In this conclusion of a two-part interview with Clive Davis (begun
in our July issue), the founder of Arista Records and former head of CBS Records talks
about aspects--some creative, some controversial--of his wide-ranging career.
You're an interesting case. You don't come from a musical background. You're Harvard Law. How did this creative career happen ?
By accident. By necessity. I don't know, it's a talent that I've developed, and I didn't know I had it, and I didn't get into the business because of it. It seems to have worked, and it keeps working. I love it and it just keeps paying off, and it's thrilling, and so I do it. I mean, I'm not trying to be either modest or immodest in answering, I'm just trying to answer in the nice spirit that you ask it. It came out of survival and necessity. I didn't know I had it at Monterey, I didn't expect to ever sign an artist in my life. I would have preferred to operate as most-to hire a head of A&R, to make it. But my heads of A&R were signing no rock groups. We were marginally profitable. I sat there in the midst of a revolution, and was lucky enough to be there.
You seemed to really be getting off on the whole thing.
I did. My whole life changed. I went to Monterey for fun. I went there because a few friends were running the festival.
Abe Somer, an entertainment attorney who represented a lot of major artists, was on the board; Lou Adler I had a label deal with, and he was on the board. Simon and Garfunkel and The Byrds were going to perform, and I thought I would have fun. It was the first pop festival. I never thought I'd see new talent; it wasn't billed as a new-talent thing. If I hadn't been there, I don't know when I would have signed my first artist. But I knew I had to, and I was motivated to, and I did. And when it hits out of the gate that way with everything you sign, from Joplin to Blood, Sweat, Santana and what have you, it then gives you confidence to keep trusting your judgment, and then you start living it. Then you start liking it. Then you start getting, if you can, an intuitive feel for it. And that is what I, through evolution, developed.
We were talking about how you get involved in the creative process. You've certainly never been shy about talking to an artist, whether it's Horowitz or Ray Davies, about what you think they should do to change their direction and perhaps become more commercially viable. Has this usually worked out for you ? Do people resent it ?
Yes. It is the most troublesome thing to do, the most emotionally difficult thing to do. It is a double-edged sword in every case when you do get so involved. It's hard to translate this to the public. I've never been asked this type of question, and it's a great question because it really is the most troublesome part of the way I, at least, personally perform my job. To participate in the creative process . . . .
It's accepted in my particular case be cause of my track record, and it's usually not accepted for most people. And yet, even that is accepted so begrudgingly that you run a delicate line be tween being a meddler and a participant. It's a very, very, very difficult thing to get into.
You do it only when you feel it's absolutely necessary ?
Without question.
You felt it was absolutely necessary to talk to Ray Davies about a change in direction away from the concept al bums he was doing ?
Well, he solicited that, in order to see what label would be best suited for The Kinks. He wanted my ideas on that subject. He recognized that his sales had fallen way down. It's much easier when people have fallen way down from where they had been, and then they come to you. Then you're welcomed with open arms. So that when Dionne came here or when Aretha came here . . . . I'd always heard that Aretha was a terror. Her sales were not what she or anybody would have wanted at Atlantic. So when she came here, she had heard about me, and, of course, I had more than heard about her. And she wanted to work as a creative team. So it's not in those cases that it's difficult. But in the vast majority of the cases, I'm not God's gift to creativity or to my artists. You take the artist because of their talent. So the only areas I get involved in, with the true originals who write their own material, like an Alan Parsons or a Patti Smith, are whether their song is a hit or not and whether my Top 40 ears perceive any of the currently written material as a hit. So I'll come in as a friendly partner. There, it's been peaches and cream.
The problem is in the areas where an artist doesn't have a Top 40 hit, and you've got to tell them that, from what they have written, there is no Top 40 hit and therefore they've got to use out side material. Then it is war, usually. If they don't write, then they're willing to accept that, depending on your relationship.
When you get to that point with an artist, I suppose they don't really have a choice.
Oh, look, I can't tell you the battles.
Sure you can!
There are battles. And even when you've done it four or five times in a row, if they write or have written any hits in the past . . . . Well, say, Melissa Manchester. I really have been very fond of Melissa, though she's no longer on the label. But for years you see an artist going in one direction; she wanted to be a triple-threat star, and you see her as a pop star, because her talent, outside the pop area, for going into R&B, folk or jazz, is not there. So you suggest that she stay with pop. If that doesn't fit her image of where she wants to go, it's very traumatic. If she's written, as she did write, "Come in from the Rain," a beautiful song, and "Mid night Blue," a beautiful song, you sort of suggest that the hallmark of her writing points her in the pop direction. But she wanted to be Linda Ronstadt or Joni Mitchell, you know, the first white-black-jazz-rock 'n' roll star. You've got to let them carry through their dream, until you see it falling into a non-commercial area. Then you say, "There are just no hits, and if the album comes out, it's going to sell 50,000 to 75,000 copies. You must do (for example) 'Don't Cry Out Loud.' " Then she says, "I hate 'Don't Cry Out Loud'!" And you say, "But you must do it." And then you do it, and she does it. Then the next time an album comes around with all her own material, and you say, "Well, there's no hits; I gave you 'Don't Cry Out Loud.' " Well, there's resistance.
Even though you keep doing it. I understand that it's not personal. It just happens with any artist who also writes. Now, in the cases where they write well, they don't need me for any of this, and I would never presume or even think about it. They need me for a sense of marketing or career development. But in the creative area where artists don't have hits or are not writing hits for themselves, then you do intrude and it's never easy. They never like any piece of outside material you first play for them. It does become, depending on their outlook towards you, usually more difficult, always painful, never appreciated as much as you would like. It's the most painful area that I have to work on.
----- Getting involved in the creative process is the most troublesome thing to do. You run a delicate line between being a meddler and being a participant. It's very, very difficult. ----
above:
AT A 1982 CONCERT, DAVIS AND THE KINKS WITH GOLD ALBUMS OF ONE FOR THE ROAD.
AT FAR LEFT IS ABBEY KONOWITCH AND AT FAR RIGHT IS MIKE BONE, BOTH OF ARISTA.
above: JOE SMTIH, MO OSTIN, DAVIS, AND BERRY GORDY, JR AT A 1980 LUNCHEON
FOR THE MARTELL FOUNDATION
Let's talk about something totally different. Let's talk about hype. Do you feel that hype is sometimes something you just have to do for an artist?
I really have difficulty with your premise, because first of all, you take your lead from the artist. With Dylan it was very clear to both of us that there would be no interviews and no discussions. That just the announcement of a Dylan album was sufficient, and any thing different from that would be unto ward. There was never any hype for Bob Dylan. I have never shied away from trumpeting something as strong, with sensitivity to the artist involved, if I believed in it. But the word hype itself, to me, is an overstatement. I don't believe, in music, that this is like selling a movie, or that we're going to sell it to the public like a piece of product. I am very sensitive to the underlying creativity and take the lead from it. I don't believe that an advertisement, if we're talking advertising now, with just a picture of an album, in most cases, is sufficient. It's sufficient now for Springsteen, for Prince, it always was for Dylan. On the other hand, certain artists need background, like The Alan Parsons Project. Maybe you define as hype the fact that when we launched The Parsons Project, I analogized it to Ingmar Bergman and said here is the first somebody who is assembling a cast of musicians and vocalists, and is coming up with material, and is like the first director A la Bergman. To me that is not hype. It is setting the stage for an appropriate understanding of the magnitude of talent. If I believe someone's great I will trumpet that, unless it interferes with the artist's integrity. The most important thing is to be sensitive to an artist's image, and the integrity of what they're doing. I'm not saying this because it's a cliché or it sounds good, but I don't believe in being derelict. I believe that there is an art of career development.
You're a very outspoken person. Do you ever get other record-company executives angry at you for things you've said ? You will be very specific and criticize something if you feel it's not good for the industry.
I think that there is always a double edged sword with visibility. If you're very visible, and other executives are not, you can be accused of being on a personal ego trip. There's always that fallout. I, in the trade press, have stuck to issues. And yeah, there have been examples where . . . I don't take on people as personalities, or I attempt not to. There have been times over the years when people have trumpeted the dying of the record industry, the death of the record industry, the fact that music is dying. And I did rise on sever al occasions. Once, when Bill Graham was going out of the Fillmore business, he kept saying that rock is dying, or the press kept saying the Fillmore's closing and rock is dying. I took an active role in showing the diversity of music, the strength of music, and put on shows at the Ahmanson Theatre mixing and matching Miles Davis and Lou don Wainwright and The Mahavishnu Orchestra and the range of talent to disprove that. It did get personal a number of years ago, when a number of executives went on 20/20 to say that the aural record was dying, it was all going to be video, that the record business was dead. They were actually singing us out of business because it was a bad time, and it looked like video was going to take over. I couldn't believe it! That they were not only issuing statements to The New York Times to that effect, but also to 20/20, and I said it was crazy. I wrote an open letter to Joe Smith [of Warner Bros. Records], who happens to be a very dear friend of mine, saying, "Hey, this is crazy. I don't believe that it is true. I think it is hurtful to our business." I'm sure there were some misgivings there, but it was never done on a personal level. It was to tell these people not that we should hype our business, but that they were creating a band wagon idea that we have an obsolete product here, and we don't. Then I gave separate editorials saying that you can't hum a video game, and the video-game fad will be over at some point. I think that where I've chosen to make an issue of these points, the record will show, hopefully, that I've been proven correct.
But you don't have to do it. I'm sure there are other people who share your feelings who won't go out and put themselves on the line ….
Well, that's where my legal back ground, which I don't use in any of my creativity, gives me . . . . I don't fear public speaking if I'm asked to appear on the Today show or Good Morning, America or to speak on a controversial issue . . So often, and until fairly recently, record executives were pictured as finger-snapping and wild eyed. There was always the Phil Spec tor "dem, dese, and dose" types. It was an amazing picture of the record executive as compared to the Holly wood types or television types. They're all different, perhaps, in their way. But I did feel . . . . I saw my colleagues whether it be Jerry Moss [of A&M] or Mo Ostin [of Warner Bros.] or several other people--as bright, articulate, intelligent business and creative people who might, for whatever reason, not be public speakers. I mean, Mo Ostin is marvelously talented, but he is some what shy in public, and Jerry Moss is a very private person who is more comfortable not speaking. I grew up not feeling there was any awkwardness in that. So that the lot sort of fell to me. I don't think I'm a ham. I think the record industry needed defense in certain areas, and the reaction was good, and so I've done it. Not to be a martyr, not to be a hero.
People have said that the reason for your problems at Columbia was because you were so out there, so….
Visible.
That that's what created this sort of Twilight Zone batch of problems for you there.
above: DAVIS AND LOU REED
I don't think there was a negativity to me at Columbia. What happened is that there was a brand-new president [of CBS Inc.] who had only been there for six months, and we didn't even know each other. You know, I was al ways considered a candidate for that job and I never wanted to be. I was asked to be the head of their studio and other divisions there, but I am not one to move on to other tasks for the sake of a corporate ladder. I know what I like to do, and I'm gratified that I've found a career that I love. So that even though I've invested in a Broad way show, and hopefully will do one or two or a few movies over a period of years, I love the record business. I'm not the comedian yearning to be the dramatist, or setting up false challenges for myself. I had enough of a challenge coming out of the law proving that I had creative talent, and showing, after I was head of what be came the world's largest record company, that I could do it from scratch on my own, in a brand-new enterprise.
Thai's enough challenges, aside from doing well in a very competitive business. My prime interest now is to stay in a field I enjoy, and I enjoy this, so I stay in it.
When Alan Hirschfield left Columbia Pictures in the wake of the David Begelman scandals, which David McClintick wrote about in Indecent Exposure, how did that affect you at Arista ? [Columbia Pictures was the founder of, and major stockholder in, Arista Records; Hirschfield was Columbia's president and CEO.]
above: DAVIS AND RAY PARKER, JR.
Are you asking me, businesswise or personally ?
Both.
Well, Alan was a very close personal friend at that time. He believed in me and really was the main reason why Columbia Pictures financed the beginning of Arista. I was affected by it personally because he was a close friend who I felt was not treated well, and treated unfairly. I thought that he was on the right side of the issue, and that it could have been handled better by both sides. I'm not saying I agreed with everything that Alan did. But on the other hand I think that the position in Indecent Exposure was pretty accurate. And I did feel a certain sense of alienation from the board of Columbia Pictures, and I motivated, pretty much, the sale of the . . . . I was the costock holder, with Columbia Pictures, in Arista. I really felt, probably, disenchanted and alienated, and I felt those things probably a little more keenly, having gone through the trauma of corporate alienation myself.
Seeing this situation . . .
I would not be a passive observer. I came up with a purchaser of the stock of Arista, and recommended very highly to the board of Columbia Pictures that we both sell our interest in Arista to Bertelsmann [the German-based firm Bertelsmann A.G.], the company that bought 100% of the stock.
This was in . . .
In 1979, I believe. So I would say that I was affected personally.
So that the sale of Arista to Bertelsmann was in a way the direct result o Columbia Pictures falling out with Alan Hirschfield ?
To me. I mean, I could not cause Columbia Pictures to sell the stock if they didn't want to, but on the other hand I think that, as the head of the company, my recommending it as well as having expressed alienation and disenchantment over the Hirschfield issue pretty vocally, I'm sure that that was a contributing factor.
Well, both you and Hirschfield have both succeeded as well as you could possibly turn out, after your respective crises in business. [Hirschfield is now an investment banker and a consultant to the entertainment industry.] Do you feel vindicated ?
On all the legal issues I feel exonerated. You never get the press for the exoneration as for the initial furor. So it's a wound that never fully heals. It's a . . . the pain you go through you never quite make up for. But in hindsight, it did open up opportunities. The opportunity to write a book, which I never, never, never would have thought of doing. The opportunity to start a new company. The opportunity to broaden my horizons, and to really respond to the challenge of starting a new company and have it live. It recently finished its first decade. If it goes not a day further it will still be an exciting accomplishment.
above: DAVIS, PIA ZADORA, BARRY MANILOW, AND MORGAN FAIRCIED
Truthfully, though, isn't there an aspect of "living well is the best revenge" ?
I never viewed this as a personal feud. It was never a personal feud, it was a wound that occurred. There were things that were done that I was very upset about that I've written about in my book from the point of view of [Columbia Records] rewriting history. A corporation has got to show that no one man is indispensable, and that they can go on, and the stock shouldn't go down. That does have a c tendency of happening, and when you're on the other side of it, you are hurt and you fight back. But you're fighting back against an institution. I personalized it to one or two people.
So that now the wound is dealt with and recalled. On the other hand, you integrate it into your life. If you're saying now that . . . . I don't feel glad about it, no. But it had its other upside benefits that I never would have been able to experience.
But you know, there's almost a back lash. When you become the underdog, everyone's on your side again. And people must have been saying, "Boy, I bet he's just sitting there thumbing his nose at them now, because he's a success on his own."
It's funny. I'm not saying that I'm bigger or smaller than that. I'm saying that there were, apart from that incident, people who would bet against some one who was a lawyer and a president of a large record company starting his own business. There were an awful lot of people saying, "Hey, he can't do that." And yet those who knew that I was not just a president, that where an artist was signed . . I looked at 30 artists and said yes to Joplin, and yes to Blood, Sweat, or yes to Billy Joel, or bought the Pink Floyd contract before they broke, etc. . .. So much has happened since I left Columbia. When I started Arista, [ Columbia] gave me a million dollars [for mail-order rights] for the Columbia Record Club. Four or five years ago, the Martell Foundation, which is dedicated to the memory of a CBS employee's son and is the industry's main charity, honored me as their Man of the Year. The president of Columbia Records at the time, Bruce Lundvall, spoke to the company and said it was like the McCarthy witch hunt era, and that I led a lonely battle for the industry . . . and only because of my reputation and my standards and morals and integrity did I come out of it the way I did, and it was of great benefit to the industry. And it was of tremendous note that the award was not only given to me by the then-president of Columbia Records, but that it did, in effect, hopefully speak for CBS.
Because knowing that I was the honoree that night, Tom Wyman, the new president of CBS, came and was very warm to me thereafter. So that, you know, there's no war going on. It was an unfortunate coincidence of events, and I was unfortunately brought into it without foundation. It did cause trauma, and it did cause pain, and that won't ever be forgotten. But it has given me the opportunity to do other things. It has worked out great, and it has given me great satisfaction, not so much from a thumbing of my nose at anybody, really, because I don't personalize that to CBS. In fact, the first day I opened my doors at Arista, two dozen CBS executives came with flowers and drinks. And so many executives from CBS have come over at one time or another to work for me. CBS artists have gone on TV specials and honored me. So that aspect of it doesn't continue today.
Today it seems the record business is really dominated by CBS and Warner Bros. How do you, as the president of a large independent, feel about this, and the problem it obviously causes ?
Thank God you said large independent. If you had said small, I would have felt very insignificant [laughter].
Look, you have realistic dreams. You can be so large after 10 years. I feel fully able to compete with CBS and Warners. We immediately, I think two or three years after the founding of Arista, became the alternative to those two major companies for an artist to consider. Many artists that have been looked at or bid for, whether it was The Alan Parsons Project, or The Kinks, or Hall and Oates, at different stages of their careers, have chosen Arista. So I feel fully able to compete with CBS and Warners. Over this period of time we have become a so-called large independent, although almost everybody distributes through a branch today.
And we're 50% owned by RCA, who bought their interest in the company from Bertelsmann because they've established joint ventures with Bertelsmann all over the world, as a global plan. I feel that we are a legitimate alternative to CBS and Warners, and can focus the spotlight better than they can. I fully believe that over the next decade, after America starts breaking its own artists again, that we have large growth opportunities in front of us. I'd hate to be head of a large company that has to replace the volume for artists that are currently so big, once they are not quite so big. To come up with that volume and budget of 10% bigger every year.
If you were asked by someone thinking about starting an independent record company today--the way you did with Arista--or a total independent with their own resources, what advice would you give them?
I think that there are very few people who could do it. I think that if the per son has the goods to do it, I would encourage that person to do it. The goods, meaning . . . . I mean, David Geffen, with his talent, did it and could do it. So if he were thinking of doing it today, I would say do it because David Geffen has an ear for creative talent. If there is someone unknown to me who really is a budding, talented, creative entrepreneur, I would advise that person to do it. Yes, it can be done-more so today than five years ago. Properly bankrolled, not on a shoestring, yes, I do believe it can be done. Unfortunately there aren't too many people around who show the kind of talent that I would bankroll to do it. That's the problem the dearth of executive talent, which I'm surprised at. I would have thought that there'd be more budding creative entrepreneurs who could do it.
But you don't think it's a closed shop ?
I don't believe it is. No.
(Source: Audio magazine, Aug. 1985)
Also see:
The Audio Interview -- Clive Davis: Finding Songs For Singers -- part 1 (July 1985)
Inscriptions--Miles Davis on CD (Apr. 1988)
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