Hi Bob,

I just finished "Outliers," as well. After reading the chapter about the 10,000 hours, it occurred to me that by the time "Go All The Way" came out,in 1972, I’d spent 10 years studying the music of my favorite songwriters and writing songs of my own.

I was talking to my 86 year old aunt, who was a child prodigy on the violin and played with the Cleveland Symphony for 43 years, about the book, and when I mentioned the "10,000 hours", she looked up at me and said "That’s not nearly enough."

Eric Carmen

_____________________________________

Bob,

I had the honor of working with and knowing Laura for several years in the mid  1980’s. I engineered a lot of sessions at her home/ studio in Danbury Conn., but the only music released from that period was a  beautiful tune for a soundtrack called "Broken Rainbow" and a great double album "Live at the Bottom Line". I recorded her solo at the Bottom Line the following year, but those shows weren’t released either. Laura was a lovely gentle soul, and more talented and humble than just about anyone I’ve ever met.

While working at her home studio I discovered her "million-air" award honoring her for a million radio plays of "Wedding Bell Blues" hidden away under the kitchen sink next to the Brillo pads. This in fact was the only item I ever saw there that honored all the great songs she had written .

Truly a wonderful talent who left us too soon.

Mark Linett

_____________________________________

My partner for most of my middle career was Charlie Calello. He produced "Eli and….." He told me many stories. His musical concept after he had a few meetings with Laura and became conversant with the material for the album was unique. He hired arrangers as the musicians and had them play anything but their instrument of choice. This gave Laura’s record a distinct unusual sound that suited her material.

When the two of them were writing string parts for one song, she turned to Charlie and asked if he could make the strings more green in the next section. He tried to have her define that better but she stuck to the green concept. I guess he "got it" cause she never mentioned it again. He once drove up to her place in Connecticut, not really knowing where it was. It was drizzling at about 5 P.M. as he pondered which way to turn at a rural crossroads. All of a sudden, out of nowhere she appeared, in a long black velvet dress, cupping a candle to guide him the rest of the way. This was waaaaay before celphones. Charlie said she was happily drenched and refused the ride he offered. There was talk she was gonna replace me in Blood Sweat & Tears but fortunately that never happened. Just David Clayton Thomas doing "And When I Die" Somehow he’s still alive, but Laura will always remain immortal.

Al Kooper

_____________________________________

It’s funny, my dad-in-law (drummer Hal Blaine) did 5th Dimension records, and to my (not really much) surprise he also played on Laura’s tune ‘Save The Country’ and had this to say about it:

"LAURA WAS ONE OF THOSE UNIQUE SINGER/SONGWRITERS WHO HAD A WAY WITH LYRICS AND I GUESS WITH HER RENDITIONS. I REMEMBER THAT AS THE HOUSE BANDLEADER FOR THE MONTEREY POP FESTIVAL WE BACKED HER ON STAGE. WE BACKED EVERYONE WHO DIDN’T HAVE A BACKUP BAND OF THEIR OWN AND WHAT A BEAUTIFUL WEEKEND THAT TURNED OUT TO BE. ABSOLUTELY HISTORICAL. I THINK I ALSO RECORDED THIS HIT WITH BARBARA STREISAND, ONE OF MY FAVORITE LADIES IN THE INDUSTRY.."

Snowy Holidays,
A.Guy Johnson

_____________________________________

My Laura Nyro by Desmond Child

I was fourteen years old. It was in Lisa Wexler’s bedroom… in Jerry Wexler’s house in Miami Beach… the Xmas of 1967… that I heard the sound of a wailing woman… Laura Nyro’s first album on Verve Folkways. Yes this was the official start of me… as a person. Suddenly I woke up or maybe the opposite is true and I sank into a deep spell that I have never come out of. Either way, because of Laura Nyro… from that moment on right up to this second… I have lived with the bottomless aching hunger to be an artist.

Laura has appeared to me in recurring dreams… as the Virgin Mary… as the healing mother I never had… the dark haired lover I always searched for in women… and men… her black rose scent drifting into every song I have ever written. Laura Nyro is the reason I moved to New York City. I just had to be here and live in her world. Laura’s songs were mythical urban landscapes. She would sing about "junk yards in the sky". These were sultry and gritty tales of seduction, dependency, addiction, ravaging transcendent aloneness and then they were suddenly about compassionate love for mankind… for all creation.

I sent Laura fan letters. In 1971 when I was 17 I drove to New York and waited for her (stalked) outside of her apartment building on Riverside Drive in the rain to try to meet her… Laura Nyro… my soul mate. Later when I was in college at NYU I hired her father, Louis Nigro, to tune my little upright Wurlitzer piano just to get news about her. I once brought her flowers back stage at Carnegie Hall and tried to talk to her because our bogus manager at the time had told us that Laura had picked my group, Desmond Child & Rouge, to open for her and the singing group Labelle on tour. (To get us to sign, this manager told us that they had been at Laura’s apartment… hanging out with her and the singing group "Labelle" for dinner and that they started singing songs from "Gonna Take A Miracle" an album they had done together a few years back and that they had decided right at that moment to recreate the album for a national tour.) Laura was gracious but didn’t know anything about it, barely remembered the manager’s name and definitely had never heard of us. I was stunned and humiliated, handed her the flowers and quickly backed out of her trailer straight to the pay phone on the corner of 57th and 7th and fired that crazy lying manager!

Then in 1994 while living in LA, after nearly a lifetime of longing for real contact with my muse and mentor, Laura finally called me and left a voice message saying she wanted to "meet me". I sat on the edge of my bed listening to the message with tears in my eyes and said to Curtis my partner of twenty years: "Wow, that call took twenty five years to happen." A few days later, Laura came over for dinner the girls from Rouge were there and we sat around the piano and sang songs from "Gonna Take A Miracle". Later that year, I ended up being her opening act at the Algonquin… and we became friends. She even made dinner (Pasta with Ragu spaghetti sauce, iceberg lettuce with Wishbone dressing. I brought four kinds of Haagen Dazs.) for me and her then teenage son Gil (Now known as urban rapper Gil-T.) in her little house perched over a pond in Danbury. Laura played me her new songs… on a little upright Wurlitzer piano just like mine.

Then one day Laura called me with the saddest voice telling me that she had been dropped by Columbia Records. She hadn’t made an album in years… she wasn’t really costing anybody anything. Laura was loyal and had given up her relationship with David Geffen to stay there. Laura didn’t care about money, she shared everything she had, she was a gentle spirit. Laura made music when it was ready to be made not because of quarterly reports. She was the ultimate "hippie chic" and after all those decades, she truly thought that the people at the "label" were her family.

I called Donnie. I called Tommy. There was nothing I could do. An era had passed.

Laura never got over this and soon became very ill with ovarian cancer and died listening to the sound of the stream running under the floor boards and looking up at the stars though the windows over her futon on the floor of her little house perched over the pond in Danbury. She was 49 years old.

Desmond Child & Rouge (Maria Vidal, Diana Grasselli and Myriam Valle) reunited after 18 years to perform one song at Laura Nyro’s memorial concert on October 27th, 1997 at the Beacon Theater. We had selected Laura’s epic "Christmas In My Soul"… then Rickie Lee Jones said she wanted to sing it. They begged us to give it up but we stuck to our guns. Rickie even asked if she could join us on stage and sing it with us. This was our first time singing in 18 years… I still said NO WAY! I knew we would have ended up being her backup group.

It was a very emotional night. I was in the dressing room still going over the complex chords one more time on the electric keyboard that was there. Maria, Diana and Myriam had gone down the stairs to the side of the stage to wait for our turn up which was only a couple more songs to go. Suddenly in the doorway of the dressing room appeared Rickie Lee Jones herself and she walked in and said "I know you didn’t want me to sing with you on stage… but can we sing it now? Just you and me". And so there I was singing and crying with Rickie Lee Jones. Rickie ended up performing Laura’s cinematic "Been On A Train" about seeing a junky OD on the subway and chillingly channeled Laura when she wailed "GOD DAMN YOU MISTER… as I dragged him out the door". Rickie’s primal scream will never ever get out of my bones. That, my friends, is music.

Well I just looked up and it’s not Xmas Eve anymore… the presents are all under the tree and I’ve been going back and forth between writing this and vacuuming up the tell-tale glitter that came off these new sparkly ribbons Curtis bought for the "Santa gifts". Our 6 year old twin sons Roman and Nyro (No, he wasn’t named after "Dylan" for a change.) are fast asleep and I’m staring out of my window in the apartment we keep here looking over Central Park where I can see the street lights shining on the snow and the paper lantern buildings lined up on the other side… shutting off one by one.

I guess Bob and I are tuned into the same station… I too can only hear Laura Nyro singing in my head…

Christmas in my soul… Christmas in my soul… joy to this world

. 

You know physical retail is on its last legs when Bruce Springsteen creates a special product for Wal-Mart.  It’s like there’s a flood and everyone has retreated to high ground.  In this case, the one location that seems able to sell physical product.  But it’s really more like a drought.  The consumer is no longer raining money.  And it’s even worse, there’s not enough food at Wal-Mart.  Bryan Adams’ album didn’t sell there.  Not everything moves in the big box store.  Not everything is moving period.

Pete Wentz is in every gossip blog known to man.  The tiny dork is now part of the Simpson family and just like with his sister-in-law Jessica, the public is losing interest.  Fall Out Boy’s "Folie A Deux" not only didn’t debut at number one, it fell into the chart at number 8, selling a whopping 110,000 fewer copies than last year’s effort.

As for Web-craziness, Soulja Boy’s album debuted at number 43, selling less than half of his previous effort, a measly 46,000 in total.  AND THIS IS CHRISTMAS WEEK!

Blame it on the economy.  Be my guest.  Bury your head in the sand.  But sales were off before it turned out the Wall Street masters of the universe were raping and pillaging our country, creating undervalued derivatives comprised of mortgages that people couldn’t pay.

Yes, they’re not going to buy CDs either, but they will still acquire music.  Digital files.  Albeit for free.

This is the end my friend.  This is the last hurrah.  And the record business does not employ enough people to warrant a government bailout.  Sure, GM has been mismanaged for even a longer period of time, but by digital standards, the record companies were exposed to the canary in the coal mine first.  But they’d listened to too many hard rock records to realize the chirping was gone, they only heard the tinnitus in their ears.

No one’s got any sympathy for the record companies.  Who are now in land grab mode, their 360 deals no different from kings hoarding the goods of peasants.  As for the acts…  Too many had lifestyles equivalent to the Wall Street players.  Consumers like supporting your music, they’re not so happy about financing your lavish lifestyle.

But musicians think they’re immune.  Very few remember the pre-Beatle days.  When stardom did not mean vast riches, diamond selling albums, private jet lifestyles. They just can’t believe they’re not entitled to wealth.  So, when record sales tanked, they just raised ticket prices, as if the public didn’t notice.  But it’s interesting, people only want to pay a lot to see the legendary, classic acts.  Or maybe the new ones once.  We’re not building any infrastructure.  We’re just throwing crap against the wall.  And now our cupboards are bare.  The audience has moved on.  They’d rather buy wiis.  They deliver more entertainment value.

Sales last week were off THIRTY THREE PERCENT from the equivalent week last year.  If you can find a silver lining in this fact, you probably believe Bernie Madoff is going to take it all back on Passover, saying he just wanted to play a practical joke on his investors.

The record companies, the publishers, they’ve made music free.  All in the name of saving it, of protecting its value.  Good work guys.  And now even your pension money is in jeopardy, you had to put those double digit millions somewhere.  You fucked it up really good.  You said people would rather listen on physical discs.  You thought music was best when it was ten tracks for almost twenty bucks.  You thought the iPod was overpriced and then demonized Apple for creating an online market to capture some digital sales money.  You deserve to lose your jobs.  Your companies should be turned over to twentysomethings who know how people truly acquire music these days.  You were building the equivalent of SUVs for years, but now the bottom has fallen out.  Because people don’t want overhyped product with very little lasting satisfaction at the center.

It’s a new day.  The future paradigm is how does one get people to listen to your tracks from the vast assembled multitude of music they pay very little for.  It’s a heyday for listeners, everything’s at their fingertips.  The labels could have monetized this acquisition, if only they’d owned up to reality.  But if you never used Napster, how could you realize how great it was?

You can’t sell CDs in defunct Circuit City stores.  You can’t sell them in the indie shops that have gone under.  Wal-Mart may move some product, but it’s taking fewer titles.  It’s like a game of musical chairs.  Sony’s happy AC/DC broke through, but nothing else has.  Time to change the game.  Time to stop running for the hills and to build a boat.  Time to realize the nineties are over.  Hell, MTV not only isn’t airing any music, its numbers are tanking and it’s banking on reality shows.  They missed the Internet too.  Stop looking at your old partners and start dealing with reality.

My favorite Christmas record is the Waitresses’ "Christmas Wrapping".  But it’s not the song I hear in my head every holiday season.  That’s Laura Nyro’s "Christmas In My Soul".

The decade from 1964-1974 represents the musical Renaissance.  There was only one Renaissance in painting.  It’s not like artists dropped their brushes and drills thereafter, it’s just that never again was there such concentrated artistic fervor, never again was art at the center of public focus to such a degree.  People have been making records for decades since the sixties, but they just don’t stick in the same way.  "Thriller" may be the second best selling record of all time, but it has none of the raw energy, it lacks the cultural impact of "Meet The Beatles".  "I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For" is a great track, but it pales in comparison to "Satisfaction". In the sixties and early seventies music drove the culture.  If you wanted to know which way the wind blew, you turned on the radio.  The radio was an Internet built solely for us, the baby boomers.  It featured not only music, but hip news too.  The deejays were not beholden to corporate masters, we felt they truly belonged to us.  If you wanted to make a statement in the fifties you wrote a book, if you had something to say in the sixties and seventies, you cut a record.  Which the audience waited in rapt attention for.  We truly believed what was contained in the grooves was the essence of life.  We needed to get closer.  To not only the Top Forty gems, but records that were the beneficiary of no airplay at all.  We had an underground railroad, passing these gems along.  They still make music today, but it’s not the same. Hell, before the Beatles no one knew you could make this much money, no one bothered to cut album length opuses, we invented it as we went along, which is why we can’t relate to Live Nation and the rest of the corporations serving product up to us.  We thought music was best presented by Bill Graham, at his vaunted Fillmores East and West.

Those were buildings that rocked no matter who appeared.  Going to the Fillmore East was like going to shul.  With its high ceiling and free program.  And light show. No one was cutting costs, no one was getting fabulously rich, the Fillmore was a shrine where you went to experience the music, in all its glory.  Not only what was successful financially, but what Bill thought we should hear.  Reading the ad in Sunday’s "New York Times" was an educational experience unto itself.  Not only blues legends, but the Grateful Dead.  They were featured right next to the stars of the day.

The first triple-header I saw at the Fillmore East was in the fall of ‘68.  Iron Butterfly was the headliner, Canned Heat opened, and if I thought really hard, I could remember who the middle act was.

But that was not the best show I saw at the Fillmore East.  That was the Who performing "Tommy" the following year.

But the most memorable shows I saw at the Fillmore featured Laura Nyro.  She played there during the holiday seasons of both ‘69 and ‘70.  One time prefaced by Jackson Browne, the other by Miles Davis.  I was there, I had to be there, I needed to be there.  Because I felt if I met Laura Nyro she’d understand me.  She’d understand all the disappointment, the rage…and the hope.

She was famous for the hits.  Performed by the Fifth Dimension and Three Dog Night.  But she was legendary for her albums.  The definitive statement being "New York Tendaberry", bookended on either side by "Eli and the Thirteenth Confession" and "Christmas and the Beads of Sweat".

Laura Nyro didn’t dance.  She wasn’t built for stardom.  But she had the talent.  Which was ultimately recognized by David Geffen.  She was his first protege.  David Geffen allowed Laura Nyro to be Laura Nyro.  We have to thank him.

Ultimately Geffen’s business head interfered with his heart.  Laura could not leave Columbia for Warner.  She couldn’t abandon those in Black Rock who’d been her team.  This is the conundrum of Geffen.  He’s the number one artist friend, but deep inside burns the heart of a businessman.  It’s about the deal, it’s about what’s right financially as opposed to emotionally.  But when the two were together, when Laura Nyro and David Geffen worked side by side, they made beautiful music.  Which was sui generis.  No one like her before, no one like her since.  You don’t get it on the first listen.  But on a late wintry night, alone in the dark, her records penetrate you, you’re converted, you never let go.

She’s gone.  Almost forgotten.  She gets tributes from Elton John, others, but her music is not topping the holiday chart in the U.K.  But those of us who lived through her career, who always believed she could deliver again, we hold a special place in our hearts for her.

Laura Nyro was unvarnished honesty.  Straight emotion.  She didn’t worry about the corporation footing the bill.  It was directly from her heart to you.

We sat upstairs at the Fillmore East.  We sent for tickets to the P.O. Box listed in the "Times".  We weren’t connected, we couldn’t get any closer.  But when the act is truly legendary, you’re thrilled just to be in the building.  Those in the rafters are often the biggest fans.

I’d bought "Christmas and the Beads Of Sweat" as soon as it had been released, less than a month before.  I played it again and again, knowing I was going to see her live.  "Christmas In My Soul" was not my favorite track then.  But it is now.

I love my country as it dies
In war and pain before my eyes
I walk the streets where disrespect has been
The sins of politics, the politics of sin
The heartlessness that darkens my soul
On Christmas

We’re all Americans.  Patriotic.  We don’t want to move.  We just want things to be better.  Because they’re not good enough.

We hire people to watch our money, our country.  Both Democrat and Republican, Christian and Jew.  We have faith they’re working in our best interest, as we pursue our own personal goals.  But while we weren’t watching, our country started sinking down the rathole.

Too many people have too much and too many don’t have enough at all.  Injustice is promulgated in the name of religion.  And we’ve got no one to turn to, no one we can trust.  We hope our new President will shepherd us through this crisis, but we feel nakedly alone.  We felt this way once before, in the sixties.  But we truly believed the artists were on our side, that they’d lead us through, they’d express our pain and show us a way out of the mess, soothing our souls along the way.  But those days are gone.  Artists are beholden to the corporation, doing it for the bucks.  Instead of performers being at the top of the pyramid, unknown gatekeepers decide what we can see or hear.  And then there are the teeming masses yelling for our attention on the Internet.  Telling us to listen to them, spamming us, telling us they’ve got the answers.  All seemingly false prophets, because does a real messiah have to market himself this way?

Facebook is bigger than any act.  Bruce Springsteen creates a special package for Wal-Mart, a corporation that locked its employees inside.  Money trumps vision, artistry.  Our whole nation shrugs and says that what sells, what makes the most money, is best.  Our values are hollow and suddenly we’re all a whole lot poorer.

Money won’t keep you warm.

But music will.

Come young braves
Come young children
Come to the book of love with me
Respect your brothers and your sisters
Come to the book of love
I know it ain’t easy
But we’re gonna look for a better day
Come young braves
Come young children

Know it’s your world.  Know that we, the baby boomers, your elders, fucked it up.  We didn’t mean to, but we couldn’t resist temptation.  Only you can save us.  It’s your time.  Make money, but don’t let it get in the way.  Know that we’re looking for honesty.  And truth.  They’re immutable.  As easy to locate and relate to as the greatness of a Laura Nyro record.

I gotta tell you a story about Bud. I was his product manager at A&M for Giant.  I was probably a few months into corporate life when I met him. I really liked him. Bud was full of life, and never minced words. He scared people with his largeness. But he also had a kind heart. A very kind heart.

Anyway, A&M spent a fortune trying to break Giant. JB did a brilliant job, but the dots just didn’t connect sales wise. Three singles deep and Bud wanted a billboard on Sunset Blvd. for the band. Bud believed with all his heart in the band and he wouldn’t let go. Truth was, and Bud knew it, A&M owned the billboard next to the A&M compound.  It would still cost, but a discount for A&M for sure.  Bud pressed. Senior management balked.  Bud yelled.  This was a matter of pride.  The billboard went up, with a photo of the band.  A large sunburst on the side read, What Would Bud Think?. That was A&M at the time.  They’d take it, but they’d give it too.

I’ve had the pleasure of working with some of the biggest managers.  Passion is no indication of intelligence, but passion with intelligence is an unbeatable combination in the record business.  Bud Prager had it and much more.

Celia Hirschman

__________________________________

Bud was a great manager and a very sweet guy.
I had the honor of managing Felix after Bud, and after Gary Kurfirst.
"Today, Bud Prager was reunited with his old buddy in heaven."
Anyone who knew Felix and how much he loved Bud would have to smile at that thought.
Thanks Bob.

Jeff

__________________________________

Bob,

Just a quick note to your subscribers who may be exposed to Rich Totoian’s name and history for the first time. He is the GREATEST living story teller in our industry rivaling Myron Cohen ( a regular on Ed Sullivan) who can dominate a room for hours and stop commerce in a restaurant when he gets started. For all the tributes to Bud who was the consummate manager, his story of Bud "meeting" former Capitol Chairman Bhaskar Menon will have your devotees peeing their pants. Get him to relate it to see the other side of Bud that no one got to see. It’s classic!

Heavy Lenny

__________________________________

I am 32, and a bit younger, but Mountain is one of my favorite bands, so I really appreciated hearing about how Felix ended up producing Cream, and who was behind the scenes making it happen. The passing of Bud is a sad thing, but the music he was behind will live forever. Thank you for writing this great blog.

LC Hendricks

__________________________________

I had the honor to work with Bud at the Fillmore East, then at Atlantic Records.  He was always top shelf and stood up for his acts like very few others.  He did love a good argument but that was part of the game. And we all came out better for it, he was a pleasure to have known and worked with.  RICH, we lost a good man.

Michael Klenfner

__________________________________

Thanks for passing that on.  I just found out yesterday from Frank
Filipetti who found out from Frank Sullivan who had no details.  Bud managed Frank’s career for many years (that torch was passed to me several years ago) and he told me that though he has had a string of somewhat famous and infamous managers that other than myself, Bud was the best manager he ever had.  I will pass this on to Frank who had no idea that he was ill.  He will appreciate this.  Happiest of holidays.

Best, Jill Dell’Abate

__________________________________

Bob,

I worked with Bud Prager in 1968 and 1969. He was in New York and I was in Toronto. We co-managed a Canadian band called Kensington Market. Felix Papalardi produced both Market albums for Warner Brothers.

I learnt a lot from Bud not the least of which was how to be a gentleman.

He was special and he will be missed.

Bernie Finkelstein

__________________________________

Too young to know of or have interacted with Bud Prager
but NOT too young to have soaked up his influences.
Damn Yankees is still one of my favorite cassettes of all time.  Of course I listen to it on my ipod these days but when it came out I wore that damned cassette out!

Dan Millen

__________________________________

Very moved by all the email on Bud-Evan-his son worked for me and Bud and I worked on several projects.  Loved that man!

Harvey Leeds