll be able to better relate. Do the same thing with your morning and midday personalities. Don’t assume they know. Truthfully, they probably have no idea what the listeners are going through while they’re on the air.
Do the same to yourself, so you’ll know where the listeners are when you’re programming the station.
One more thing about Cavanah. He told me doesn’t read all of my Editorials. He glances at them to see if they’re of interest, then either reads them or tosses them away. I know he’ll read this one because I mentioned his name so many times.
I know where my listeners are.
Where Have You Gone?
3/12/1999
Joe Dimaggio died this week. For our generation, and certainly the one right after, it was no startling event. Just another old guy passing away. Joe Dimaggio? We never saw him play.
It is a testament to the values we place on accomplishments today that Dimaggio is remembered by the 25-54 year olds more as the husband of Marilyn Monroe rather than as one of the greatest baseball players who ever lived. In the 90’s era of “flash over substance,†it’s often all about who you’re with rather than who are.
Drop down to the 18-54 year old demo and Joltin’ Joe is known more from the line of Paul Simon’s song, “Mrs. Robinson,†than from his RBIs or the kisses he stole. “Where have you gone, Joe Dimaggio?†became more than a rhetorical question for the losing Yanks. It was the cry of broken hearts and dashed hopes of middle aged, middle America.
In my wild life and times, I’ve had the privilege of meeting many of the rich and famous. One such icon was Joe Dimaggio. I had the honor of sharing a drink with him in a San Francisco bar 15 years ago. I never saw him play. I’m not a big Marilyn Monroe fan and I always thought “Mrs. Robinson†was overrated. But I can describe Joe Dimaggio in one word that transcends all generations. No matter when you were born, Joe was cool.
When he returned from the bathroom, I sang, “Where did you go Joe Dimaggio?†He smiled and pretended to think it was funny. Joe was cool.
But being cool isn’t what this editorial is about. It’s about being like Joe Dimaggio. He was one of the greatest baseball players that ever lived. I’m always interested in what makes one person greater than his peers. What was it that made Joe Dimaggio special way beyond the others who played with him?
The easy answer is talent. Dimaggio could hit, run and throw better than most. But when asked what Dimaggio special, old timers say things like, “He never threw to the wrong base.†“Joe made it look easy.†“He played hard everyday.â€
Joe Dimaggio was epitomized most recently by Michael Jordan. Dimaggio’s Yankees won nine titles in the 13 seasons he played with them. Jordan’s ability to lead his teammates was just as exemplary. Although, extremely gifted, both men had the unique ability of making those who played with them better.
They came to play. Would anyone begrudge Dimaggio or Jordan coasting their way through a game or two? No chance. Both played sick and injured. Dimaggio lost the opportunity to bat .400 one year because he played the last two weeks with an eye infection that caused his vision to blur. He would not sit down because his teammates needed his presence in the lineup to play to their potential.
When asked why he played so hard every day, Dimaggio replied, “Because someone might be seeing me play for the first time.â€
Would that we all had the same drive. In studying the lives of successful people, I’ve found it’s often the simple things that make the difference. The big things are often easy. It’s those little ones, done consistently, that are consistent with successful people.
A goal so simple caused Dimaggio to rise above his peers. It’s a goal we should all strive for. Too often, we’re at our best only when we think it matters.We work a little harder when we have a special opportunity to impress the boss. Or we work harder when we’re challenged. Or when we’re threatened.
Why can’t we motivate ourselves on a daily basis? We should all strive to do our best each day because we expect it. And who knows if someone is watching for the first time.
When I first began at Network 40, a friend secretly sent one of my editorials to a very prestigious magazine and suggested they use me as their music contributor. The publisher was impressed. He made arrangements to read my next two efforts. I was lazy and happened to write two mediocre pieces. The publisher passed. When I found out what happened, I contacted the publisher and sent some of my best writings. He was impressed with the work, but didn’t hire me. I guess he figured if I didn’t consistently do my best for one company, how could I be expected to do the same for another?
Has the same happened to you? Maybe it did and you didn’t know it. Maybe you did a bad air shift when an important PD was listening.  Maybe you had a bad week when a Sr. VP from another company was watching. Maybe you did a poor job because you figured nobody would know.
I made a pledge and I challenge you to do the same. Act each day like someone is seeing you for the first time. What opinion will they draw?
Like Joe Dimaggio, Paul Simon might write a song about you. Or Snoop Dogg.
Depends on who’s listening.
Son
1/2/1999
Sometimes, I like our business better than others. This isn’t one of those times. I lost a friend this week. We all did, even though most of you reading this Editorial didn’t know Michael Atkinson. Too bad. You should have.
Michael was a promotion manager at Columbia Records in the 1970s. He was one of the best. He also was executive producer on a few albums for artists you’ve never heard of. Like Michael Jackson.
I first met Atkinson when I was PD of KHJ Los Angels. Columbia was trying to resurrect Sly Stone’s career and talked me into doing an interview with the “new and improved†version. Michael brought Sly to the station. Despite Columbia’s promises, the interview was a disaster. I was angry and embarrassed. Mike was 6’1†when he arrived at KHJ that day… much smaller when he left.
Out of this strained beginning, a wonderful friendship was born. One of the great things about Michael was his ability to laugh in the face of disaster. He always managed to find something funny about everything that happened around him professionally. That was his life. Unfortunately, he wasn’t so quick to find humor in his personal affairs. That was his death.
Bob Sherwood, who headed up Columbia’s promotion team at the time, joined with Michael and I on some odd journeys, Being a true son of the South, I was colorful. These two California boys weren’t. So they borrowed shamelessly from my life and vocabulary. The three of us used the same greeting toward each other for over 20 years.
“Son!â€
You had to be there.
“Son†took me to Las Vegas to see Charlie Rich. We had to sit through his performance, so Michael and I began drinking heavily. A very mediocre comedian from New Orleans opened the performance and we began to heckle him unmercifully. When he started a bit about the great football team in Louisiana, I screamed, “Go Tigers!â€Â The LSU Tigers are revered in the state.
The poor guy stared weakly into the audience and moaned, “I was talking about the Saints.â€
This was extremely funny to Dr. A. It must have been the booze. For years, he sent me memorabilia from LSU…everything from pillowcases to stuffed animals inscribed, “Go Tigers.â€
Michael left Columbia and joined a start-up trade publication that became his life. For 17 years, Michael was the conscience of Radio & Records. The publishers came and went, but Michael was a fixture.
When I was appointed captain of the ship of fools known as Network 40 six years ago, I tried to hire Michael.
“I love R&R, he said. “It’s my life.â€
Later, when I started beating R&R unmercifully, Mike would call when I went too far. “Son,†he would begin, “although most of what you’re saying is true, accusing Joel of murder is a bit over the line.â€
About a year ago, Michael was fired from R&R. It was a tragedy. Dr. A lost his job. R&R lost its conscience.
Michael never recovered.
I immediately offered him a gig. So did many others. We talked to him of a new beginning. He talked of betrayal. We spoke of the future. He couldn’t forget the past.
Inevitably, Michael became a statistic. In our business, we are quick to apply labels. If you have a job, you’re a winner. If you’re out of work, you’re a loser. The truth is, anyone who labels others is loser.
Michael was a good friend…always willing to go the extra mile to help out. However, as good a friend as Michael was to others, he couldn’t accept our friendship in his time of need. Ultimately, Michael cared more about what the creeps in our business said about him than what his friends thought.
It’s a sad commentary.
Sadder still is the fact that all of his friends did all we could. We offered help. He refused. We called. He never picked up the phone. We knocked. He didn’t open his door. We sent letters that remained unopened.
In this instance, those of us who believe we can change the world were unable to save one life.
We are the losers.
The moral of this Editorial? There are several. We should all struggle to find the good in others as quickly as we point out their shortcomings. There is more to our lives than our jobs…we need to judge our worth by who we are, not what we do. We need to learn how to accept help as well as we give it. Labels are too easy to apply and we’re all better than that.
Michael Atkinson’s life and times are proof positive of all the above…and more.
Go Tigers?
Nah.
Go Michael.
Viva Las Vegas
12/11/1998
It was a mistake from the start. I should have known from the moment I woke up, but the dye had been cast, plans had been made, money had been hoarded and supplies attained. I was way past the point of no return, even after seeing a color picture on the front of the the L.A. Times showing two inches of snow in Las Vegas.
Snow in Las Vegas? And you expect to double down on eleven and get anything except an ace?
Snow in Las Vegas? The hookers are wearing furs.
But being the fool that I am, I plunged ahead, ignoring the miracle of God that screamed, “Don’t go!â€Â No less a prophet than Moses ignored the burning bush, who am I to get a revelation?
The Billboard Music Awards were live in Las Vegas. Being the cynic that I am, I abhor awards shows. But my girlfriend isn’t jaded…yet. I thought this a perfect opportunity to prove to her that award shows and banquets are just a bore. A shower of stars singing their hits just doesn’t get it done for those of us in the business. Unless Elvis comes back for a concert, we aren’t interested. And even then, our seats better be good or we’re not going.
In my infinite wisdom, I figured this would be a perfect opportunity to give her a lesson. The show was, after all, in Las Vegas. We could have a good time, in spite of the boredom of the acceptance speeches. Then, the next time one of these things comes up, she won’t be so excited and will be more than satisfied to drop by the obligatory parties afterwards to see and be seen.
The plane ride over gave a hint of what was to come. Steve Zapp, Bruce Reiner and Deb Peterson were standing in line, waiting for their tickets while working the cell phones. We went immediately to the bar for Bloody Marys. It didn’t help
Checking into the great hotel, I was informed that on my last trip, I had only lost a couple of grand, not enough for the room to be comped. They were kind enough, however, to give me the big $1250 suite for $250…like they were going to be able to sell it to anyone else on a Monday night. But I forged ahead.
Tickets to the show were accompanied by seat belts and altitude sickness pills. I won’t say the seats were in the rafters, but when Garth Brooks flew high in the air with the help of wires attached to a special harness, we were looking down on him. Stevie Wonder could see better than us.
I was making a great impression.
The show itself was a clinic in bad production. I’ve seen better at the UCLA Film School. We left after Mariah thanked Tommy and Don…the only class move in the show, besides her performance.
John Kilgo, who’s ruined his career by taking a job with Jeff McClusky, offered to buy us dinner at The Palm. I’m always up for a free meal, so we accepted.
That’s when the night turned really ugly.
After dinner and six bottles of vintage wine, Kilgo noticed a woman walking into the restaurant and commented on how he might ask her to join us. I sneaked a peek.
“That’s no woman,†I told John. “It’s a guy in a dress.â€
Kilgo protested, insisting it was the woman of his dreams.
A waiter overheard our conversation and joined in. “You’re discussing the cute number in the green dress?â€
“My friend says she’s a he,†Kilgo growled. “Tell him the truth.â€
The waiter smiled. “Her name is David. He works for us.â€
It was the end of the line for old, “Why is it?†He quickly paid the check and tried not to panic, even when David smiled and tried to slip him a phone number.
We went looking for programmers to join us in the suite for a party. It was slim pickings…reminiscent of a Hitmakers convention. We managed to gather a few lost souls and trudged up the strip to the hotel. The wind was cold and hard, slapping our faces like the hand of a pimp against the cheek of a lazy working girl.
The party got wild. Security was called on three different occasions, but not until the grand piano went through the plate glass window did the volume really start to red-line.
Fortunately, Larry (the accountant for K-Ci & JoJo) paid for all the damages. MCA will see it when he asks for the next advance.
Our group got sloppy drunk and unruly. Zapp lost his plane ticket on a last-minute parlay at the crap table, Deb ate french fries, Reiner got married in the Velvet Elvis Chapel with all of us as witnesses and my girlfriend wants to go to the Grammys.
As for Kilgo? He left with David.
A Family Affair
8/28/1998
The changing landscape of our business has generated a ripple effect that washes over all employees…from the president’s office right down to the sanitation engineers. Being “well-read†in our industry once was quantified by a familiarity with trade publications. Now, our majority pours over the Wall Street Journal. Not long ago, a radio company could only own 12 stations total. Soon, many will own that number in one market. Record companies were owned by independent raconteurs who built their labels on a love of music and an astute business sense. Today, most are owned by large conglomerates. The music of choice is that generated by bells ringing on the cash register.
It’s big business, baby, and like it or not, we’re a part of it.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Big business brings an entire package. Pockets are deeper for promotion, marketing, research and development. In the short term, even the salaries are higher. But there is no free lunch.
Creativity can suffer. Individualism is harder to maintain. A Family Affair is no longer the company song.
In a relatively short time, we’ve gone from, “Your loyalty is being rewarded,†to “What have you done for me lately?â€
Today, the catch-phrase is “What are you going to do for me tomorrow?â€
Remember when we had those “five-year plans?â€Â With companies changing hands so quickly while stocks rise and fall like a Love Rollercoaster, those “five-year plans†are mostly obsolete. If you’re lucky, it’s more like five months, or in some cases, five weeks. And depending on how you answer questions in the department head meeting, it could be five minutes.
Record companies were once looked upon with envy by those in radio. Where programmers notched their belts and judged their worth on the number of times they were fired, record executives couldn’t relate. Most had never been terminated.
It’s hard to believe that from a personnel standpoint, radio is more stable than the record business. More record executives have lost their jobs in the past few years than in the history of the industry. And it’s not going to get any better.
Conglomerates are buying more stations and record companies. For this concept to work, operating expenses must be cut. Don’t believe that this means getting rid of a few computers and phone lines. We’re talking about people.
This had to change the way we feel about our jobs. There was a time, in the not so distant past, that people worked for people. I wrote many letters to new employees that began, “Welcome to the (KHJ, WRKO, KFRC, etc.) family.â€Â Those words can’t be used today. It’s all about business. Family has nothing to do with it.
All of us need mentors. As baby deejays or fledgling record executives, we need older, wiser, smarter people to teach us the ways of our business. Those of us who have attained some measure of success can look back on those who helped shape our future. Then, we can use the knowledge that we gain to pass along to others.
I was lucky. I had three people who helped shaped my world: Buzz Bennett, who taught me that creativity was the root of all success; Paul Drew, who passed along his passion for careful planning and execution; and Gary Stevens, who instilled an understanding of the business part of the puzzle. Without all three of these lessons, my accomplishments would have been much less. Creativity without planning and execution is a play without words. Creativity, planning and execution, without a knowledge of how the three combine within the structure of business, is as worthless as a sail on a power boat.
Today, it’s more difficult to find mentors. Too often, those with the knowledge are too busy moving their company ahead to take time to share and teach.
As for those needing to be mentored, it’s tough in today’s workplace. There is no sense of family. The motivating atmosphere is more a fear of failure rather than an excitement to succeed.
We need to understand the business and our part in it. We all got into this business because of love. We love music and we love the excitement of the entertainment industry. That’s what drew us into our jobs in the first place. Now, we’re driven by a company that is more about profit and loss than a love of music. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. It’s just reality.
We must be self-motivated. We must continue to nurture the love we have within the framework of a business environment. We should still work for and derive a great deal of pride from making our bosses satisfied, but the greater pride should come from within because of a job well-done.
If you work only to get accolades from the person in charge, you’re dooming yourself to disappointment. The boss could be gone tomorrow.
Judge your worth and accomplishments on how you’re fulfilling your own goals. Take pride in yourself. But don’t confuse your job with your family. It’s a job. A good one, but nevertheless, just a job.
When you’re done for the day, then you can go home and sing all night long…that’s a family tradition.