Heatwave were an extremely important and influential band in the UK disco/funk scene. It was Paul Kinder who brought the band to GTO Records and they were a fantastic signing. Formed in Germany by ex-American serviceman Johnnie Wilder Jr, they moved to the UK where Johnnie teamed up with Cleethorpes-born Rod Temperton. Dick signed them in 1976 and put them into the studio to be produced by Barry Blue – real name Barry Green (not much of a change!). Barry had a hit as a singer in 1973 with ‘Dancin’ on a Saturday Night’, but was more comfortable behind a sound desk than in a TV studio. Barry produced a string of hits for Heatwave but much of the band’s success was due to Rod’s writing and their dynamic stage act. Johnnie Wilder was an incredible performer and always brought the audience to their dancing feet. His performance was almost acrobatic. His career took a different turn after a tragic car accident left him paralysed from the neck down. A true musician, although no longer a dancer, he carried on for many years and became a successful gospel artist. He died in his sleep in 2006.
The band had already suffered a dramatic loss when guitarist Jesse Whitten was killed in a stabbing incident in 1978 and the band’s Swiss bass player Mario Mantese was also stabbed after a party at Elton John’s house. He was left in a coma and became blind, paralysed and mute but miraculously recovered his health and has gone on to write about his near-death experiences. Even by the standards of rock’n’roll, Heatwave certainly had more than their fair share of tragedy, but they left a great legacy with their music. Rod Temperton, of course, went on to be a major songwriter – most famously writing ‘Thriller’ for Michael Jackson.
GTO Records had thirty-seven hit singles and fifteen hit albums in the four years before we sold the company to CBS (now Sony Records) in 1978. Dick Asher, the American head of CBS UK, had asked me a few times if GTO Records was for sale. Although we had an important roster of artists, Dick’s main reason for wanting to buy GTO Records was a desire for Dick Leahy to run CBS in the UK. I really wanted to make the sale because in my opinion the price bandied around very much reflected the anticipation of Dick’s services as head of CBS. For me it was an easy ‘Yes’ but as part of the deal Dick would be obliged to enter into a long-term service agreement to run GTO as part of the CBS group, in the hope that he would soon take over the running of CBS UK. Once again, I did not pressure Dick into selling. He knew of CBS’s interest and I just bided my time, whilst reminding Dick that a big cheque was only a phone call away.
One memorable day, when Dick and I were in LA, we were invited to a pool party at a large Norma Desmond-style mansion that was for sale on – where else? – Sunset Boulevard. I was shown around and it was really incredible. A hallway that looked as big as the Albert Hall, and countless rooms. The standout memory was the huge ballroom. At one end there was a wall, which at the touch of a secret switch opened to reveal a speak-easy-type room where, in the days of prohibition, there would have been a bar stocked with illicit booze. A door in this room opened to a blocked-off tunnel which led to the neighbouring estate. Apparently there was a network of these tunnels between all of the estates on Sunset which guests could use to escape from any police raid.
It was a typical LA party, scattered with tall, tanned California blonds both male and female. There was a bar next to the pool, dispensing chilled white wine and champagne. As we lounged – or frolicked may be a better word – in the pool, by anyone’s standards, it was better than being in Dagenham, Dick’s home town.
Dick, his face in the sun, said, ‘I could get used to this, Laurence.’
‘It’s a phone call away,’ I reminded him.
‘Make the call.’
And so I did. A few weeks later, Dick, Tony Russell and I were ensconced in a large suite at a Park Lane hotel, along with Dick Asher, his business affairs team and a secretary. It was a Laurence Myers-style meeting with everyone agreeing not to leave until the deal was done. Proceedings started at about 10 a.m. Negotiations went smoothly but by one o’clock there was still one huge sticking point, which was something to do with Heatwave. I cannot remember exactly what it was but Dick Asher said that it was a deal-breaker. Some two hours later, Dick Asher conceded and the deal was finally completed on our terms, and here is why …
It was a Friday, which is most important to my story. As with many of us, the person Dick was most fearful of upsetting was his wife. Dick’s wife Sheila was quite a formidable character, and Dick had mentioned to me that he had to catch an early-evening flight to be back in New York so that he could attend Sheila’s nephew’s bar mitzvah the next day. When we reached the impasse, I declined to order lunch and said that I needed to speak with Dick Leahy and Tony about it privately. We retired to our room where I told Dick and Tony that we should talk about football or anything else to kill some time. After about an hour, the CBS lawyer put his head round the door and asked if we were making progress. ‘Sadly not,’ I replied. Half an hour later we went back in and I told Dick Asher that regretfully, we could not agree. Asher, desperate not to miss his plane, threw up his hands and conceded the point. The secretary deleted the contentious clause and we all signed off on the paperwork. Asher dashed off to get his plane and we all ordered room service on CBS’s room charge.
Part of the deal obliged Dick Leahy to work for CBS as head of GTO, but there was no legal obligation for Dick to take over the running of CBS UK. And, in spite of Dick Asher’s entreaties, Dick did not move over to CBS. He was not being difficult but, having had an inside taste of the politics in a big record company, he did not want to be part of it.
After Dick left CBS he went into the publishing business with Bryan Morrison, signing George Michael as a songwriter. This was in the eighties. I was not doing well and considering setting up a new company with my ex-employee David Mintz. Wham! did not have a manager and I asked Dick to arrange a meeting with them to pitch for the job. Dick sent Andrew Ridgeley to meet us. Without George Michael, I knew it was just an empty gesture, but nevertheless I appreciated the respect that he showed me in setting up the meeting. When Wham! stopped and George went on to have his brilliant solo career, Dick virtually managed him for some years. As I mentioned earlier when writing about Freddy Bienstock, he asked me to help with negotiations for a new administrator of George’s catalogue, which was very flattering. Dick was a brilliant partner for me. He used to call me when I was on holiday to tell me that all was going well and there was nothing to worry about. He has retired to Spain and I wish him well.
A word about singers who are precious about their voice. Lots of singers will not record in the morning because their vocal chords have yet to wake up. Others insist on days off on tour to rest their voice. In 1987 the phenomenal Tom Jones made a record from me called ‘A Boy From Nowhere’. It went to UK No. 2, his highest entry for seventeen years. Tom was doing a UK tour when the song started racing up the charts. The tour was so tight that there seemed to be no gap for Tom to record the desperately needed promotional video. Without any fuss, Tom walked off stage after his Manchester gig, went straight to the studio and recorded the song to camera in a couple of takes at about two o’clock in the morning. The next day he performed on stage at his next scheduled date. You can see Tom perform the song on YouTube, and you should. I believe that he is the greatest male singer the UK has ever produced and on ‘A Boy From Nowhere’ he is at his balladic best.
The song, produced by Mike Leander, was written by Mike and Eddie Seago for a stage musical called Matador, which I later produced on the West End stage, casting the young John Barrowman in the title role. John sang the song beautifully on stage, but he is the first to admit that Tom’s version was hard to follow. Mike stuck with his old friend and writing partner, Eddie, to write the lyrics for Matador. Eddie had never written for theatre, his lyrics were poor and I begged Mike to drop him and let me bring in the highly acclaimed theatre lyricist Don Black, but, ever loyal, Mike would not. The reviews of the show were unkind, some particularly critical of Eddie’s lyrics and I believe that the show might h
ave had real success had Don been brought in.
Show business – everything about it is appealing.
31. GEM RECORDS – MY SWAN SONG IN THE RECORD BUSINESS
In 1979, after the sale of GTO Records to CBS, I was approached by Bob Summer – the worldwide head of RCA Records – to start a new record company to be distributed by RCA. He had once offered me the job of head of RCA UK but I had declined on the basis that it did not pay particularly well, so obviously he thought well of me. I decided to use the Gem name for the new company because it had been so lucky for me as a production company recording Bowie, Glitter and others.
I made a three-year deal under which RCA would – unusually – provide us with our overhead expenses budget as well as a generous budget for recording artists. Under my Gem deal with Bell Records I got paid a sum of money on delivery of each record. After recording costs there was little left over for overheads and the deal only worked for me because we started having hits from day one. I managed to negotiate the great deal based on my theory that record company executives were mainly concerned about the impact of a bad deal during their own tenure. With that in mind, I offered RCA an interest in the Gem artists for ten years after the deal ended, thus enabling Bob to carry forward any loss by RCA to a time when it was reasonable to assume that he would be long gone. It was a risky deal for RCA because – with the overheads covered – there was no pressure to make profits to survive. They quite reasonably insisted that they approved any artist that we signed, and I was contractually bound to fly to New York on a regular basis to present artists to Bob for his approval. Such was the profligacy of the business at that time, I got him to agree that RCA would pay for me to fly over on Concorde, the new supersonic jet service run by BA. The fares were exorbitant, but it only took three and a half hours to New York and with the five-hour time difference, you actually arrived before you left.
At the time I had David Simone working for me as an in-house lawyer. He had been introduced to me by my brother-in-law Larry Levene. He was twenty-six years old, and was very much into the music business. He had been social secretary at his university, booking big bands. I appointed David as head of the new Gem Records. David put together a good team. He brought back ex-GTO Records employee Edward Christie as head of A&R; Clifford Gee was head of marketing; Golly Gallagher was head of promotions. Although Gem did not do well, all of these guys were talented and went on to have success within the industry. When I knew that Gem was coming to an end I encouraged David take a job as head of business affairs at Arista, where he was soon moved up to be MD. He was then head of Phonogram before moving to be chairman of MCA. He went to the USA to start UNI Records for MCA, then joined Geffen Records where he was head of A&R. He is currently a very successful manager living and working in New York and remains a close friend.
Edward Christie started Abstract Records, an independent record label dealing with the heaviest of heavy metal bands and Abstract Distribution in the States. Both companies did extremely well. He sold his interests in 2017. He lives in London with his wife Yvonne – also a clever person – who, through her glamour model agency, started the Sun’s Page 3 girls in 1970.
After leaving Gem, Golly did very well as an independent record plugger until he was exposed on TV for hyping records up the charts by buying multiple copies of singles. He bought from independent record retailers who reported their sales to the compilers of the singles charts. He would give the singles back to the shop owner or manager, who could then resell them and keep the cash.
Gem Records’ biggest hit single was ‘Born To Be Alive’ by Spanish/French artist Patrick Hernandez, which made UK No. 10. We picked it up for the UK at Marsha’s insistence after she and I heard it being played at Whisky À Gogo at Midem in Cannes. Claude Pellerin, a Frenchman who owned the record world, had cleverly arranged to have it played in the club, in the hope that it would help him sell it internationally – and it worked. David and Edward were not excited to put the record out as it was a Gary Glitter soundalike. Musical tastes were diversifying and moving away from the domination of wide-appeal artists that had given me success in the past. David and Edward were quite rightly looking to have Gem perceived as a record company for the future and when I insisted that we released ‘Born To Be Alive’, they considered it a step backwards. When it started rapidly climbing up the charts, they forgave me. A Top 10 record is something to be proud of, but I had been so spoiled by the many No. 1s of so many previous records, that I, personally, could not get too excited.
I secured the right to release the soundtrack of The Wanderers – a GTO film crammed with great sixties hits. It made the album charts. After the Gem deal, I licensed it to third parties and it was a consistent seller for another twenty years or so, eventually recouping the loss I made on the film.
Looking to the future, David and Edward were impressed by Trevor Horn, a multi-instrumentalist/producer whom they signed with his band Garbo. Garbo was not a success for us, but they were right about Trevor. He called his next band The Buggles and had an instant No. 1 with ‘Video Killed the Radio Star’ through Island Records. Trevor also masterminded the promo video for the song, which was the first clip to be played on MTV. He went on to be one of the most important producers of the eighties.
Again, moving away from my comfort zone, we signed Samson, a stereotypically shock-rock heavy metal band put together by Paul Samson. The band’s drummer, Thunderstick, wore an evil-looking leather mask over his face and played in a cage on stage. The lead singer was Bruce Dickinson, widely acclaimed as a great artist in heavy metal. We made an album called Head On with Samson. It briefly made the charts but was not a big seller. The band were fighting with their management, always a problem for the caught-in-the-middle record company. In all honesty our promotion department’s DNA was more mainstream pop, so we did not really know how to help them. We were contacted by Sanctuary Records, a successful company that had signed top heavy metal band Iron Maiden and desperately wanted Bruce Dickinson to take over in the band as lead singer. As a condition of releasing Bruce, David sold the Gem album to Sanctuary for more than its cost: a brilliant deal.
Gem had a couple of other minor hits but the most successful signing was the UK Subs, a punk band signed to Gem by Edward. I commissioned quirky director Julien Temple, young and up-and-coming – to make a short film about them to release as support to the main feature that my GTO Films then had on general release. The film Punk Can Take It was a very clever parody of wartime newsreel, portraying the punk movement as under attack from conventional society. John Snagg, a still recognisable voice of wartime news reporting, did the stylised commentary. Julien is now a respected maker of off-beat movies, and he directed Habaneros, a brilliant documentary on Cuba. It being a small world, the film was produced by Richard Conway, the son of great friends of ours.
UK Subs were important to Gem Records, giving us half a dozen Top 50 hits, but I had no sense of connection to them or to their music. As I have frequently mentioned before, I had a passion for songwriters. Whilst none of my writers could, or even tried to, compete with the lyrics of Cole Porter or Johnny Mercer, they wrote clever lyrics, contemporary to the day. The UK Subs’ songs had lyrics like: ‘Tomorrow’s girl is pissing in your ear.’ I rest my case. It was a UK Subs gig that decided me that it was time to go. Marsha had already opted out of the role of Manager’s Dutiful Wife. In ten years of tirelessly supporting me in my work, she had developed her own career as a very successful antique dealer and was tired of schlepping to gigs. A couple of months earlier, we had gone to see Heatwave perform a sold-out concert at what was then the Hammersmith Odeon (currently the Eventim Apollo). The band’s charismatic front-man Johnnie Wilder Jr – arms up, stabbing the air, was chanting ‘Ooh, ooh,’ to the driving beat of Rod Temperton’s ‘Boogie Nights’. I was up there ‘Ooh-oohing’ with the best of them. The packed audience leapt to their feet to join in – except one person. I looked down and there was Marsha, sitting unmoved.
&
nbsp; I indicated with my head that she should jump up and join in the fun.
Nothing.
More ‘ooh-ooing’ and emphatic head-messaging from me for Marsha to jump up and have an ‘ooh, ooh’. Still nothing.
On stage, Johnny worked up a sweat. The audience worked up a sweat too, particularly ripe when outstretched arms exposed sweaty armpits. As the song ended, Marsha used her head to indicate that I was to sit down next to her, which I did. She leaned over and whispered in my ear. ‘Enough with the ooh-oohing. Next time take me to see Streisand.’
Then it was my time to opt out. The Subs were playing a sold-out gig at a regular punk venue and, having never seen them perform, I decided to go and enjoy their success. Picture, if you can, a seedy venue in a seedy part of north London. An audience of punks are there, many with spiky mohican hair, their pierced faces, ears (and no doubt other parts unseen) decorated with metal skulls, chains and other ornamentation that is mysterious to me. Charlie Harper, the UK Subs’ charismatic leader, is on stage sneering ‘Stranglehold’ – one of their hits – to his adoring fans.
At Charlie’s feet, in the mosh pit, more punks are body-slamming each other as they pogo up and down. They show their further appreciation by spraying family-size globules of spit over the band, making pretty rainbow effects in the stage lighting. I, a rictus smile on my face, am trying to pretend that I am enjoying the show. Next to me is an unsmiling punk, his punk lady-friend next to him, his doppelganger apart from her metal-studded leather-clad boobs. Some of the audience are ‘weekend punks’, their mohicans artfully slicked back for their day job in a bank, but these two are the real thing.
Hunky Dory (Who Knew) Page 24