Archive for the ‘Russ Solomon’ Tag

Passing The Baton   Leave a comment

January 1, 2019

The start of a new year is always a demarcation line. It’s the most obvious moment—aside from our birthdays—where each of us knows another year has passed. Carl Reiner was quoted as saying “Each morning when I wake up I check the obituaries. If I don’t see my name I already feel better.” Yes we’re all a little older, but that’s how things work.

I looked at the list of all the “notables” who’ve passed and wonder how each of these famous—or infamous—people have affected, touched, or otherwise changed my life. It’s always surprising to me that I can find a personal connection to many of them. So here are my thoughts on those we lost in 2018.

What did you think about when you heard the name—nothing else, just the name—Stephen Hiillenburg? It didn’t mean anything to me. It turns out he was important to me for the simple(?) fact that he created the cartoon character SpongeBob SquarePants. My daughter Caitie and I—Caitie was about 10 years old at the time—were driving to Indiana (from Connecticut) to visit family. After a long day on the interstates we were entertaining ourselves by watching TV in our motel room, and that was the moment SpongeBob came into our lives. We laughed for a couple of hours and both became huge fans of the underwater hero. Thanks Stephen.

Robin Leach died last year. In some ways he too was a character worth remembering. In the end, almost all of the overstuffed, vacuous, self-important wealthy people he interviewed became laughable, at least to me.

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     On the musical side we lost some greats, both household names and lesser-knowns. Before getting into the music business I had heard South African musician Hugh Masekela’s hit single “Grazing in the Grass”. Little more than a year later I was promoting the Friends of Distinction, an RCA act who did a vocal cover of Masekela’s hit, creating a hit of their own. Years later I met Hugh when he recorded an album with my former boss Herb Alpert. Small world indeed.

Another music icon I had the pleasure of meeting was Charles Neville. I was in New Orleans and at Tipitina’s for a performance by the Neville Brothers. It was 1988 or ’89 and that band of brothers were amazing.

Lorraine Gordon died. She kept the flame of New York’s Village Vanguard alive after the death of her husband Max. I made many stops at the club to see some of the greatest live music acts in a somewhat intimate setting.

Joe Jackson, father of, yes, those Jacksons died in June. I recall meeting Joe in the late 1980s as A&M Records had increasingly amazing success with Janet Jackson. In business meetings or casual settings Joe had the ability to smile and scare the hell out of you simultaneously. Clearly a dysfunctional family at times, but they changed the music business.

Aretha Franklin died. I could only smile when I saw the photographs and video of the line of pink Cadillacs lining up to pay tribute at her funeral in Detroit.

Bluesman Otis Rush, founding member of Jefferson Airplane Marty Balin, jazz great Sonny Fortune all died. As did Morgana King, and Nancy Wilson. I first heard Wilson’s 1964 recording of “How Glad I Am” while in high school. It’s a great record a half-century later.

And ABC’s Keith Jackson died. His voice was one of the most comfortable ways of listening to a sporting event. I noticed the passing of disc jockey Dan Ingram. He was one of those Top-40 radio voices that transcended the music. Ingram was, like Casey Kasem, Larry Lujack, the Real Don Steele, and others who came to us as if from the ether. Cousin Brucie is still with us (on Sirius XM) thank goodness.

     Hollywood gave up some significant names in 2018. Penny Marshall became a successful film director but I will always remember her as Laverne DeFazio on television’s “Laverne & Shirley”. Lyricist Norman Gimbel died. He wrote the lyrics to the “Happy Days” TV show theme music. It’s more likely he’d like us to remember another set of lyrics he wrote: “The Girl from Ipanema”.

 

     Burt Reynolds died. His epitaph should read something like “He did it his way”. Clint Walker died. A classic ‘bigger than life’ actor in many westerns, I remember him a little more for two small things he did. First, he starred in a made-for-TV movie titled “Yuma”. A small screen film but he helped make it memorable. The other thing was his Christmas recording of “Silver Bells”.

Clint dollarkgrhqng0e1fwr7.jpg Yes, Clint Walker sang, and I had the single on my jukebox to prove it. Margot Kidder died. I attended a John Anderson for President fundraiser in Los Angeles in 1980, and ran into a friend who was dating Margot. In typical fashion I didn’t realize who she was.
Steven Bochco gave us “Hill Street Blues”, “LA Law” and more. Taylor 5bc24ef9708ec.image.jpg

Jim Taylor died. He was one of the most formidable running backs in the NFL during the Lombardi years with the Green Bay Packers.

Stan Lee. He single-handedly changed the comic book industry. Carl Kasell died. He spent years at NPR doing the news with absolute professionalism. Then, semi-retired, he became the perfect comedic companion to Peter Sagal on radio’s news quiz “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me”. And Tom Wolfe died. He wrote “The Right Stuff”. That’s all I need to know.

Stephen Hawking died. He outlived and outlasted many others not so severely afflicted as he. And as Penny said to Leonard on “Big Bang Theory”, “He’s that really smart guy, right?” Right!.

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     My Friend Russ Solomon died. He only created Tower Records. I wrote a column a few years ago decrying the fact that Russ was not in the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame. He reinvented music retailing. And others followed.

There were, obviously, many more famous and near-famous deaths in 2018. To those I met, worked with, never met, and worshipped from afar, you touched my life and so many others. Let’s all raise a glass to them.

David Steffen

©2019 David Steffen

Photos from top to bottom: Nancy Wilson; Clint Walker; Jim Taylor; Russ Solomon.

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Facebook, Rhubarb, Tower Records, And The Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Fame   Leave a comment

November 1, 2016

To put things in perspective, I’m a late bloomer when it comes to actually using Facebook. Until about six months ago I avoided Facebook much as I did rhubarb as a child. My mother, grandmother, older sister and others in my family constantly told me “rhubarb is delicious. As a side dish, as a pie.” Peach pie I get. Rhubarb pie, not so much. Honestly, I can’t even believe any self-respecting rabbit would touch Rhubarb. And so it was with me and Facebook. For years I avoided, resisted, ignored it. But unlike rhubarb, I finally got around to paying attention and have come to accept Facebook’s place in our lives.

In February 1972 I was working for Summit Distribution, a record distributor in Chicago. Harold Childs, the Senior VP of Promotion for Los Angeles-based A&M Records had spent the day in Chicago interviewing candidates for the local promotion job. As it happens, I was the last interview of the day and Harold was running late. He ended up interviewing me in the back of a 1972 Oldsmobile headed to O’Hare Airport so that he could catch his flight back to Los Angeles. As we parted company on the ramp outside the Continental Airlines terminal, I walked back to the Olds and thought to myself, this interview went nowhere. Lo and behold, Harold’s office called the next day and invited me to come to Los Angeles and have another go at the interview. I could only assume that the other six interviews had been absolute crap, or that I must really be awesome. OK, the latter never crossed my mind but I was determined to succeed where candidates number one through six had failed. To my pleasant surprise the visit to A&M’s Hollywood offices was a success. When I returned to Chicago I was working for A&M.

While visiting sunny southern California that week I took my first turn through a Tower Records store. Of course, it was Tower Sunset—not the biggest store in the chain but certainly the most famous, and Tower was different from other record stores. Walking through the front door it was obvious that I had entered the epicenter of every rock n’ roll musician’s wet dream. Stacks and stacks of vinyl records; bin upon bin of vinyl catalog, plenty of tapes, 45-rpm singles, posters, books, and atmosphere. It was the equivalent of standing outside a great Italian bakery where the aromas were irresistible. I understood immediately the importance of Tower Records and the man behind this record store chain: Russ Solomon.

Russ has always been a welcoming sort of guy and once secured, his friendship is durable. In fact, shortly after moving back to California in 2007 I drove to Sacramento to have lunch with him. It was a reminder of how we often spoke—at one of the stores, or at the chain’s headquarters in Sacramento, over dinner, or in the parking lot of one of the Tower stores. One such visit began with a flight from Burbank to Sacramento, followed by a drive to a dock on the American River to join some friends aboard a cabin cruiser. We spent the afternoon cruising up (down?) the American, before adjourning to a thoroughly enjoyable dinner at the Solomon home. It was so enjoyable, that some time after midnight I managed to curl up and go to sleep on the floor of a hallway between the living area and the guest bathroom. I slept like a rock, and recall flying back to Burbank the next day feeling almost totally refreshed, and quickly wrote Russ a thank you note telling him how comfortable his floor had been.

 

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(John Battenberg)

Tower Records was one of the single most important elements in the makeup of the American Music Industry for more than three decades. Why the Tower chain no longer exists is not a mystery. Like music since the late 1980s, Tower’s aisles and stacks of records and tapes have been compressed. Instead of the square footage in Hollywood, or Greenwich Village, or Mountain View, or Ginza, or Piccadilly Circus, the recordings were shrunk as digital files; so many megabytes and gigabytes of digital files on your iPod and later your iPhone. But for those three plus decades, Tower was the World’s Mecca for recorded music. And the man who created Tower, I’m happy to say, has been a friend of mine.

About a month ago I read a Facebook posting about getting the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland to add Russ Solomon to its list of honored inductees. My reaction was essentially, “WTF?”. Russ isn’t in the there? His absence from the hall lies somewhere between an unfortunate oversight and abject stupidity. He deserves a place in the Hall not simply based on the fondness so many of us feel for Russ but for the way he helped change the face of retailing music from a “store” to a marketing Mecca for the music industry. For all of you who have memories of walking into a Tower Store somewhere in the world, stop for a moment and recall the visuals, the artists, and our collective love of music. Tower was an indispensable ingredient in the success of the music business’s greatest decades.

The reality is Russ doesn’t need the Hall. The Hall needs Russ. The opening of the original Tower store in Sacramento was a seminal moment in popular music. In fact, Tower is one of the places where Rock Music’s Hall was created, and the members of the board, and the people who manage the Hall in Cleveland should wake up. Now is the time. Russ was as important to the music industry and to the Hall as each of the 310 names already inscribed on those walls in Cleveland. And he has always been a lot more fun. Vote him in. Then have a piece of peach pie. And from those of us who love you Russ, play on!

Posted November 5, 2016 by Jazzdavid in Media, Music History, Popular Music, Uncategorized

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