I discovered when we first moved to Nashville the label’s relationship with dcTalk was becoming strained. This was mainly driven by two factors. The first had to do with their new management. Dan and Darlene Brock managed the group for the first two years of their career. Then Toby (who was in the group) decided to set up a new management company called True Artists Management with two outside partners. His partners, Laurie Anderson and Dan Pitts, previously worked for Dan Brock and his wife Darlene at Brock and Associates and they also worked closely with D&K for many years.
Laurie was our booking agent at Brock in the eighties, and Dan grew up seeing D&K in concert from the time he was fourteen years old. He probably came to see us twenty-five or thirty times over the years, and we made a close bond as friends. He also promoted D&K concerts at Gordon College a few times while he was a student there. Dana and I introduced Dan Pitts to Dan Brock back in the day. So, when Toby left Brock and Associates to set his company up with people who worked so closely with us, it was only natural for that relationship to become a bit awkward. I think Dan and Darlene felt it more than I did.
The other dynamic factor in the increasing strain between dcTalk and ForeFront was, simply, their success. I’ve found that any time an artist experiences the kind of meteoric rise they were experiencing, everyone in town comes out of the woodwork, whispering. They whisper in the artist’s ear he is being taken advantage of. They suggest the artist’s career would be going much better if he or she were on their team. They plant seeds of discontent and confusion that can grow into major weeds. The result is a lot of paranoia. I think both camps were a little paranoid to a degree—dcTalk and us.
I did my best to create some basic trust between ForeFront and dcTalk. It was difficult, at first. Prior to engaging full time, I didn’t realize how charged the relationship had become. One night, while they were working on a record, I called the recording studio to speak with Toby. Their engineer answered the phone and refused to pass my call along because no one wanted to speak with me, including him. The engineer then hung up on me. I got in my car, drove to the studio, stopped the session, and fired the engineer on the spot—right in front of everybody. I informed them that as long as the label was paying for the recording session they didn’t have the right to hang up on me.
I spent the next several hours allowing each of them to vent his feelings right at me. I did a lot of listening that night. By the time it was over, we at least got the train back on the tracks and moving forward. I even re-hired the engineer.
Funny thing, he and I have become good friends over the years. In retrospect, I’m not sure how smart it was to take control that way and stop the session. It seems kind of domineering, as I look at it now. But it was the catalyst to bring all the emotions out and to get us all talking.
Over time the relationship between ForeFront and our best-selling artist, dcTalk, got much better. Their album Free At Last was a smash success. It held the number one slot on the Christian album charts for more than a year.
Audio Adrenaline was in the middle of recording their album Don’t Censor Me with producer Steve Griffith. I went to the studio one day and heard this quirky little song called “Big House.” I immediately thought it was a smash hit and took a copy back to the office to play for Dan. He thought it was a smash too, so we began to crank up the marketing machine around the song. The problem was the band had mixed emotions about even cutting the song at all.
When we suggested they call the album Big House, Mark Stuart, the lead vocalist, said, “You know, I’m thinking about dropping that song. It doesn’t really fit where we are going as a group. It’s a little cheesy and too comedic.”
After I picked Dan up off the floor, we made a compromise. “Don’t drop the song,” we insisted. “We’ll call the album something different, but don’t drop that song.”
As wild as that may sound, considering how massive that song became for Audio Adrenaline, the story is all too common. When an artist works to craft his work into something commercial it can feel strange to actually pull it off. D&K experienced the same thing with our song “Destined To Win.” Dan Brock and I wanted to name the album after that song and Dana wanted to drop it. Our compromise led to the album being called Commander Sozo and the Charge of the Light Brigade, for crying out loud.
That’s what happens, though. Sometimes the product the masses want to invest in is not the same art the artist wants to convey. That’s art meeting commerce. At that point you either learn how to compromise with integrity, or you land too far on one side or the other. The clever artist learns how to navigate those waters while remaining true to himself and crafting a product people want to spend their hard-earned money on.
Rebecca Smallbone was fourteen years old the first time we met. Her father, David Smallbone, was a well-known concert promoter in Australia. Although D&K never worked with him there, we had definitely heard of him. He fell on hard times, so he decided to move his wife and five children across the Pacific Ocean to Nashville.
The first time I saw David in Nashville was when he showed up at my front door asking about his boys possibly mowing our yard. His wife Helen and daughter Rebecca were cleaning houses and thought we might hire them as well. That was how our paths crossed at first. The whole family was doing whatever odd jobs it took to get by. David earned a lot of respect, from me and from others, during that period. I knew all about being down and out, flat broke, and respected anyone who was willing to work hard to make ends meet.
A few months later David asked me if I would be interested in coming to hear Rebecca sing at church. I didn’t even know she was a singer. I was looking for a female artist who was interested in singing to her young peers. At that point most of the popular female artists in Christian music were in their thirties and beyond. There didn’t seem to be anyone singing directly to a teenage audience, which is the market ForeFront was most focused on.
I have found that if artists can reach pre-teens and teens with their music, they will often enjoy a long career. They grow old together with their fans. I’ve often asked people to think back to the very first time they saved their own money to buy their first album. I’ve found most of us have that experience between the ages of ten and thirteen. I then ask folks if they are still fans of that artist. Most answer with a resounding “Yes!” We tend to grow up with the music we love as kids, and it always holds a special place in our hearts. That’s the way it works. Do the test on yourself.
Rebecca Smallbone, it turned out, could definitely sing. She also had a strong sense of her own creative and ministerial identity. She was talented, had something to say, and possessed poise well beyond her years. She was ready to sing for her peers. We decided she needed a more common stage name for performing. Her grandfather’s name is James so it was natural for her to take that name. We put a “St.” in front of it because it sounded statelier. Needless to say, it suited her well. Rebecca St. James was fifteen years old when we recorded her first ForeFront album.
We found the Smallbone family very refreshing to be around. David and Helen really worked hard to raise their kids in a wholesome way by limiting “worldly influence.” As a result, Rebecca was a truly innocent young lady. For example, when we decided to record a Christmas album, Rebecca and her producer, Tedd T, decided to re-make a version of The Beatles’ “Happy Christmas.” It was a big hit in Australia and she liked the song and wanted to put her personal spin on it.
Rebecca was a very focused and spiritual young woman. Every session she was part of began with a group prayer between her, the musicians, and her producer. I remember still being in the control room of Tedd’s studio when the prayer began. The custom was we held hands in a circle, then Rebecca would open the prayer, and during the prayer different people would add to her prayer as it went around the room. The lights were dim and the studio vibe was thick with lava lamps, beads hanging from the doorways, and nomadic looking musicians standing around the room holding hands.
Rebecca
immediately began to pray intently: “Lord, we are going to record ‘Happy Christmas’ today. So, I lift up John Lennon to you that you would save his soul and bring him to you. He’s been running from you for so long.”
I opened my eyes to see everyone else except Rebecca had their eyes open as well, looking around the room. I looked over at Tedd and his eyes cut left and then right. Then he looked at me like he needed direction and support.
After a period of awkward silence, Tedd T spoke up and grunted, “Hmmm, ahhhhh.” Then he said, “Uh, Rebecca, you know we all love John Lennon, but he’s been dead for over ten years now.”
Rebecca looked stunned and just said, “Really? That’s sad.” She didn’t know. Sheltered she certainly was. She did okay, though. Interestingly, later her brothers spent years experimenting with different musical styles and identities before landing on their sound. They are now called For King and Country and are bringing the Smallbone legacy to a whole new generation.
FORTY-THREE
Dare to Be Different
Way back in the summer of 1974, our “Christian Band” played a series of Saturday night concerts in the parking lot of our church in East Memphis. We set up on a flatbed semi-truck trailer and rocked. It was a busy street corner so there were a lot of people stopping to listen or walking by. It was also across the street from a major shopping area, so that helped.
We played a song or two and then different folks would get up and share their stories or some thought from the Bible. Usually the youth pastor of our church gave a closing sermon and offered folks a chance to receive Christ as their savior. It was kind of like a rock-n-roll tent revival, but without a tent. The summer nights in Memphis are warm and the humidity is thick enough to cut with a knife. Sweat poured off the band and everyone else in the audience. It was marvelous.
At one of those revivals I mentioned earlier, a thirteen or fourteen-year-old young man walked forward and dedicated his life to Jesus. His name was Pat Scholes. Twenty years later he was in charge of Ardent Christian Music in Memphis. Pat went to work at Ardent as an intern in the late seventies while D&K were recording at the studio. Over the years he had a tremendous Christian influence on the founder, John Fry, as well as our frequent co-producer John Hampton.
When Ardent decided to become active in producing Christian music, Pat came and met with me at ForeFront to see if we could help them. They formed a record business with several partners, including Dana Key. He was back in the record business after selling his stock in ForeFront.
Their first artist was a fellow named Steve Wiggins. Steve recorded an album for Sparrow Records, working with my good friend Peter York. The album didn’t meet expectations in the marketplace so Sparrow decided not to make album number two.
Pat said they wanted to re-introduce Steve under the band name “Big Tent Revival.” Spence Smith, Steve’s drummer and longtime friend, was also to be a big part of the band. Pat then played one of the group’s new songs. It was called “Two Sets of Jones’s.” I was smitten.
Over the course of the next few weeks I hammered out what is commonly known as an “imprint deal” between Ardent and ForeFront. It would be Ardent’s responsibility to sign artists and make the records. It would be ForeFront’s responsibility to market, sell, and distribute those records. It was a great way to expand ForeFront’s product line, have great artists and records to sell, and work with friends at the same time. A few years later they signed a Memphis rock band that definitely shook things up in both the Christian market and the mainstream.
Back before we made the move to Nashville, I occasionally sang and played piano at our home church, Germantown Baptist, on one of the rare Sundays when I was in town. One Sunday, after singing one of those “special music” songs at church, an elderly gentleman lumbered up slowly and asked me a question.
“Eddie,” he began, “I have a favor to ask of you. My daughter recently lost a long battle with cancer. She was married with children. Her fourteen year-old son, my grandson, is having an especially difficult time dealing with his grief. He is a big fan of your music and is into playing music himself. Would you happen to have time to visit with him? His name is John.”
“I would be more than happy to see him,” I replied. We exchanged phone numbers.
About a week later, I suited up with my jeans and my black leather motorcycle jacket and took my Harley to visit John. It sounded like he was into rock-n-roll, so I figured I would show up in rock-n-roll style. I pulled into his driveway, got off my bike, strutted to the front door, and rang the bell. A few moments later, a young man answered. I introduced myself and told him I was there to see John.
“I’m John,” he said abruptly, “but before you come in, I have one question for you.” He looked me straight in the eye and said, “Why didn’t God heal my mother? Can you tell me that?”
I was taken aback, as those were the first words out of his mouth. But very quickly I felt the Lord give me words of my own. “Who told you God didn’t heal your mom?” I asked. “She got healed. That’s for sure. You’re just not able to see it yet.”
To this very day, I’m convinced God gave me that message to deliver to John Cooper.
Over the next few years, I saw John’s band play a few times and became friends with him. When I moved to Nashville, however, I lost touch with him. One day, several years later, I received a call from my old friend Rick Miller. Rick was D&K’s first booking agent and was always an avid supporter of us. I knew that he returned to college, got his ministry degree, and was pastor of a growing church in Memphis. He told me there was a band in his church he felt had potential. He asked if he could send me some of their music to consider for ForeFront. He then said they had a bit of a peculiar name. They called themselves “Skillet.”
The music blew me away. It was a very unique and crazy blend of hard rock, blues, jazz, and classical, mixed together with singing and a whole lot of screaming. I loved it. I immediately called Rick to tell him so. He said, “Hey, do you remember a kid from your old stomping ground in Germantown named John Cooper?”
“Sure.”
“He’s the kid singing and playing bass. Skillet is his band.”
We had just signed two rock bands, Bleach and Grammatrain, to ForeFront. It was 1995 and the modern rock and grunge scenes were exploding. Dan and I met and listened to Skillet and felt we might be able to serve them better by introducing them to the Ardent folks. The band was from Memphis and needed some time to record and properly develop, and we thought Ardent could be a good home for them. If Ardent signed them, we would still be fully engaged by promoting, marketing, selling, and distributing their records.
I called Dana, who was the head of A&R for Ardent, and told him the Skillet story. I overnighted the music to him, but didn’t hear back from him for a few days. I finally called him and asked if he received the tape.
“Yes,” he said, “But I’m not sure what we can do with this. I don’t know how much I like it, actually. I don’t think it has a good chance of selling.”
Ardent was having good success with Big Tent Revival and was in dialogue to sign another roots and folky band called Smalltown Poets at the time.
“You around tomorrow?” I asked. “ ’Cause I’m driving down to see you and John Hampton.”
So, I went to Memphis the next day and pleaded my case for Dana and John to sign Skillet. I reminded them the band was from Memphis, so there would be no travel involved. The music was definitely edgy, experimental, and different from their other artists. But I had a gut feeling the talent, drive, and passion were there with this band. I thought it would work in the marketplace. Dana and John came around. So did Skillet.
I’ve been asked countless times about what I look for in a new artist or songwriter. Who gets signed? How come some get the opportunity and others don’t? To answer, I usually approach the question from a fairly pragmatic perspective. It can be a difficult question to answer, because so much of it comes down to intangibles, but I have deve
loped a guiding theory, with a corresponding set of principles, based on my experience.
For one thing, I always looked for character before talent. I really wanted to know the character of the artist, and the qualities and values they possessed, before I would sign them. Qualities like work ethic, integrity, honestly, regard for people, and trust, were absolutely essential to me. I’ve found that in this life character will carry you much farther down the road of success than talent alone ever could. Mind you, talent is very important as well, but if you can find a talented person with character, the sky is the limit. Then you’ve got something special.
When it comes to evaluating talent, I actually developed a type of graph on which I broke it down into three main categories. I have to tip my hat to Dana for helping me craft this theory. We ruminated over this issue, consuming massive quantities of Doritos and coffee for hours on end on our tour bus in the late eighties and early nineties. This is what we came up with.
There are three main types of talent in musical artists. The first is songwriting ability. The second is virtuosity, or how well you play an instrument or sing. The third is charisma. In the mainstream they call it “sex appeal.”
If an artist has an overwhelming amount of talent in any one of those three areas, it can carry a career.
For example, Bob Dylan could be an example of that in the songwriting category. He has so much talent writing songs, it doesn’t matter how well he sings them or the amount of charisma he displays. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t move the needle in the other two categories, because he clearly does. It’s just he has an overwhelming amount of talent as a songwriter. Other examples of that kind of talent could be artists like Aimee Mann and Willie Nelson.
Celine Dion is a good example of an artist in the virtuosity category. She sings so well no one pays much attention to whether she writes songs, or even if she’s particularly charismatic. That doesn’t mean she can’t write or doesn’t have charisma, but when she hits those big high notes in full voice, nobody cares much about anything else. Artists like Phil Keaggy, Al Green, Kelly Clarkson, Bela Fleck, Josh Grobin, Yo Yo Ma, and others are more highly regarded for their virtuosity than the other categories.
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