“The Biggest Bluff: How I Learned to Pay Attention, Master Myself, and Win”

If you play poker, you must own this book. If not…there are a lot of psychological lessons which you’ll find interesting, although they tend to interrupt the narrative of the book. Also, if you don’t play poker, or are a newbie, at the end there is a glossary that will help you out, not that you need to know everything to understand the story.

So you’ve got a Ph.D. psychologist, Maria Konnikova, whose family is down on its luck, who decides to learn and play poker in order to write a book. She reaches out to Erik Seidel, a majordomo in the poker world, and he mentors her and…

She wins money.

Proving that all you amateur poker players out there have something to learn. I’d like to tell you about Konnikova’s victories, but I don’t want to ruin the book. Suffice to say there are the math whizzes, but they don’t necessarily win.

Konnikova focuses on poker, Texas Hold’em, because it’s the closest representation of regular life you can find. In chess, you can see everything, whereas in life, you never can. And in Texas Hold’em, the sky’s the limit, you can bet as much as you want, begging the question…are you sure about that? Come on, you’re spewing facts all day long, but if someone came along and said they’d bet 100k on it, would you be so convinced?

So the first lesson Seidel gives is…

“Less certainty. More inquiry.”

He says this over and over again. That the game, the world, runs on information, and you want to gather as much as you can before you make a decision.

This was my father’s mantra…ASK QUESTIONS!

Most of us, males especially, are worried about image, how we’ll look. That’s another thing covered in this book, if you’re worried about others’ perception, if they’ll laugh at you, chide you, you’re already a loser. That’s one of the reasons Jason Flom is so successful, he’ll ask anybody anything, he doesn’t always profess to know, while so many elite players are afraid to say this, to their detriment.

So there are lessons about fakers, and bullies.

Konnikova is playing at the Golden Nugget, or maybe it’s Planet Hollywood, and a guy says he’s a newbie and knows nothing. A sham, he ends up taking everybody’s money. Welcome to the real world, where you may not see this person ever again, where the factual rules aren’t broken but the emotional ones are, but there’s no court for emotional transgressions.

Seidel insists Konnikova start online. And when she ultimately goes to Vegas, to play in the secondary market. The big swinging dicks play at the Aria, you want to be prepared, not that everybody at the table at the Aria is. You see, they’re distracted. Checking their phone, missing minor, yet critical, information.

The tells.

Konnikova says there are none. She thinks she can read people, but she finds out she’s completely wrong, not to trust her instincts. She ultimately goes to the experts, scientists who’ve studied the game, and learns that the only tell is in people’s hands! In other words, you’re confident you know what a person is thinking based on their attire, their head movements, but you’re totally wrong.

As for paying attention 24/7, it’s the little things that pay dividends down the road. You see how someone acted previously, even if you weren’t in on every hand.

And don’t play every hand. Sure, there are some who are legendary aggressors who win, but most don’t. You’ve got to choose your moment.

And beware of bullies. This truly resonated with me, especially in Hollywood. There are gonna be people who put you down and have you questioning yourself, that’s their game, you put your tail between your legs and fold. You’ve got to be strong in your opinion, you’ve got to stand your ground, the bullies are not going to like it, but it’s the only way you’re going to win.

And if you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the fire.

The first time Konnikova is in the World Series, she ends up catatonic in the bathroom. This is what those who’ve never competed at an elite level don’t know. That skill is one thing, being able to demonstrate it when it counts, keeping yourself steady and together, is oh-so-hard.

But the biggest lesson is…

Konnikova has an incredible hand. But after going all in, she’s loses to someone who has the only cards that could beat her. And Konnikova goes to the Aria, to tell Seidel her story, and he immediately holds up his hand and says…I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!

Don’t we live for our stories, how we got unjustifiably screwed? But the truth is there’s always chance, there are no guarantees, sometimes you’re gonna give it your best effort, based on the best information available, and you’re still gonna lose. The key is not to dwell on that, but to continue to march forward, keep your equilibrium and soldier on. That’s so difficult. To keep an even keel. To not focus on the losses. But you need to acquire this skill to survive not only in poker, but in life. You lose your job…happens to everyone. Just start looking for another one!

Here are some quotes:

“I’ve let them get to me. I didn’t want to be pushed around – but I wasn’t comfortable doing the pushing around, either. And the result is this mess of a hand. I’m hopeless at this game. And apparently, I’m hopeless at life. A gutless female who wants to be liked more than she wants to win. Maybe I don’t want to go to Vegas, after all. Maybe the WSOP (World Series of Poker) is better off without me.”

You can only win if you want to, if you’re willing to do what it takes, go on offense. You cannot win in life playing defense all the time, no way. And in a man’s world, you cannot win by being demure and avoiding confrontation, you’ve got to have a backbone, stand up for what you believe in, what’s right. Furthermore, the cascade of negatives can truly put you in a frame of mind where you can never win.

Oh yeah, one of the worst things that can happen is you win early, thinking it was your skill as opposed to your luck. So many times early winners fade away, because they didn’t focus on the development of the skills they need to survive.

“And you learn best when you’re playing every day.”

That’s how I got to be a great skier, going each and every day, whether it was raining, snowing or ten below zero. Forget the 10,000 hours I needed to achieve that skill, it’s the 1% that makes all the difference. So when you’re in a tight situation, you survive. Like skiing in France on a cat track in the shade, with no one in sight, and coming around a corner and finding sheer ice interspersed with dirt and rocks. To the right, a wall, to the left, a drop-off, and I’m going so fast there’s no way I could stop, so…I just let the skis run, even though this put me in a situation where I was out of control…I just kept my cool and figured somewhere down the line the terrain would change and I could save myself, and I did.

It’s about the fine edge, that’s what makes the difference between a winner and a loser. Oh sure, a weekend warrior can ride the tram at Big Sky, and maybe even survive on the double blacks. But if things go wrong… But if you’ve skied every day, you can recover from a mistake.

And if you’re not passionate about the pursuit to begin with…GIVE UP, or make peace with the fact you’re an amateur.

“In an age of constant distraction and never-ending connectivity, we may be so busy we miss the signals that tell us to swerve before we’re in the bad beat’s path.”

I’m into my iPhone, I love the digital age, but if you’re not focused on what’s important, you’re gonna lose. No distractions during the game, antenna wide open, receiving signals. Furthermore, most people don’t want to get in this zone, because they still might lose, they’d rather laugh and consider themselves an amateur, saying they could win if they wanted to, when the truth is they can’t.

“But here’s where something of the Dunning-Kruger effect creeps in. Yes, that one. The one that shows that the less competent you are in an area, the more likely you are to overestimate your degree of competence. That the less you know about a topic, the more you think you know – as long as you know just enough to start feeling a bit fluent in its vocabulary.”

This happens to me all the time, people confront me with their truth when I know it’s false. I used to correct them, now I never do, because they can’t handle it, they usually just double-down on the falsehood.

Life is like an onion, you keep peeling back the layers. The winners get all the way to the nub, the losers peel back the first skin and think they know everything. Never take the first source as gospel. Keep questioning. It drives my compatriots mad, if it’s important to me I’ll research and ask the same damn questions over and over again, to see if I get the same response, I want to find out how sure the person is in their conviction.

“First dates are about dazzle. You play each hand, even when you’d rather fold and crawl back home admitting defeat.”

First, you must take the risk, if you do not play, you cannot win, but you will never win every time, be prepared for rejection. And when you’re trying to make a good impression, you can’t lay back, the opposite of poker. You’ve got to be aggressive, lay it all out there, even if you’re wincing inside, unsure if you’re winning or losing.

“You can’t control what will happen, so it makes no sense to try to guess at it. Chance is just chance: it is neither good nor bad nor personal.”

In other words, you can give it your best and still lose. And you’ve just got to accept this and move on.

I’d love to tell you “The Biggest Bluff” is an easy read. But the narrative is interrupted by the psychology, as if Konnikova was proving to her publisher she was delivering on her pitch. I found the narrative more interesting than the lessons. More story, less insight. But just when you get bogged down in the lessons, Konnikova goes back to the narrative.

You can make millions in poker, but don’t expect any respect:

“And he (Dan Harrington) tells me that those views may never change, no matter what I do. He recalls the moment he told his mother he won the World Series of Poker. ‘Well, what do you think, Mom? I won a million dollars. I’m world champion of poker!’ he remembers telling her. And she replies, ‘Oh, that’s great Danny. You know we have a cousin Pádraig Harrington. He’s a golfer, and he just won eighty thousand dollars in the Spanish Open.’ Dan persists. ‘Mom, I won a million dollars. I’m world champion.’ And she has one answer. ‘Listen, Danny, he’s doing well on the European tour.'”

I’ve got no patience for poker. Cards are not my thing. But having read this book I’m certainly convinced that winning is no accident, that it takes skill.

And if you truly want to fix your problems, go into therapy. But for some insight into how the world works, there’s no better instruction manual than this book.

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Tune in tomorrow, July 21st, to Volume 106, 7 PM East, 4 PM West.

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Emitt Rhodes – Spotify playlist

1

He was too good too soon in an era when giants walked the earth.

Today it’s de rigueur to cut your album alone at home, you just fire up your computer and…

There were no computers back then. It was an analog world. You used tape. And studio time was expensive. And when the revolution the Beatles started began, you couldn’t even touch the recording console, that was reserved for union engineers.

As time went by acts gained power, as a result of the massive profits they threw off. Music made more money than films, it built the Warner cable system, which is why record company executives were so handsomely compensated. Not that Dick Parsons remembered this when he blew out the labels at the advent of this century, with Napster and other file-trading services putting a huge dent in recorded music revenue. Then again, by this time, Mo and Lenny were gone. Joe Smith too. And Krasnow. Time Warner controlled the records, but those who made them, with their blood sweat and tears, had no control over the distribution and use of their work, never mind getting paid for it. Supposedly this is why Emitt Rhodes gave up, over business issues. Don’t underestimate that, look at the members of Badfinger who committed suicide for the same reason, think of all that coin that should have rained down to Pete Ham and Tom Evans for “Without You,” it was a smash twice, once with Harry Nilsson and then later with Mariah Carey, it’s a standard, not that anyone remembers, if they ever knew, that it was written by these members of Badfinger.

So, in today’s market-driven world, no one takes the long view. Warner Music just went public for a huge multiple of what Time Warner offloaded it for. It’s all about stock price and bonus, and those who create the work are seen as fungible.

But they’re not.

So, not only was it rare back in 1970 to have someone who could both play and record, but to add in the ability to play all the instruments too, that was unfathomable, unless you were Paul McCartney, who released his first solo LP the previous spring. Another strike against Emitt Rhodes was his voice sounded similar to Sir Paul’s. Such that he was pooh-poohed. Furthermore, the album came out on a lame label, ABC/Dunhill, when that made a difference. Emitt Rhodes was not taken seriously, except by those who listened.

2

It’s almost fifty years since I started college. That’s a long time ago. I had no time for those who’d entered in 1920, why should today’s students have time for me, in 2020?

They don’t. Only in 1970, there was a generation gap, the old were seen as such, and they accepted it. Today boomers are friends with their progeny and still think they’re hip, when the truth is there’s a growing generation gap today, based on technology and income inequality.

So, if you went to college in the seventies in Middlebury, Vermont…

There was no FM radio, except for the lame college station, and if you’d grown up in the New York market, with WOR-FM and then WNEW-FM and WABC-FM, it was unlistenable. The students at my college were not hip. 45% of them went to prep school, the rest were grinds. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t. But by time I realized this, if I transferred I’d have had to go to college for a fifth year, and that was never gonna happen. So, if you wanted to know what was going on in the music world, you had to subscribe to the magazines, “Rolling Stone,” “Fusion,” “Crawdaddy”… And I did. I read them cover to cover. And the knowledge gained has paid more dividends than anything I learned in class.

So, when I went on vacation, I’d go to New York and buy seven or eight albums, the ones I’d read about, and then bring them back to college to listen and dissect them. And I was serious about it, I never bought a clunker, you didn’t have to if you were informed. Same deal with watching a streaming show today, do the research and you will be rewarded. And coming back from spring vacation in April 1971 the three albums I remember buying were…

Emerson, Lake and Palmer’s debut.

James Taylor’s “Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon.”

And “Emitt Rhodes.”

I did buy “Tarkus,” but then I gave up on ELP, Greg Lake had a phenomenal voice, and Keith Emerson was a virtuoso and Carl Palmer was no slouch, but they lacked great material.

“Mud Slide Slim” was only hobbled by following “Sweet Baby James.” This is the album with the hit “You’ve Got a Friend,” but more importantly it contains “You Can Close Your Eyes,” “Riding on a Railroad” and “Machine Gun Kelly,” the first of which is a classic, and the next two are as good as anything as James has ever done.

And then came the Emitt Rhodes LP.

3

A.

Well I’m down with my face on the floor
Yes I got what I asked for and more
Well the moment she stepped through that door
I was down with my face on the floor

It’s all about the first track, if that doesn’t grab you it’s a bad sign. But as soon as you dropped the needle on Emitt Rhodes’s solo debut you were immediately along for the ride, the theme park attendant pushed back the safety bar and the roller coaster took off like a shot.

Well now she’s gone away
Just took time to say ‘I’ll drop you a line’ (drop you a line)
Well now she’s gone away
Just took time to say, ‘I’ll see you sometime’

Sure the lyrics are simple, but they’re so right, you’re infatuated, you connect and then she leaves.

But what makes “With My Face on the Floor” so magical is the simplicity, that piano hook, and Emitt Rhodes’s mellifluous voice. If this exact same LP was dropped today there’d be hosannas, because we’ve completely lost this formula, used to be to compete you had to have a great voice, you had to write your own songs, and if you didn’t…you didn’t make it, unless maybe like Dylan you were the best lyricist ever, or Jeff Beck…then again, as great as Beck is, the best, his entire career has been a search for material equal to his ability to play his guitar.

B.

Somewhere someone special just for me
Somewhere someone special must be

Maybe you don’t remember your teens, your twenties, the agony of loneliness, the dream of meeting your soul mate, back when you still thought that was possible.

I’ve been searching all my life
Guess I’ve looked most everywhere
Many girls have caught my eye
But that special one’s not there

A bridge? This is not rocket science, but the formula seems to have been lost. A melodious song, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge. But today no one can do it. Not that everybody back then did it as well as Emitt Rhodes.

And “Somebody Made for Me” was guitar-based rather than featuring the piano of “With My Face on the Floor,” it was slower and groovier, illustrating the chops of this cat, but for some reason the tastemakers just couldn’t come down off the mountaintop to anoint him.

C.

It’s been a long time I remember you well
It’s been a long time no see where you been keeping yourself

“Long Time No See” sounds like it would fit nicely on the White Album. It’s not made for the radio, it’s made for headphones in your bedroom, it’s not a ditty like what’s come before, it’s more of an album track, a mood-setter.

D.

Tears that angels cry
And they darken all the sky
When the one you love says goodbye

With just Emitt and his guitar, “Lullabye” does sound like McCartney, but it’s not an imitation, and it’s so heartfelt. This is what the listening experience used to be, before music was seen as background, grease for the party, the dance, gaming… “Lullabye” was made just for you, to make you feel human, part of something, to know someone else is on your wavelength, our musical heroes were not brands, they were artists, who did their best to reflect life back at us, so we could understand it.

E.

Well if you come from heaven
You know that that’s okay
Just as long as you’re here to help me
It doesn’t matter how long you stay

Talking ’bout you, baby
Don’t you know you’re fresh as a daisy, fresh as a daisy

“Fresh as a Daisy” has a magical bridge too, this and “With My Face on the Floor” are the cuts that floated above the detritus, that got a bit of radio airplay, or so they tell me, I never heard Emitt Rhodes on the radio.

F.

You must live till you die
You must fight to survive
You must live till you die
You must feel to be alive
You must live till you die

The funny thing is so many of Rhodes’s songs evidenced optimism, when he was notably depressed. Then again, when you’re young and depressed you believe a change of scenery will fix everything, if you meet the right person, it’s all situational, you have hope and then…when your dreams don’t come true…you hide in your house and watch television and watch the rest of the world go by.

4

A.

In retrospect, Emitt’s debut is a masterpiece.

But this was in an era of “Elton John” and “Tumbleweed Connection,” “Stephen Stills” and “Sticky Fingers,” never mind “Exile on Main Street.” What did Joni Mitchell sing, “You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone”?

But Rhodes had made inroads. His fans had hope. Not that we connected. For years people have talked to me about Emitt’s music, but I had to come to Los Angeles, get into the music business to find them. We could not connect on social media, we just listened and hoped there were like-minded people out there.

B.

You don’t have to be alone to feel alone
You can have someone and still feel alone

It was a year later, Emitt released a second LP, “Mirror.” I was no longer residing in Hepburn Hall with an assigned roommate, now I got to choose my living companion, who was not alienated by my music, which I could play every night as we fell asleep, never mind during the day.

And there’s a strong possibility
That we might often fail to see the better side of life

Ain’t that the truth. But this juxtaposition of alienation and optimism…there’s Emitt’s hope once again…and one thing is for sure, it bonded listeners to him, they embraced every word.

C.

Every time I feel this way I pick up my guitar
And sing a song of faraway lands, ego and facade
I often feel like sailing but I always miss the boat
And every time I feel this way I pick up my guitar

The closest analogue is James Taylor’s “Me and my Guitar,” from “Walking Man,” but that was released three years later, in 1974!

D.

When I needed someone
Tell me who came along
I was hoping you’d come
‘Cause I really wanted you
Yes I really wanted you

“Really Wanted You,” the second side opener of “Mirror,” is in the league of “With My Face on the Floor” and “Fresh as a Daisy,” stone cold smashes. Then again, AM radio no longer played this sound, unless it came from McCartney himself, and FM wanted something heavier, something darker, Emitt Rhodes resided in no-man’s land.

E.

And now comes the piece-de-resistance.

It’s funny how all these love songs resonated so much when I was getting no love. Oh, I had crushes, but Middlebury was like a giant high school, relationships were rare, I had to move to L.A. to get a chance, but still… What ended earlier was still prominent in my heart, funny how these high school relationships resonate for so long.

Love will stone you, but you’ll come down

Ain’t that the truth!

5

A.

There was a third solo LP in ’73, “Farewell to Paradise.” I got it from the Record Club of America, but it was laden with surface noise, I returned it. No one was talking about Emitt Rhodes anymore, no one was listening to him, few outlets even stocked the LP, it was more of a rumor than a release.

And then…

Nothing.

I mean absolutely nothing. Which is strange, unless you get sick or die, this rarely happens.

But word was he was living in the South Bay, you could research Emitt once the web arrived, and fans coalesced.

And these fans rallied around Emitt’s earlier work, with the Merry-Go-Round. Emitt had not emerged fully-formed, he’d paid his dues, still, the tastemakers of the seventies did not care. But there was a low rumbling online, very low…

And then came…

RAINBOW ENDS!

There’s always a comeback album, and it’s always disappointing, you’ve got to square your memories with the present. Usually the playing is cool, but the songs suck. And either the material sounds completely different from what came before, or it’s a pale imitation of the originals.

But not “Rainbow Ends.”

“Rainbow Ends” is my favorite album of the last five years. I don’t know another record like it. The oldsters are still dealing with teenage subjects, but Emitt’s singing from an adult perspective, and it’s so soul-fulfilling!

B.

‘You ain’t no good,’ I hear her say
Under her breath as she turns away
‘I’ll take the car, I’ll take the house
I’ll take the kids and then I’ll turn you out’

Ever been divorced? You usually lose EVERYTHING!

This is not the Emitt of the seventies. First and foremost he no longer sounds like McCartney, his voice is deeper, maybe if he’d had this sound back in the seventies…nah.

And unlike “Emitt Rhodes,” “Dog on a Chain” does not start on a tear. It’s confessional, quiet, just Emitt and guitar, but then, fully forty five seconds into the song, the band comes in, lays down a groove and…

She berates me, calls me crazy
Certifiably insane
Once she praised me, now she hates me
I can’t see how I have changed

BINGO!

You’re the same person, but suddenly you’re the ENEMY! Nothing you do is right. That seventies optimism, it’s been eviscerated, Emitt’s testifying, world-wearily, but the groove eliminates any trace of self-pity.

C.

Whenever I’m worried and I’m feelin’ alone
When problems are many and I’m all alone
When all the world’s troubles are too much to bear
Well that’s when I break down and I wish you were here

WHEW! It’s so hard to go from two to one.

I’m still trying to please you even though you’re not here
Still talking to you even though you can’t hear
And the more I deny it the more that it’s true
There’s hardly a moment I’m not thinkin’ of you

The funny thing is it works both ways. The leaver and the leavee have these same thoughts. The person is in your life every day, and then suddenly they’re gone, we’re just animals at heart, but with brains, this separation is intolerable.

D.

When you tell someone you care a lot
Prepare yourself for a broken heart
You think you’re so strong, think you’re so brave
You’ll feel so small, be so afraid
Whoa, whoa

Can you risk it, tell them how you feel?

I must admit I’ve thought about it for eons, but I usually can’t take action, fearing the rejection.

You like her so much it makes you sick
And you just can’t make no sense of it

Adult crushes are even worse than high school ones. At least in high school you see them on a regular basis, you’ve got a chance of interaction, to get your dreams fulfilled. But when you’re home alone in your apartment…

Whoa.

E.

Before you say I’m really very special
Then run to another’s arms

If they really felt that way about you, they would stay with you.

6

I wanna be somewhere far away
Somewhere where I won’t be afraid
I wanna be sheltered safe and warm
I wanna be somewhere far from harm

Emitt’s finally achieved his goal. Last night he died.

I could recite his personal history, what I’ve gleaned from the web, but I never met the man, even when he was coming back he shrank from the publicity. He canceled appearances, his record spoke for him.

And his recordings speak for him now. And forevermore.

And the funny thing is those who are remembered frequently weren’t made for these times. Like Nick Drake. Others who fought their demons but had to die to be accepted.

Forget writing camps. Just give wannabe songmeisters an Emitt Rhodes LP, there’s more instruction there than you’ll find in a room of umpteen writers with credits today.

I want to to be loved no matter what
Not just for now, ’til bad is gone
I want to be someone’s only one
Not just for now, ’til better comes

Isn’t that what we’re all looking for, love and acceptance?

You can be in a relationship, even married, and have neither.

Then you can have both for a while…but then it’s over.

And life goes on and the wounds have healed and you don’t want to risk being cut again, you want to stay out of danger, in your own small universe. The world has beaten you down, you give up.

But ain’t that America, where no one comes to your rescue until you die. Where being rich and famous is everything, when the truth is if you’ve got one person you can call a friend, who gets you, who is there for you, you’re wealthier than most of the people on the cover of the magazines, featured in the gossip columns.

Ultimately, Emitt Rhodes’s story is a sad one. Could it have gone another way? If he were on Columbia or Warner Brothers, if he got good mental health treatment? I don’t know. But I do know this world is made up of alienated people, who look to music to connect, make their lives whole, and Emitt Rhodes gets an A+ on that score. His music means a lot to me. I don’t need to convince you. I wish I could have convinced him. But it’s too late.

The older you get, the less you know, the more questions you’ve got.

Why does life work out for some, but not others? Why do some gain success, and not others? Why do some have happy relationships and they elude others completely? How can it be your genius hides in plain sight, unseen by the masses?

Emitt Rhodes is at the end of the rainbow now. Up in the clouds. His dreams are over, that’s all she wrote. His eyes are closed, but if you listen to his music yours will open. And see the human condition in a world where everybody professes to be a winner, where everybody wants to deny their feelings.

But not Emitt Rhodes.

I’m a student of the game. I’m less interested in the achievements of the stars than how they got there.

David Foster is an opportunist, in this movie he says so.

Funny, I didn’t see any hype for this documentary, but my inbox started to fill up with people asking if I’d seen it, what my opinion on it was, so I decided to dive in.

One thing you’ve got to know about David Foster, he’s insane.

I don’t mean certifiable. But those on the bleeding edge are not regular people, there’s something different about them, and when you interact with them you can tell. Foster’s brain moves a mile a minute, and he’s confident in his opinions. He’s always a mile or two or ten down the road, you’re discussing the present, and he’s already living in the future.

Fosters don’t work for the Fortune 500. They would never fit in. If you want to work for the man, the number one criterion is the ability to get along, to be a member of the group, to be part of the team, whereas with creative people it’s all about the “I.” Sure, other people aid in your success, in the field, in the studio, but then there are people like Todd Rundgren, fully capable of creating the tracks all by himself – writing, singing, playing, producing and engineering, and ending up with hits. And Todd isn’t the easiest going guy either. You see to make it as a musician, to be a star, you’ve got to be an egomaniac. You’ve got to think you can push people out of the way on your rise to the top. And in Foster’s era, in the big studio era, when there were hired gun musicians, the inner circle was made up of only a handful of players. Well, maybe two handfuls. But all those records you heard on the radio, by all those different acts? Oftentimes it was the same damn players. Meaning it was very hard to break into that circle. It took chops, perseverance and relationships. The music business is all about relationships. Doesn’t matter how good you are, if you don’t know anybody, you won’t get ahead.

So…

Foster is a prodigy. Most of these people are. With perfect pitch. With skills far beyond those in their neighborhood, even in their state. But that doesn’t mean they succeed in the music business. Anybody can get on the radio, anybody can get on TV, you enjoy it the first time but you soon set your sights higher, you want to be on EVERYBODY’S radio, EVERYBODY’S TV, you want to be part of the firmament, you want to SUSTAIN!

And you can come from nowhere.

But you’ve got to go somewhere.

Foster leaves British Columbia to go to London with his band. They don’t succeed. Everyone leaves but him. That’s a hard job, keeping the band together. Read the “Washington Post” article on Midland:

The Return of Cheatin’ Songs

Scott Borchetta is reluctant to sign bands, BECAUSE THEY BREAK UP! And if you sift through the leaves you’ll find that almost everyone in Hollywood started off in a band that broke up, there are just a few survivors, who need it.

And Foster doesn’t like New York. Greatest city in the world, but not for him. He feels claustrophobic. When Foster came up, the music business was centered in L.A., it’s centered in L.A. once again, if you want to make it you should come here, you don’t absolutely need to come here, but you want to make it easy on yourself. Living in L.A. is easy. It’s a giant suburb, if you can’t afford the rent you just move further out, you battle traffic, but that’s the only element that’s not on your side, there’s no issue of weather, it’s easier to survive.

So, Foster hangs out in London for a year, the loneliest one of his life, and then comes back to Canada. I know, I know, today you’ve got all these instant successes. But the truth is those who last paid tons of dues before you knew their names, with more failures than successes, until things finally clicked.

So Foster leads the “Rocky Horror Show” band, the musical played at the Roxy forever, and he works the relationships.

He’s at a session with Barbra Streisand and she’s not feeling it and calls for a break, but he sits at the piano, playing, knowing she’s listening in the control room, leading to one of his big breaks.

You’ve got to see the holes and take advantage of them. You’ve got to be pushy without appearing pushy, at least until you’ve succeeded, and then you can alternately be pushy or the friendliest person in the room, after all, you’ve got nothing left to prove.

But Foster always has something left to prove. So, he’s in the studio 24/7, year after year.

The star of this movie is Katharine McPhee, the “American Idol” runner-up who has sustained a career. She and David are now married, and she won’t let him skate. Foster says he’s a runner, he admits it. Foster delineates so many of his flaws in this pic, which undercuts the hagiography, especially when they cut to Celine Dion and Michael Buble. This was a guy who wanted it and once he got there believed in himself and wouldn’t let go, he didn’t compromise, the making of the Chicago records is the highlight of the musical interludes. Band separates from Columbia, they’re down on their luck, and then Irving hooks them up with Foster who promptly says their material sucks, gets them to write new stuff, along with himself, he also plays on the record, and the end result…GIGANTIC HITS! Peter Cetera sides with Foster and leaves the band and the guys in Chicago have never recovered from the whole experience. Foster changed their sound, there were not horns, they can’t get over it. Foster understands, but also says he rejuvenated their career and they’ve been touring on those hits he produced for decades since. A producer can be a chameleon, the act is loath to change its identity, it’s all they’ve got, if they fail, it’s toodles, whereas the producer can always get a new gig.

So, he’s married five times. When it gets bad, he moves on. Leaving carnage in his wake. Some of this trauma kids never get over, even if they claim otherwise down the line, I’m always stunned when constantly touring musicians have a passel of kids, they hardly see them, and oftentimes they break up with their mother and…

McPhee has Foster’s number. She talks about flying all over the world, to hang with Foster’s rich and famous friends, but then says they’ve got no clue who he really is. BINGO!

You get in this rarefied air and… There’s just no reality. Everybody’s being so fabulous, with a mask on, being fake, that you can’t connect. But you’ve worked so hard to earn this, to be part of the inner circle, and you don’t want to admit it’s phony, because then you must question your entire journey.

McPhee insists David discuss, argue, at length, reveal his feelings, she wants to get down to the real nitty-gritty. Something no prior woman has been able to do, never mind a man. Yes, you can have all the success in the world, but that does not make you happy, not on a sustained basis. It’s good to be #1, but that never lasts.

And we’ve got blowhards like Clive Davis polishing their resume, trying to ensure he lasts when he never will, all these acts saying the tracks they’ve done with Foster will last forever when they won’t either. Because the kind of stuff Foster does lacks an edge. The greatest stuff comes from explorers, willing to do something different. Oh, of course we need journeymen, fix-it people, but to become a legend…

Foster wants to be a legend. He can’t avoid the spotlight. He admits that his reality show appearances were bad decisions, jokes, but when you work behind the board all those years, you hunger for the spotlight, you’ve got the money and the credits, but not the fame, the acts have all the fame, even if they are now broke.

But Foster can’t give up. He says he’s retired yet he works all the time. Because he needs to be in the game, trying to ascend the ladder, which brings us to Broadway.

Why the Great White Way bookends this documentary I’ve got no idea. Since Foster has not had any success there, just a desire to triumph. But he does admit Broadway is a collaborative effort, when Foster is a dictator. Foster knows what’s right, he’s trying to achieve it, you don’t want to get in his way, you just want to say yes.

But is he George Martin, the Beatles, Quincy Jones? No. Because his big hit with Whitney Houston was not written by her and her identity was so all over the place that it’s hard to square the singer with the song.

Not that I’m trying to tear down hits. But Whitney Houston is a creature of publicity. She’s only lasted this long because she died. She had a big hit movie, some hits in the MTV era, so what? We’re looking for something a bit more titillating, with a bit more of the aforementioned edge. Same deal with Celine Dion. Yes, Foster recognized a star, but all she is is a voice. Who appeals to Middle America. But the British Invasion happened, the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper” and what came before became irrelevant. The Great American Songbook? Rod Stewart sang it, and it almost killed his career, his true fans had no interest.

So, there are two music businesses. One feeding the hoi polloi, casual fans, and another feeding the diehards, whose lives were saved by rock and roll and hip-hop, who see the singer not as an entertainer, but a vessel of God, someone who can channel truth, whose every word they hang on. The Beatles fostered the latter. Clive Davis fostered the former. The Beatles need no publicity, Clive cannot keep tooting his horn, you don’t need to do this when you’ve truly got it.

And Foster has it.

You see when you have big success, people notice, and they call, and want to use you. And as long as you continue to succeed, you can write your own ticket. It’s a hard business to get into, and a hard business to stay in, so you try to surf the wave as long as you can. And Foster’s had a very long ride, almost longer than anybody from his era. It’s just that…he’s making pop music, and pop music is inherently disposable. Which is maybe why he wants to go to Broadway, where he can prove he’s more than a studio rat, convince the naysayers in New York, when the truth is who cares what those arbiters of culture have to say anyway, isn’t that why we live in Southern California?

I’m judging Foster on an absolute scale. Because the documentary portrays him as a titan and that’s the world Foster considers himself a player in.

David Foster took a band on life support, on a new label, the Tubes, and gave them success…and broke up the band in the process, they didn’t see themselves as that act.

He made two stiff albums with Hall & Oates before that, and once the duo jettisoned Foster and produced themselves they instantly emerged with gigantic hits, like “You Make My Dreams” and “Kiss on My List.”

If you know who you are, you don’t want Foster.

But if you don’t… Foster can come along and deliver.

So who is the real David Foster?

Despite all the self-denigration evidenced in this documentary, I’m still not sure. What does he need? Hits, acclaim, money?

Well, if I think about it, what David Foster truly wants is love. He got it from his supportive mother, and he’s been looking for it from everybody else forever since. So he’s a weird amalgamation of compromise and a complete desire to not compromise, knowing that compromise never leads to success, you’ve got to follow your heart, only you know what will work. Talk to any creative person with great success, they’ll tell you they know when they achieve greatness, and they know when they don’t. It’s hard, but they have to rely on themselves. And Foster, as a producer, is inherently compromising when in truth he wants to be singular, and can’t hold himself back.

Foster’s not the only one. There’s the case of Mutt Lange, who essentially makes the albums himself. Without him? AC/DC never had a gargantuan hit, and neither did Def Leppard, all their legendary work was done with Mutt.

Foster’s a man out of time. He would have been a giant in Gordon Jenkins’s era. Where the song was everything, and it was a matter of bringing that song to life and getting it down on wax.

But that’s not the era we live in today. Whitney Houston, Celine Dion, Barbra Streisand, they’re all people out of time. Their vocal talents carry them through, but once again, what we want is something more singular, true artists, who speak from the heart, more John Lennon than Olivia Newton-John.

Not that I think Foster will be happy I said all this, he’d rather get adulation, but the truth is he needs to be pushed. He’s got the desire, but all the acolytes are sycophants. Foster’s still got it in him, he loves a challenge, he’ll dedicate all his time and effort into it.

Maybe it’s Broadway.

Or maybe it’s a concept album.

Or maybe it’s even a partnership with someone on his level, who will challenge him. Someone like Van Morrison, even though that’ll never happen. Could Foster push Van to create chart-topping, everlasting material? I think so, Van just needs that little push himself, but Morrison has been so abused he doesn’t want to invite anyone into his party.

Kind of like Quincy Jones and Michael Jackson. They both brought different things to the table. And butting heads they came up with something transcendent.

Today’s Foster is Max Martin. Although the Swede is fine living in the background. But like Foster, Martin has sustained success, when everybody else has not, usually producers have their era and then they’re over, can you say “Roy Thomas Baker”?

All this came to mind watching the Foster documentary. The first half is very interesting, how he got from there to here and what he left in his wake. And at the end there’s more of this too. And Foster is wide open, he’s himself, and you cannot help but watch and admire his success, which he earned, nearly completely by himself. Sure, there were business people aligned, but they’re a dime a dozen, Foster was responsible for the creative elements, the most elusive, they’re a challenge.

So, I don’t think the final chapter of David Foster’s life has been written yet, he just needs a bigger challenge. Molding singers into hitmakers? He’s been there and done that, which is why he’s reluctant to do it again. But if Bob Dylan can still carry on…

Foster is no Dylan, but Foster knows what Dylan does not, and vice versa.

Now there’s a pairing.

Most of these superstars just want yes-men or women. But they are the ones who can truly use Foster’s skills. Foster needs to play with people of his caliber. He’s found Katharine McPhee, but now he needs someone in the studio, any takers?