I Wrote That One, Too . . .

by Steve Dorff

  Chris called me one evening and asked me to look specifically at a scene at the end of the script that called for a poignant love song for George to sing to Harley Tucker, the female star of the movie. Nothing they had found yet really fit that moment perfectly, and it was a high priority song that he needed to find ASAP.

  So he asked the $64,000 question:

  “Steve, do you have anything that you’ve written that might work there?”

  I smiled. It was as if I had been waiting for someone to ask me that question for the last eight years.

  The next day, I went to Warners, sat down at the piano, and played “I Cross My Heart.”

  Chris called Jerry Weintraub and Gary Lemel and asked them to come over to the soundstage to hear the song he thought was the perfect choice for the film’s pivotal love song. Within an hour, I was playing the song for the film’s bigwigs, and they all felt like it was the song they had been waiting for. They asked me to record a demo. Jeffrey Steele, who is an amazing songwriter in his own right and a fabulous singer, was nice enough to agree to sing the demo for me. And, as he always does, he nailed it.

  Chris and I then flew to Nashville to play the song for George and Tony. We first played the demo for Tony at his office at MCA records. George hadn’t arrived from Texas yet and Tony was eager to hear the song. Tony listened to the first verse and chorus and stopped the tape. He was concerned that this song was not “right” for George. There were lots of internal and unusual chord progressions and voicings, an odd key change, and a very different-sounding bridge that all added up, in his mind, to a song that sounded more like a Lee Greenwood record than a George Strait record. After all, Eric Kaz and I had originally conceived and demoed it as an R&B-style song with pop changes. Even though Jeff’s demo was designed to soften the pop influences, the song was still the song.

  Despite Tony’s reservations, somehow the country music gods were looking down on us, and when George arrived, he agreed to give the song a go. He immediately owned it with his unmistakable voice and impeccable performance, and Tony, to his credit, made a great record.

  The song stayed at #1 for three weeks, and the soundtrack sold over eight million copies: a major milestone for country music from a film.

  Unfortunately for Kaz and me, due to strict Motion Picture Academy rules, Bette’s recording from some eight years earlier kept us from being considered for an Oscar nomination, which I think we would have easily gotten with that song.

  Four million BMI performances later, CMT honored the song by naming it the ninth greatest country love song ever written. The lesson is: don’t ever give up on a song you truly believe in.

  Sorry, Mom, apparently it was one of my best.

  It’s not often that you’re blessed with the kind of working relationship I had with Gary Lemel. Gary was a true music person, a lover of great songs, and a wonderful singer in his own right. Above all else, though, he was a straight shooter and a great executive who had the respect and love from everyone who was lucky enough to get to work with him. Thank you, Gary, for including me in so many fantastic projects!

  24

  End Zone Suicide

  Talk about being at the right place at the right time.

  Once again I got a phone call from Gary Lemel at the Warner Bros. lot. He asked me if I could come over late that afternoon and sit in on a screening of a new film starring Bruce Willis, Damon Wayans, and Halle Berry; directed by Tony Scott; and produced by Joel Silver.

  It was a private screening for Hank Williams Jr., who had been asked to come in and write the main title song for the picture. Gary wanted me to produce the track on Hank Jr. It certainly sounded like it was going to be a fun star-studded project to work on.

  I met Gary at his office and together we walked over to the screening room to meet Joel, who was arguably one of the hottest movie producers on the planet. A few other Warners execs were also invited, and after a few minutes of small talk we all sat down to watch the film. There was one small problem: Hank Jr. was late.

  We waited for about twenty minutes, and then Hank and his wife finally came in and apologized for the delay. Joel explained a few things about the movie, which was set fictionally in the pro-football world. Hank Jr. had been riding high with his ABC Monday Night Football theme, which was on TV every week, so he was the obvious choice to write the song for this movie.

  So everybody thought.

  The lights dimmed, and the opening action sequence began with a hard-hitting game in progress during a torrential rainstorm. The way it was shot took you right into the scene as if you were one of the players in the game. It was exciting to watch and, as a longtime football fan, I was immediately hooked.

  As one of the plays unfolds, a running back takes a handoff and begins to break away for a long touchdown run. Just as a defensive back from the other team is about to make a tackle, the running back pulls out a gun from under his jersey and starts to shoot the opposing players. As the player scores, he kneels down, pulls off his helmet, and proceeds to blow his own brains out . . . blackout.

  It was a riveting opening action sequence that had me sitting on the edge of my seat for sure.

  All of a sudden, a rather loud voice yells out, “Turn on the lights, stop the film!”

  It was Hank Jr.

  Gary and I looked at each other, bewildered. What in the world was going on?

  Hank had a big problem with the opening scene and proceeded to tell Joel Silver that because of his affiliation with the NFL, there was no way he was going to be involved in a movie that portrayed pro football in this disgraceful and disgusting manner. He was deeply offended, and he and his wife then left rather abruptly.

  We were all quite a bit stunned, and Joel Silver was pretty upset. There were several choice expletives being thrown around the room for a few minutes before Joel, chomping on a cigar and fuming, turned to Gary and said, “Now what in the fuck do we do?” He then looked at me, seemingly for the first time, and barked, “Who in the fuck is he?”

  Joel clearly thought I was with Hank Jr. and wanted me out of there. This was becoming a bit of a scary nightmare scenario in itself.

  I sunk further into my seat. All I really wanted was to watch the rest of the movie. I was hooked and curious to see where it was going.

  Gary explained to Joel that I was the studio’s choice to produce the track for the film as I had done for several of Warners pictures, including the Clint Eastwood films.

  Joel relaxed a bit, puffed on his cigar and once again said, “Okay, what in the fuck are we going to do for this song we need yesterday?”

  I perked up. Writing songs “due yesterday” was my specialty.

  “Let’s have Steve write it,” Gary blurted out.

  Excited for the opportunity, I dived in and suggested that we could go in a much more pop direction than Hank Jr. would have done.

  Joel quickly warmed to that idea.

  “Who are you thinking?” he asked.

  Without hesitation I mentioned a few different artists who immediately came to mind, including the Righteous Brothers.

  “I love the Righteous Brothers,” Joel said. “Can you get them?”

  I could.

  Gary and I walked back to his office and called Bill Medley straight away. Bill got back to me later that evening and I told him the entire story. He and Bobby were taking some time off from each other, but he said he would love to do it as Bill Medley.

  “When do we need to record it?” he asked.

  “Yesterday,” I told him.

  “Okay, well then, send me the song.”

  “Ummm, It’s kinda not written yet.” I replied. “But it hopefully will be tomorrow, because we have to record it yesterday.”

  As soon as I hung up with Bill, I called John Bettis and told him the entire story. The next morning, John emailed me the start of a lyric called �
��Friday Night’s a Great Night for Football.” As usual, John nailed it. We got together later that day to finish the song up. I called Gary, who called Joel, and they agreed after reading the lyric and hearing me tell them how I would approach the recording that there was no time for a demo.

  “Let’s just get in there and do it ASAP,” was Joel’s mandate.

  They were already scheduled to shoot an elaborate and extremely expensive video sequence, with Bill singing the song over the main title credits, to be shown immediately following the opening football sequence.

  It’s rare to have the kind of trusted relationship I had with both Gary and Doug Frank, who would later take over for Gary when he retired. Both of these guys were so incredibly supportive of me through the years, with so many important projects.

  I considered them good friends as well as respected executives, and I loved working with both of them. We booked the session at Conway two days later, which offered just barely enough time for me to put it together. Miraculously, the band came together quickly thanks to Patti Zimmitti, who was contracting for me at the time. J.R. on drums, Neil Stubenhaus on bass, Dean Parks on guitar, and Randy Kerber and Pat Coil on keys. The incredible Mick Guzauski agreed to engineer the tracking date.

  Because there was no demo, Bill learned the song on the spot. By the end of the session, he had it down and sang the doors off of it. I had Larry Herbstritt do a great horn chart and we overdubbed brass and backing vocals by the Waters and mixed the next day.

  Everybody was thrilled with the end result, and the opening video sequence with Bill came out so great that Tony Scott ended up using it again over the end credits. It was a crazy, intense schedule, but the end result was fantastic.

  I asked Gary if he could possibly give me just a little more time on the next one.

  25

  Everyone Should Have a Larry

  Larry Herbstritt had come to California with his partner to make it big.

  He was an unknown songwriter from Coudersport, Pennsylvania, who had convinced someone in Snuff Garrett’s operation to give him a meeting. Since I was the new guy, about two months into my new digs, I got the appointment.

  Larry played me a few songs. I loved the music but wasn’t crazy about the lyrics. I suggested to Larry that he and I possibly write a few songs together. This guy had talent, and when I tried to put my finger on what I responded to the most in his work, the answer surprised me: Larry and I were incredibly similar in our musical styles.

  Like attracts like.

  Larry’s songs were crafted in a structure that was a lot like mine: really cool, classically based chord changes. As we got to know each other over a period of several weeks of meetings, it was also apparent that we had a great deal in common in addition to music. Our upbringings were similar, and we had the same taste in films. The only major flaw was our conflicting baseball loyalties. I was a diehard Yankee fan and he was a Pittsburgh Pirates fan. But I still liked him.

  Despite our similarities, we had very different personalities. Larry is a pretty soft-spoken guy who doesn’t say too much when you first meet him.

  I am not.

  It wasn’t long before we started writing some songs together, along with a lyricist I was working with at the time, Gary Harju. Soon, we had a great run of songs that were being recorded by the likes of Cher, Dionne Warwick, Merrilee Rush, Johnny Mathis, and countless others. Together, Larry and I wrote “I Just Fall in Love Again,” which won the Juno Award for Song of the Year for Anne Murray.

  We were so musically in sync: I’d have an idea for a verse or chorus musically and he’d massage it . . . or vice versa. We did “Fire in the Morning” for Melissa Manchester, “Cowboys and Clowns” for Ronnie Milsap, and “If I Had You” for Karen Carpenter.

  It was a prolific partnership.

  Beyond the songwriting, Larry Herbstritt would become a most trusted friend, and a collaborator on many television and film projects over the years. When I started to get busy in scoring for television and film and really needed help with orchestrating, cowriting cues, and conducting the sessions, I turned to Larry. Larry and I had that unexplainable “musical shorthand connection” that is pretty rare and hard to find. He knew my musical style and changes as well as I did, and he was a huge contributor to my successes.

  Larry was such a brilliant musical mind, I often farmed out a bunch of my arranging to him . . . we had a musical trust and we talked in a way no one else understood. I could tell him exactly what I was hearing and he knew how to do it. He could interpret my musical thoughts and needs.

  It was as if he saw the plasmic bubbles as well.

  With Larry, it was a different kind of collaboration than with my other partners. If I had a great chorus idea and was too busy or lazy to write whole thing, I would tell him to “come up with a verse”—and he would. Later, that translated into scoring. When I got busy doing television, I’d have Larry write cues based on themes. He was my principle orchestrator on both Murder She Wrote and Columbo. I would sketch stuff, play some piano parts, and tell him to expand, giving him a shared writing credit. We co-composed all of the episodes of Spenser: For Hire together.

  Everyone should have a Larry—someone they implicitly trust. Because I was so busy and didn’t feel like I had the time to do it all, I had the luxury of working with a partner who knew my style and exactly how I did things.

  Having a Larry is also perfect when you get those unexpected calls out of the blue.

  One such call was from Switzerland from the then manager of Greg Lake, of the world famous Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Greg had somehow heard a song of mine that had previously been a country hit for Barbara Fairchild, and later a single release in England for Dusty Springfield. Greg loved the song, was in preproduction for his solo album, and was headed to Los Angeles to record. His manager wanted to know if I would be interested in working with Greg, doing some arrangements for him and conducting the sessions.

  It was a no-brainer.

  For weeks, Greg and I would meet at the house he had leased up in the Hollywood Hills. Our sessions would last for hours while we went over songs, keys, and mockups of the arrangements, drinking so much tea that I would pee every ten minutes. Larry would often accompany me to do takedowns for some of the arrangements. It was all he could do to keep from peeing in his car one day, from all the tea he consumed.

  The best part about this album is that there seemed to be absolutely no budget. We spent so much time demoing, re-demoing, recording, and rerecording than I could have done four albums in the same amount of time.

  Suffice to say, Greg was an absolute perfectionist, and he knew exactly what he wanted. One of his ideas was to record the old Diana Ross and the Supremes hit “You Keep Me Hangin’ On.” We worked up a fabulous arrangement, and I was anxious to finally get the real recording started. Unfortunately, I came down with a horrendous stomach flu the week before we were scheduled to record. Greg had to return to England and wanted to do a session on Memorial Day. I told him that the union scale for the musicians would be double or triple “Golden Time” wages for that holiday.

  He told me to go ahead and book the band.

  I still wasn’t feeling great as the flu seemed to be lingering in my body, but I was excited for the session. The band was spectacular: Chris Squire from Yes on bass; Jeff Porcaro, David Paich, and Steve Lukather from Toto; and, because Greg liked serving tea to Larry Herbstritt so much, we had Larry on acoustic guitar.

  We must have recorded the song fifteen or twenty times, each time better than the take before, when I fell off the conductor’s podium and passed out.

  I woke up at St. Joseph’s hospital in Burbank, where I was being treated for severe dehydration from the lingering flu. Larry was by my side.

  Greg’s version of “Let Me Love You Once” ended up being a solo single that went Top 20; to my knowledge, after some thirty takes with one o
f the best rock bands ever assembled, “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” was never released.

  Larry and I would also travel together to London, where I was writing the score to Hugh Wilson’s film Rustler’s Rhapsody. My British music editor informed me two hours before we were getting on the plane that three of the major film sequences had been massively re-edited the day before, and since these hundreds of bars of fully orchestrated music had already been written, Larry and I spent almost the entire ten-hour plane ride cutting and pasting these massive scores together, trying to salvage as much of the music as possible. Of course, this was back before computer editing—and, needless to say, it was a nightmare of a job.

  My poor music copyist in London, a sweet man named Vic Frazier, had bags under his eyes for days after having to make all of the noted changes we had given him upon arrival at our London hotel. Of course, Vic had bags under his eyes to begin with when we first met him, so that became a great source of comic relief for Larry and me over the years.

  What’s also interesting about Rustler’s Rhapsody, a B-movie western spoof that gained a cult following after not performing well at the box office, is that Milton Brown and I had a hit song with Gary Morris called “Lasso the Moon,” and years later, George Strait told me that Rustler’s was one of his favorite movies. In some strange way, I think having done the music to that movie helped me connect in a much bigger way, creatively, with George when we worked on Pure Country together. We would recite different scenes from the movie and laugh, and it most definitely helped to break the ice and let us get to know each other better.

  I can’t really remember Larry ever getting tired except once—so tired that it affected his work. One of my favorite Larry moments was when I was prerecording hundreds of short song excerpts for The Singing Bee. I hired Larry to do charts. He was working eighteen-hour days in order to keep to an impossibly tedious schedule. We were recording 850 tracks over a ten-day period. Larry was doing hundreds of takedowns for me during a short period of time.