Author: brucehhackett

Pretty good at making bad decisions

Posted on by brucehhackett

In life, there are so many factors that might lead to making ill-advised choices that it’s a wonder we make any good decisions at all.

Arrogance and overconfidence cause us to do things we wouldn’t otherwise do. So can stubbornness, inflexibility and apathy. Overwhelming emotions — fear, anger, greed, lust, guilt — can affect our thinking at precisely the wrong time. Impulsiveness, immaturity or ignorance can manipulate us in damaging ways when we need to make decisions with far-ranging consequences.

In the business world, these things can influence those in leadership positions, and the ramifications can affect the lives and livelihoods of hundreds, even thousands, of others.

For half a century, the rock music business has been populated with misguided executives and decision makers (sometimes the artists themselves) who chose courses of action which, over time, proved to be wrong-headed, even calamitous. Rolling Stone recently compiled a catalog of 30 stupid decisions in rock history, and from that list, I selected a dozen that struck me as particularly noteworthy.

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Decca Records rejects The Beatles

Manager Brian Epstein had tried in vain to secure a record contract for The Beatles with a half-dozen different companies in 1961 but had no takers. Decca Records, to their credit, was the first to invite them in for a commercial test audition, at which they performed 15 songs, including three Lennon-McCartney originals. A month later, Decca sent word to Epstein that they weren’t interested, saying, “The Beatles have no future in show business. Guitar groups are on the way out.” It’s unclear which individual at Decca had the final say on rejecting the group that would soon change the face of pop music, but there’s no question Decca missed out on many millions because someone there couldn’t hear the potential in those early recordings. Decca ended up signing The Tremeloes instead, who scored a few hits in the ’60s but had only a fraction of the impact and influence The Beatles had. (A couple months later, George Martin at EMI Records’ Parlophone label liked what he heard and signed the Liverpool foursome, and we all know how their chemistry worked out.)

Bands refuse to be on “Woodstock” album or film

More than 30 musical acts performed at the Woodstock Music and Arts Fair in August 1969 in upstate New York, and several of them — especially Crosby, Stills and Nash, Joe Cocker, The Who, Santana and Sly and the Family Stone — benefited in a big way from their participation because they agreed to be included in the Michael Wadleigh documentary film and the triple-album release, which were both big commercial successes. Other bands, however, made the boneheaded decision to refuse permission to use their performances on the record or in the movie. Blood, Sweat and Tears, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Mountain and The Grateful Dead all said no, which denied them the exposure to the much broader audience that saw the film and bought the album. Leslie West, Mountain’s guitarist, said the band played a strong, hard-rocking set on Day Two, but he never got a satisfactory answer as to why the group’s manager chose not to sign off on the contract. “Who knows? Maybe he asked for too much money,” he said years later, no doubt wondering how a different decision might have changed the band’s career arc in the ensuing years.

Prince’s “Love Symbol” replaced his name

The Artist Now Known as an Unpronounceable Symbol

Prince was a wildly prolific artist, recording many dozens of songs and compiling them into albums, but Warner Brothers, his record company, was reluctant to “flood the market” with too many releases and held them back. By 1993, Prince said he felt like “a slave” and, in hopes of nullifying his contract, changed his name to a “Love Symbol” that combined the symbols for man and woman with something resembling a trumpet. Warner Bros. started calling him “The Artist Formerly Known as Prince,” and the whole thing ended up confusing and/or alienating some of his fans, and sales suffered. By 2000, he changed his name back to Prince and admitted the stunt hadn’t worked out as intended.

A mock-up cover of what might have been

Elvis misses out on “A Star is Born” opportunity

In 1976, singer/actress Barbra Streisand and then-partner Jon Peters were eager to revive the Hollywood classic “A Star is Born,” reimagining it for the music business instead of the film industry. Streisand would play the budding young singer on her way up, and she and Peters set their sights on Elvis Presley to play the part of the past-his-prime rock star. Presley, who had made a handful of decent movies amidst a raft of bombs throughout the ’60s, allegedly showed real interest in the project, but his notoriously greedy, controlling manager, Colonel Tom Parker, stood in the way. Parker decided to ask for too much money and insisted that Presley receive top billing, and that the story must tone down the characterization of of Presley as “washed up.” The producers, put off by these excessive demands, turned their attentions elsewhere, eventually casting singer Kris Kristofferson instead. The film and soundtrack album were both enormous box office and pop chart successes, which would have been a real shot in the arm for Presley, who needed a win at that point in his life. Less than a year later, Presley was dead.

Wright, Gilmour and Mason without Waters, 1987

Roger Waters underestimates the rest of Pink Floyd

As the runaway successes of “Dark Side of the Moon,” “Wish You Were Here,” “Animals” and “The Wall” made Pink Floyd one of the top rock acts in the world, relations between chief songwriter Roger Waters and the other band members deteriorated. By 1984, David Gilmour, Nick Mason and Rick Wright found Waters’ ego insufferable, and Waters decided he’d had enough of their lack of gratitude for his talents and chose to leave for a solo career. He felt he WAS Pink Floyd, and without him, the group would simply fold. But he miscalculated how much cachet the Pink Floyd brand had, and the fact that the group had been essentially a faceless entity. Many fans didn’t know or care about a solo career from any of these guys, just “more Pink Floyd.” Consequently, when they went on tour simultaneously in 1987, ticket sales were tepid for Waters while the band sold out arenas everywhere. Waters remained bitter for decades and has remained estranged from Pink Floyd except for only a couple of one-off appearances.

The Bee Gees and Frampton in Pepper outfits

“Sergeant Pepper: The Musical”

In 1978, Peter Frampton and The Bee Gees were riding high on two of the best selling albums of all time: “Frampton Comes Alive” and the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack. Bee Gees manager Robert Stigwood convinced the two superstar acts to join forces for a “jukebox musical” film loosely based on the songs from The Beatles’ watershed 1967 LP “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.” They could’ve said no, but they went along with it, despite a lame script and substandard re-imaginings of Beatles songs for the soundtrack. Critics pounced, and a case could be made that the reputations of both acts never fully recovered from the ill-advised project. They could’ve said, “We goofed on that one,” but the damage was done, thanks to pre-release comments liked this one from Robin Gibb: “Kids today don’t know the Beatles’ ‘Sgt. Pepper,’ and when they see the film and hear us doing it, that will be the version they relate to and remember. The Beatles no longer exist as a band and never performed ‘Sgt. Pepper’ live, so when ours comes out, it will be as if theirs never existed.” The arrogance was breathtaking.

The Beach Boys take a pass on Monterey Pop

The Monterey Pop Festival, which preceded Woodstock by two years, had a little something for everybody: psychedelia (Jimi Hendrix, Grateful Dead), folk rock (Simon and Garfunkel, The Byrds) sunny pop (The Mamas and The Papas, The Association), blues (Janis Joplin), jazz (Hugh Masakela) and soul (Otis Redding). It was a gentle, tolerant audience eager to hear a broad array of groovy music. Even though Brian Wilson served on the festival board, and “Good Vibrations” had been a #1 hit only six months earlier, The Beach Boys reached the curious conclusion that they somehow wouldn’t fit in and chose to take themselves out of the lineup. Mike Love has said they feared they might seem outdated when seen up against the edgier, newer acts of that “Summer of Love.” They still had good music ahead of them, but they missed a prime chance to claim their place in the pantheon and still be considered truly hip members of the rock/pop music scene rather than an oldies act in the years ahead.

Jerry Lee and Myra Lewis, 1958

Pioneer rocker takes 13-year-old cousin/bride on European tour

Jerry Lee Lewis was right up there with Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly and Elvis as one of the trailblazers of rock ‘n’ roll in 1955-1958. “Great Balls of Fire,” “Breathless” and “Whole Lotta Shakin’ Going On” became iconic musical milestones of that era. But Lewis seriously misjudged the public’s mood and moral judgment when he headed off for his first tour of Great Britain. The press quickly learned that the woman by his side, Myra, was not only his third wife in six years, she turned out to be his first cousin…and she was only 13. In his home state of Louisiana, this might’ve been legal and no big deal, but in England and the rest of the United States, this was shocking and unacceptable. The tour was canceled after only a couple of shows, and Lewis struggled mightily on the charts and on the road for many years afterwards. He eventually had some success as a country artist and on the ’50s nostalgia package tours, but the scandal followed him for the rest of his days.

Howe, Downes, White, Squire and Horn as Yes, 1980

The Buggles join Yes

By 1979, with New Wave and disco holding sway on the charts, progressive rock as a genre seemed to be way out of fashion, which posed a dilemma within the ranks of Yes. Vocalist Jon Anderson and keyboardist Rick Wakeman preferred lighter, more folk-oriented material, while guitarist Steve Howe, bassist Chris Squire and drummer Alan White leaned toward harder arrangements, which proved to be an irreconcilable difference that sent Anderson and Wakeman packing. Yes’s manager, a guy named Brian Lane, was also managing an act called The Buggles, who had a big New Wave hit in the UK with “Video Killed the Radio Star.” Since Yes had upcoming tour dates and needed a new album out beforehand, Lane suggested bringing Buggles principals Trevor Horn and Geoff Downes into Yes to flesh out and update the group’s sound. The resulting LP “Drama” was an unwelcome departure, and when Yes took the stage with two new people out front, fans balked. “It was a nightmare,” conceded Squire, and Yes broke up for several years. When they reformed in 1983, Anderson was back as lead singer.

Bob Dylan’s “Self-Portrait”

For the first decade of his distinguished career, Bob Dylan wrote and recorded game-changing songs featuring profound lyrics that captured the changing times better than any other artist. By 1970, though, he was sick to death of the “voice of a generation” label that had been pinned on him, so he made a drastic move that can only be viewed as foolhardy in retrospect. “I said, ‘Well, fuck it, I wish these people would just forget about me,'” he said in 1984. “I wanna do something they can’t possibly like, they can’t relate to at all.” The result was “Self Portrait,” a double album comprised almost entirely of covers made almost unlistenable by uncharacteristic strings and choirs. He said it was intended as a cruel joke but it backfired when the press and the public crucified him for it. “The album went out there, and the people said, ‘This ain’t what we want,’ and they got more resentful.” It took him a few years to fully rebound from that move.

A Taste of Honey win Best New Artist Grammy, 1979

The Grammys overlook bonafide artists for one-hit wonders

Over the years, those who cast votes in The Grammys have shown themselves to be hopelessly out of touch, and nowhere more so than in the Best New Artist category. Too often, this award has gone to someone who had one popular hit single and then was barely ever heard from again. In the 1970s, this happened almost every year, as major rock bands who were truly groundbreaking and far more worthy were passed over for a “flavor of the month” group that had one big hit and then vanished. In 1977, it was Starland Vocal Band (“Afternoon Delight”) over Boston; in 1978, it was Debby Boone (“You Light Up My Life”) over Foreigner. The most embarrassing example came in 1979, when A Taste of Honey (“Boogie Oogie Oogie”) inexplicably triumphed over legitimate contenders Elvis Costello, The Cars and Toto. Good grief, what a colossal error.

Hells Angels picked to provide security at Altamont concert

To close out their U.S. tour at the end of 1969, The Rolling Stones hoped to capitalize on the rock-festival vibe then in vogue by staging a free concert in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, but they hadn’t planned sufficiently and were forced to move the event to Altamont Speedway, an auto racing venue 40 miles east of Oakland. Inadequate water supplies, food and toilet facilities made for a surly mood, and with a stage barely three feet high, security became a crucial component. Bay Area bands like Jefferson Airplane and The Grateful Dead suggested the violence-prone Hells Angels, a dangerous idea by all accounts, and the Stones, as headliners, inexplicably signed off on it. The biker group, juiced up on too much booze and drugs, manhandled concertgoers and beat one man to death in view of a film crew as Mick Jagger and the band played “Under My Thumb.” It was a horrible decision that led many observers to label the event “the end of the Sixties peace-and-love dream.”

A lifetime of promises, a world of dreams

Posted on by brucehhackett

My introduction to Tina Turner came in 1971, as it did for many other white suburban kids of my age, with these spoken words: “You know, every now and then, I think you might like to hear something from us nice and easy. But there’s just one thing: You see, we never ever do nothing nice and easy! We always do it nice and rough. So we’re going to take the beginning of this song and do it easy. Then we’re going to do the finish rough.”

And with that, Ike and Tina Turner launched into a slow, sensual reading of the first verse and chorus of John Fogerty’s “Proud Mary,” then abruptly segued into a frenzied double-time arrangement for the rest of the song. Holy smokes, I thought, this is way more interesting than Creedence Clearwater Revival’s ho-hum original!

Full confession: It would take me many years before I developed a full-blown appreciation for Turner’s gifts as a one-of-a-kind entertainer. I certainly knew her big hits from the 1980s — “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” “Better Be Good to Me,” “Private Dancer,” “We Don’t Need Another Hero,” “Typical Male,” “The Best” — and her reputation as one of the most electrifying live performers to ever take a stage.

But it really wasn’t until the past week, in the wake of Turner’s death May 24 at age 83, after reading all the tributes and listening more intently to Turner’s recorded legacy, that I came to understand how much she overcame and how much she accomplished in her 50 years in show business. I strongly urge you to scroll down to the Spotify playlist at the end of this essay and hit “play.” So many superb performances!

Anna Mae Bullock was only 18 when she met and first heard Ike Turner and The Kings of Rhythm perform at a St. Louis nightclub. Turner had been a formidable guitarist and songwriter in his own right, responsible for seminal rock ‘n’ roll records like 1951’s “Rocket 88,” and he knew how to present a riveting live act. But one night in 1957 during a break, the petite girl who longed to be on stage got her chance, belting out B.B. King’s “You Know I Love You,” and Turner was gobsmacked. “I would write songs with Little Richard in mind,” said Turner in his 1999 autobiography, “but I didn’t have no Little Richard to sing them. Once I heard Tina, she became my Little Richard. Listen closely to Tina and who do you hear? Little Richard singing in the female voice.”

Her potent, bluesy singing and supercharged dancing style soon made her the group’s star attraction, and Turner’s wife. The ensemble was renamed The Ike and Tina Turner Revue and became one of the premier touring soul acts of the early-to-mid-1960s in R&B venues on what was then called “the chitlin’ circuit.” Their work wasn’t yet embraced by mainstream audiences, but if you pay close attention to the first dozen tracks selected for the playlist (especially “A Fool in Love,” “Cussin’, Cryin’ and Carryin’ On” and the Phil Spector-produced “River Deep, Mountain High”), you’ll be reminded (or discover) what all the fuss was about.

Over in England, The Rolling Stones invited the group to open for them, first on a British tour in 1966 and then on an American tour in 1969, which caused rock audiences in both countries to sit up and take notice. (You could make a strong case that Mick Jagger was deeply influenced by Tina Turner’s stage presence as he developed his own in-concert persona.)

Tina with The Rolling Stones backstage in 1981

I’m reluctant to mention too much about the horrible abuse and violence Tina endured at the hands of her first husband, particularly once he developed a cocaine addiction and an irrational jealousy of her ever-increasing time in the spotlight. Suffice it to say that she suffered indignities and injuries that hurt her self-esteem and her career for many years in the ’60s and ’70s, and she deserves a huge amount of credit for eventually breaking free from his suffocating control.

“It’s very difficult to explain to people why I stayed as long as I did,” she said many years later. “I’d left Tennessee as a little country girl and stepped into a man’s life who was a producer and had money and was a star in his own right. At one time, Ike Turner had been very nice to me, but later he changed to become a horrible person.”

Desperate to be rid of him, she agreed to divorce terms that left her virtually penniless. She gave Ike nearly all their money and the publishing royalties for her compositions. “You take everything I’ve made in the last sixteen years,” she said. “I’ll take my future.”

Turner’s solo career was slow to take off. Her first few albums didn’t sell, her record label dropped her, and she was back to playing small clubs and in ill-advised cabaret acts for a time. When Olivia Newton-John’s manager, Roger Davies, began guiding her in 1980, Turner readopted the gritty, hard-rocking style that had made her a crossover star, which led to a startling cover version of The Temptations’ “Ball of Confusion” on an album of rock and soul covers called British Electric Foundation. That in turn led to a stupendous remake of Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together,” which reached #26 on US pop charts in 1983. That success attracted Capitol Records, who approved an album with the caveat that it be recorded and released in less than a month.

A number of prominent songwriters and producers — Rupert Hine, Mark Knopfler, Ann Peebles, Terry Britten — came forward to offer their songs and their services, and the result was “Private Dancer,” one of the biggest albums of 1984 and, indeed, of the 1980s, selling upwards of 10 million copies worldwide. The LP was described by one critic as “innovative fusion of old-fashioned soul singing and new wave synth-pop.” Seven tracks were released as singles in either the US or the UK, with “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” “Better Be Good to Me” and “Private Dancer” all reaching the Top Ten here.

At age 44, Turner had finally attained the superstardom she’d dreamed of since first stepping on stage. Four more albums over the next 15 years achieved platinum status (especially the 1986 follow-up “Break Every Rule,” which reached #4), and she cemented her reputation as one of the top concert draws in the world. She also showed her chops in film, playing the ruthless Aunty Entity in the 1985 blockbuster dystopian action hit “Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome,” which spawned another #1 hit, “We Don’t Need Another Hero.”

One of the things I most admire about Turner is her ability and willingness to record covers of popular R&B songs and rock tunes with equal flair. Check out some of the titles you’ll find in her catalog: “Come Together” and “Get Back” (The Beatles), “Living For the City” (Stevie Wonder), “In the Midnight Hour” (Wilson Pickett), “Reconsider Baby” (Elvis Presley), “The Acid Queen” (The Who). I’m even more impressed by the number of major rock stars who have partnered with Turner on various duet projects over the years: Eric Clapton (“Tearing Us Apart”), Rod Stewart (“It Takes Two”), Bono (“Theme from ‘Goldeneye'”), Bryan Adams (“It’s Only Love”), David Bowie (“Let’s Dance”).

Her tempestuous first marriage provided much of the material for the 1993 film “What’s Love Got to Do With It,” with Angela Bassett and Laurence Fishburne in the lead roles. Turner re-recorded some of her hits, and one new song, “I Don’t Want to Fight,” but otherwise declined to participate. “Why would I want to see Ike Turner beat me up again?” she said at the time.

The best indication of how much respect artists have earned is the number of major players who praise them, both in life and in death. “How do we say farewell to a woman who owned her pain and trauma and used it as a means to help change the world?” Bassett said last week. “Through her courage in telling her story, and her determination to carve out a space in rock and roll for herself and for others who look like her, Tina Turner showed others who lived in fear what a beautiful future filled with love, compassion, and freedom could look like.”

Beyoncé, arguably the most popular singer on the planet at the moment, said, “My beloved queen. I love you endlessly. I’m so grateful for your inspiration and all the ways you have paved the way. You are strength and resilience. You are the epitome of power and passion. We are all so fortunate to have witnessed your kindness and beautiful spirit.”

The Who’s Pete Townshend, who had suggested Turner for the part of The Acid Queen in the 1975 film version of “Tommy,” described her as “an astonishing performer, an astounding singer, an R&B groundbreaker. If you ever had the privilege of seeing Tina perform live, you will know how utterly scary she could be. She was an immense presence. She was, of course, my Acid Queen in the ‘Tommy’ movie, and it is often my job to sing that song with The Who, so she always comes to mind, which isn’t easy to deal with. The song is about abuse at the hands of an evil woman. How she turned that song on its head! All the anger of her years as a victim exploded into fire, and bluster, and a magnificent and crazy cameo role that will always stay with me.”

The multi-talented Oprah Winfrey noted, “I started out as a fan of Tina Turner, then a full-on groupie, following her from show to show around the country, and then, eventually, we became real friends. She contained a magnitude of inner strength that grew throughout her life. She was a role model not only for me but for the world. She encouraged a part of me I didn’t know existed.”

The time Winfrey was invited on stage in Los Angeles to dance with Turner “was the most fun I ever had stepping out of my box. Tina lived out of the box and encouraged me and every woman to do the same.”

The industry has given Turner many accolades. Twice she was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (with Ike in 1991 and on her own in 2021); she received a Kennedy Center Honor in 2005 and a Grammy lifetime achievement award in 2018.

Rest in peace, Tina. Your place in music history is iron-clad secure.

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