The Continuing Adventures Of Your Own Personal Jesus

#293: Photograph

2012-01-05T12:30:00.004+10:30

We did the holiday thing a short while ago, ended up in Melbourne where we caught the most amazing gig on New Years Eve - more on that later. On the way we went through Bendigo and off to Kelly Country and Murchison, the latter was to seek out the long forgotten WWII German/Italian P.O.W. camps, long forgotten and sadly long gone. There's not much there to see and what remains is either covered by long grass or crumbling into oblivion. Still, as is my wont, where I go my camera goes with me, and I have a tendency to take as many photos as I can. The joys of a digital camera means I can snap as many photos as my little heart desires. If they're no good then I can delete them there and then, the rest come with me. Brilliant! Digital cameras have made my life a joy really.

Travelling can be both tiresome and interesting. Driving isn't something I enjoy doing non-stop in the heat of the day, and Australian summers are damn hot indeed. But for all of the bad hotel rooms, lumpy beds and noisy people in the next room rooting, there's moments of sheer euphoria and epiphany, such as what I experienced at the very top of Hanging Rock, sharing the crisp morning air with merely a lizard and a flock of butterflies. Say what you want, but this is a wonderful country with much to see and experience. And, for those who might be curious, here's just a few of the 500+ photos I took during the past two weeks. I hope you enjoy them. Personally I think the more I use the camera, the better I get at taking photos, but I'm happy to leave that open to the masses.

Stringybark Creek - this is the site of the legendary Kelly Gang shoot out

Ruins

Bendigo Cemetery

Remains of a church

Hanging Rock

#292: I Kissed A Girl

2012-01-04T14:48:00.000+10:30

And he's rooted a few of them in his time too. However Wussel Bwand's marriage to Katy Perry hasn't lasted all that long, but at least it lasted longer than Sinead O'Conner's last effort, which, by all accounts, lasted just long enough for Sinead to win custody of the wedding cake. I always expect these so called 'celebrity' marriages do fall to pieces shortly after they're entered into and this was no exception. I've always thought that Brand was about as heavyweight as a hot air balloon, and Perry, singer of crap songs and peddler of zit cream, isn't much better. In fact, they appear to be perfectly matched when you look at it - the bland meets the vapid. You work out which one is which.

As it is Brand, who is 'working' on his new book, My Divorcy Worcy by slurring at some poor hack, has done the filing in court, and here it is. Poor Kathryn Hudson, she's now going to be single and back to kissing girls. Perhaps she can compare notes with some of the other media whores, who are famous for doing nothing and just being - like Paris Stilton and Kim Kardassian.

#291: Merry Kissmas!

2011-12-24T08:48:00.001+10:30

Ok, so the title of this post is a crap pun, but I've been thinking long and hard what to offer up as a Christmas goodie for the eight people and the canine who actually read this blog. Considering that the few people I've spoken to have been kind of surprised at the documents that I've unearthed in recent times, I thought I'd start putting up some of the more obscure, rarely seen and, as such, desirable pieces of paper from both my electronic and physical collection. This will take time, so don't expect miracles overnight, but to whet the appetite I thought I'd show off this little ripper - the December 1977 management agreement between Bill Aucoin and Kiss.

What makes this document a stunner is the names that the band members were using, even then. The contract has all of the band's proper names - Paul Frehley, Stanley Eisen, Peter Criscula and Gene Klien. As we all know now, that isn't Gene's birth name, but it was the Anglicised name that he'd been using for years, certainly since he arrived in America. I guess people would speak to Gene, or Eugene, but not to Chiam Weitz. Go figure. Paul Stanley, while not adverse to having his real name used on the contract, wasn't going to sign it with anything other than his stage name though, which makes me wonder - would that then have voided his portion of the contract? For all of these years perhaps he hasn't actually had a management deal with anyone other than himself - now that would be an interesting concept. The contract was definitely a must as Kiss were busily suing the pants off everyone, and cutting deals along the way, by the end of 1977, and had entered into a licensing deal in 1976 (that contract will be posted shortly) and by mid 1978 they had taken multiple people to court for using the Kiss name and logo, pocketing some cash along the way, including some serious green from the likes of the publishers of Grooves Magazine (more on that, also soon).

Anyway, enjoy this little tid-bit, or not, and I'll be back posting after the new years break with many more oddities and commentaries on anything that I feel like yapping about. Until then, have a great festive season, keep it safe and look after each other. Remember, Jesus doesn't love you all, and he does love some more than others, and he definitely loves some as often as he gets the opportunity.

Sub-editors were shit at fact checking even in 1981

I have a story behind this comic book that's never been told...keep your eyes peeled as all will be revealed in 2012

#290: Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough

2011-12-08T09:54:00.001+10:30

Clint Eastwood once famously said that dying ain't much a living, but profiting off the dead certainly is a great living. Dying isn't cheap these days and funerals certainly add to the cost. Gone are the days when you could take a body of a loved one, find a nice, secluded spot and dig your own hole to bury them. Hell, back then it didn't matter if they weren't all that dead. Or you could go gathering wood and build your own Viking Funeral Pyre and smoke up the neighbourhood. Or you could shove the body under a few twigs in a forest. Or, if you lived in Germany in the 1930s and 1940s, you used oversized pizza ovens and waited for the likes of David Irving to say you didn't. All very economical and mostly effective, but unless you're a psychopathic serial killer, a nutbag or a gangster in a Martin Scorcese movie, when someone pops off you have to go down the proper channels, getting death certificates and the like, and you can't just throw the body off the local jetty or plant it near the azaleas.

It gets more expensive when you're rich, famous or simply notorious and want to have a massive memorial service. it helps if you're royalty or have done something like kill a lot of people in a war because then the Government (tax payer) will foot the bill and you'll end up on the idiot box and hopefully a half day holiday will be declared. But if you're merely Michael Jackson then someone has to pick up the bill, and what a bill it is!! According to the never reliable Wikipedia site, Jackson's funeral contained the following elements: A public memorial service held on July 7, 2009 at the Staples Center in Los Angeles, California, preceded by a private family service at Forest Lawn Memorial Park's Hall of Liberty in Hollywood Hills, and followed by a gathering in Beverly Hills for Jackson's family and close friends.Jackson was planted in a solid-bronze casket, plated with 14-karat gold and lined with blue velvet, which arrived just before 10:00 a.m. local time, when it was placed in front of the stage. The stage was filled with floral arrangements, with photographs and film of Jackson and the Jackson 5 projected onto screens at the back. Music and video montages traced his life from the beginning of his career to the end.

Not too shabby. And the total cost? Just over 1.8 million dollars, which was on top of the 1.4 million that the City of Los Angeles had to fork out in extra police, traffic control and cleaning up the garbage that the fans left behind - who paid that? Well if you're paying fines or rates in Los Los Angeles right now then you're paying it. Now you'd be forgiven for thinking that the Jackson Estate were a bit peeved at this, but I expect that they were more peeved at losing the estimated $100,000,000 that Jackson was expected to pocket if he'd completed his massively hyped O2 concerts. That's getting your priorities right.

Perhaps Jackson should have invested in the Insuranceline Funeral Plan, which have commercials on the idiot box here in Australia every second minute. After all they pay out quickly, although I'm expecting that it'd have cost him more than $3.88 a fortnight and they might have baulked at the solid brass coffin - they might have suggested the cardboard option and a simple funeral, with the Beatles singing Help over his grave...

They just saw the bill...

#289: Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque

2011-12-06T17:50:00.001+10:30

“Ithink I love you? Well, actually,no. I’m sure of it. I most certainly do not love you or yourstudio.” You can imagine David Cassidysinging that, on stage, night after night since 1975 when the Partridge Familygot canned and went off the air. Shortlyafter that Cassidy fell victim to the dreaded ‘teen idol’ curse and stoppedselling albums. It mattered not what hedid, the world saw him as Keith Partridge, singer of crappy kiddies songs. He was either passé for the same people who’dwet themselves over him in 1972 and had moved onto staring at Robert Plant’scock, or just being shit by those who’d smoked a bit more weed and were busilypontificating the virtues of Pink Floyd, ELP, Genesis and King Crimson. Everyone else had moved on and the new kidswho were once busily growing up Brady had grown up and instead of longing for asister like Jan they merely wanted to pork Marcia. Vale David Cassidy, opr David Cassorole as he was often called down here, we knew him well.

Thetruth is that Dave didn’t sing that badly. He could carry a tune and, together with assorted songwriters, producersand musicians, created some memorable bubblegum pop. It didn’t matter that the stand in on hisshow was a woman, it didn’t matter that he had a tendency to stick his knob throughhis gate so some slapper could blow him, it didn’t matter that he liked to leapinto bed with the first crab infested groupie he saw and it didn’t matter thathe assembled a band that were more comfortable playing Purple Haze at fullvolume than C’Mon Get Happy. None of it mattered;he was the clean cut Kid Of The Hour – the Justin Bieber of 1971. He posed semi-nude for Rolling Stone andoutraged all of the parents of the little girls who screamed and creamed theirway to sleep at the thought. A Sex-Godwas Cassidy. He wasn’t a bad actor anddid the best with the material that he was given, which usually meant that hejust had to stand around, look cute, utter a few one-liners, sing a song andsmile a lot. The Partridge Family wereakin to the Brady Bunch really, a wholesome family that had absolutely zero incommon with real families of the time. Danny Partridge would wise mouth, he was told not to and that wasthat. If I wise mouthed I usually gotsmacked in the mouth and that was that, if I were lucky. We never saw the episodes where Danny wouldbe helping his pals to see Laurie naked in the shower, or where Keith startedto sniff glue and beat the living suitcase out of Chris, or where Shirley foundthe porn stash, or where Rueben was caught molesting Tracy. Nope, if it happened in real life you’d notsee it on TV. It was the same with theBrady’s – you mean to tell me that Marcia and Greg didn’t explore the joys ofincest? Please! But I digress. Actually, no, I don’t. Speaking of incest, Shirley Jones, who playedShirley Partridge in the series, was actually David Cassidy’s step-mother inreal life. She married David’s father,Jack Cassidy, a man whom, if you believe only half the stuff you read, had aprick that’d make John Holmes gasp and liked slapping it about into anything hecould find, animal, vegetable or mineral, regardless of gender. And speaking of doodles, the rumour is thatDavid’s dick is nothing to sneeze at, the the point where his brothers, Patrickand Shaun (he of the utterly execrable ‘hit’ That’s Rock And Roll) have calledhim ‘Donk’ for years, Donk = donkey dick. Now that’s digression! And don’tget me started on Errol Flynn or Forrest Tucker.

Themoney, for the Partridge Family, was in the merchandise. There was millions to be made, and made itwas, even if the cast who’s faces were being exploited and sold saw next tonothing of it. Cassidy, in hissplendidly bitchy book, goes into exquisite detail as to how he was ripped offand then cast aside once his fifteen minutes faded. The ultimate insult for poor David thoughcame when he was snubbed at a party by Don Johnson. That’s right, Don Johnson. You wouldn’t have thought that Don couldafford to pick and choose who he speaks to, but clearly he could, and that madeCassidy lower on the pole than Don, and that’s damned low.

Cassidywent through most of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s dazed by drugs, booze andpoverty, slowly picking himself up, growing a mullet and singing his way backto life in Broadway based shows. He wasalways popular in England andhe managed to get a bit of a career going there, something that wasn’t going tohappen in the USAwhere they like their washed up stars to remain washed up, dead, homeless, injail or all of the above. Unless it’s Hollywood, they forgivealmost anything, including child rape (hello Roman Polanski) if they like you,talent need not apply. But nobody wasgoing to forgive David Cassidy, if only because he seemed to have too much funwhen he was at the top. Still, Dave comeout the other side, bitter but sober, by all accounts. He began to distance himself from thePartridge Family, but you can’t escape your past, especially when your past ison late night television and your on-screen brother is busily getting bustedfor drugs and beating up transvestite hookers, God love you DannyBonaduce. What stunned a lot of peoplewas realising that Cassidy was broker than you and me both. He’d made millions during his peak days butlost it all due to bad investments, even worse contracts, horrid deals andparasites. Cassidy had a good managerwho was overwhelmed by the sheer scope of Cassidy’s fame – at one point he waspossibly bigger than Elvis and the Beatles combined. But then the Beatles had broken up and Elviswas vanishing inside of a peanut butter coated Big Mac washed down with boozeand pills. Slowly David reconciled hispast, sadly his on-screen sister and off screen allegedly friend with benefitsfor at least one evening Susan Dey wants nothing to do with the show or thepeople associated with it. Good on her,stick to your guns I say!

Davidshared the depths of his depression and lack of cash in a brilliantly bitchybook, titled C’Mon Get Happy: Fear & Loathing On The Partridge Bus releasedin the early 1990s. He revised it andre-released it later and as such books go it’s a hoot. Not one to shy away from the fact that he wasa young idiot, he takes a lot of the blame for the swindling of his finances,but he also lays a lot of the blame squarely at the feet of those who rippedhim off. It’s a cracker of a read andone thing that emerges is the studio’s insistence that it owes him nothing atall, indeed if anyone owes it’s Cassidy who owes them for giving him fame. Which has led to David finally filing a law-suitagainst Sony and Screen Gems for money, and its money that he should get and,on the surface of things, he has a halfway decent shot indeed, considering thatboth parties have often boasted that the money the Partridge Family has rakedin since the 1970s exceeds $500,000,000, via board games, toys, shit, books,records, DVDs, videos, royalties, sales, more shit, sheets, toilet paper, andvirtually anything you can think of.

Tostart with David signed his first contract when he was a minor, which meantthat it was null and void. By the timethis was discovered the show had been on air for a season and his propertystatus was rapidly approaching hot, so another contract, with more favourableterms, was duly drawn up and signed. This contract offered more favourable terms: 15% of the net proceeds ofall merchandise using his name, likeness and/or voice and an additional 7.5%from the show and any spin-offs (of which there was one, and it bombed). By now people are laughing at the term ‘netproceeds’, but unlike net profits, you can make money from net proceeds. Here’s how it worked: the term ‘net proceeds’translated as such – once the gross receipts were in the studio would take aflat 25% off the top, followed by another 10% for commissions and thelike. What was left would be called the‘net receipts’, so, in effect, David was down for 15% of 65% of the gross,which, when you see an amount of half a billion, isn’t something to throw dartsat. Naturally the studio haven’t paid,and each time an accounting firm has gone through the books they come upblank. Eventually the squeaky wheel thatis now David Cassidy got so tiresome that they merely stopped talking to him,stopped sending him any accounts or cash and applied the silent treatment tohim. The shoddy deal was nothing new,almost anyone who has been part of such a show has their own horror stories totell, from Happy Days through to, well, anyone really, other than the BradyBunch, who, by all accounts, made a bit of cash from their association. Perhaps David would have been better off asGreg Brady.

Cassidyfinally snapped in May of this year when he was told that he was owed nothing,and further to that he had no financial stake in the actual show, but only inmerchandise that featured his name, likeness or voice. Even better he was told that all money owedhad been paid in the 1970s and that he should now just piss off quietly andfade back into obscurity (ok, I added the last bit, you can bet that someone ata board meeting said those words as they shoved a lump of lox into theirface). Now here’s where Cassidy has acase. Stupidly the same letter statesthat Screen Gems and Sony’s right to use David Cassidy’s name, likeness orvoice, expired in the 1970s, yet their right to merchandise Partridge Familymaterial, as long as it does not bear Cassidy’s name, likeness and voice, remainsintact. From records to DVDs to CDs todigital downloads – it’s all been available and earning a nice chunk of change. And each time something is released you canbet that, on the cover, you’ll find a photo of David Cassidy – hislikeness. On each CD is his voice andlikeness, and each DVD bears his name, likeness and/or voice. Whoops! So while they can’t release anything by David Cassidy, they only havethe right to merchandise The Partridge Family without his name, voice orlikeness – a black silhouette where Keith Partridge once stood.

IfCassidy can prove that Screen Gems and Sony have failed to provide properaccounting then he’ll stand a good chance at winning. If Sony proves that the contract has longsince expired for merchandise, yet they have released product with Cassidy’simage and voice then they’ll have to account for the period since, which couldbe decades. If the judge voids the original contract thenSony will have to enter into a new licensing deal with Cassidy. The options aren’t endless, but if Cassidycan get a decent lawyer, and going on the fact that the law firm he’s using quoteSun Tzu on their site, and boast a lawyer who once worked for one of thebiggest and brightest such law firm, he stands a better than average chance ofcoming out on top. Sony might servethemselves neatly by settling, but they won’t. As it stands there’ll be more than a few former sit-com stars sittingback in their velour beanbags watching this case with great interest. Good for David, that’s how to fight the TheMan, and, if we’re lucky, perhaps he’ll whip Big Johnson out in court and basha few people around the ears with it. C’Mon Get Happy my hairy arse!

#288: Lick It Up

2011-12-02T09:28:00.001+10:30

As a kid back in the 1500s Iremember reading how bands were formed. I remember reading how John Paul Jones phoned Jimmy Page and asked himif he was forming a band, and if so, did he need a bass player? Page said, sure, and mentioned how he waschecking out a drummer and singer that weekend and would get back to him. A rehearsal was set up and Led Zeppelin wasformed. Everyone got rich, famous andlaid. Queen simply formed itself; Kissplaced an ad in the Village Voice and got Ace Frehley as a result. The Beatles were drawn together and bondedover a steady diet of violence, music, alcohol and drugs in Hamburg (where John Lennon would regularlyberate his German audience, calling them “Fucking Nazis,” and Heiling Hitlerfrom the stage during shows). Bands wereshored up on a foundation of mutual respect, if not outright friendship, thelatter wasn’t always a requirement – as David Lee Roth once wrote about hisfractious relationship with Eddie Van Halen, “I don’t have to like you in orderto make beautiful music with you.” Hell,the Everely Brothers, Don and Phil, haven’t spoken to each other for decades,and there’s always that great story about how Don once kneed Phil in the balls,on stage, and screamed, “That’s for fucking my wife!” Or perhaps it was Phil who kneed Don, perhapsit never happened. Either way, it’s agreat story and perfectly illustrates the complexities of working withanother. Still, within the confines ofsuch relationships, memorable music more than often happens, and there is thatsafety net of bouncing ideas off another person, which doesn’t always happenwhen you work alone. Bowie once said, “The only thing wrong withbeing me is that I can’t break up and release a solo album.”

The original and still the best.

Along the way bands began to beformed by committee and no longer was it a simple matter of, “Hey man, wannajam and form a band?” Contracts becamethe name of the game, and as time passes the contracts became the norm. The bigger a band became the more arduous thedeal that was made. The classic case isdisplayed below – Vinnie Vincent’s deal to enable him to join Kiss. And before anyone says, “Well, it is Kissafter all,” consider these facts – the deal was struck in 1982. In 1982 Kiss were dead in the water. They’d lost one founding member in PeterCriss, sacked in 1980 due to substance abuse and a general attitudeproblem. Although the band would alwaysinsist that Criss left to go solo, trust me, they fired his arse. They then hooked up with a new drummer – thelate, great Eric Carr – and made one of the worst selling albums they’d everrelease in Music From The Elder. Personally I like that album, and anyone who says that it’s the worstthing they ever did clearly hasn’t listened to the absolute pus that the bandwould release a few years later – Animalize and Asylum anyone? As Winger or Cinderella albums they werefoul, as Kiss albums they weren’t scraping the bottom of the barrel, theylifted the barrel, dug down deep into the shit below and found something pastthat. The Elder wasn’t bad, songs likeThe Oath and I were born Kiss anthems that should be played in concert, but, asit didn’t sell, aren’t. Sadly somepeople can’t differentiate between bad sales and bad music – just becausesomething doesn’t sell it does not mean its bad, conversely just becausesomething does sell, it does mean its good, otherwise we’d be living in a worldof Mitch Miller and Liberace. Jesus,even Milli Vanilli sold millions and I defy anyone to tell me the value in thatcrap.

Back to 1982. Kiss were a joke, and not a very goodone. They’d appealed to the comic bookpop culture youth of the 1970s, but those kids had grown up and left the bandbehind. Guitarist, and frankly the soulof the band, Ace Frehley was spiralling down into a land of booze, drugs, gunsand fast cars, ultimately realising that the longer he stayed in the band theunhappier he was and the more self-destructive he’d become which made him fearfor his life. Gene Simmons and PaulStanley told acceded to his choice of standing out of the making of the nextalbum, Creatures Of The Night. Severalguitarists were auditioned, including Robben Ford and Steve Ferris (who wouldlater find fame as the guitarist for Mr Mister – yep, the guy who plays on BrokenWings is the same guy who plays that steaming guitar on the title song,Creatures of The Night – and I bet that’ll fuck with Pete The Stud’s head)along with Eddie Van Halen, not that it was ever going to happen. Only one person fit the mould, VinnieVincent, who’d also written some songs for the album. Vincent was duly hired after signing thecontract shown below. Ace Frehleyquietly left the band and promptly smashed his car into a tree.

On the surface of things it was amarriage made in heaven. Vincent couldplay guitar and, unlike Frehley, was more modern. Not that’s anything wrong with Frehley – Istill prefer him over anyone else the band has ever had and Vincent couldwrite. He sat down with Simmons andStanley and co-wrote the bulk of the album, Lick It Up, which marked the firsttime that the band had appeared without make-up, a stance they’d continue untilthe lure of filthy lucre got too much. Well, I should say without make-up for the bulk of the time mainlybecause in the mid 1980s Gene Simmons was wearing a combination of make-up anda wig that made him look all the world like Bea Arthur on stage and trust me,there is something wrong with that. Instead of The Demon Gene Simmons became The Pansy and there he remaineduntil 1991.

You could argue that Vincent got agood deal. To start with he was placedon a salary which afforded him $2,000 per week – healthy cash in 1982. His benefits included travel expense while ontour, which afforded him first class travel and a healthy per diem. He was also gifted at least three weeks paidvacation per year. Prior to joining Kisshis main claim to fame was working with Dan Hartman and appearing, sansmake-up, in the video for the disco song Instant Replay (I’m not making this up– check for yourself, there he is, larger than life), and had stated that he’dearned approximately $50,000 for his previous ten years as a professionalmusician. It looked good, Vincent wouldmake more than that in six months. Butthe contract, when you consider it, was a one-sided stacked deck. When the contract was boiled down it came tothis: among other things, Vincent was employed as an employee-for-hire as alead guitarist, that he would render recording services and perform on tour,and that he would participate in recording and promotional functions on behalfof and at the direction of KISS in exchange for a weekly salary and otherbenefits. In return the band would provide Vincent with a character, costumesand make-up design, but that likeness, “shall remain the sole property of KISS,together with all representations thereof including, inter alia, photographs,motion picture and television usage and material publicly disseminated or sold,free from any claim, direct or indirect, by CUSANO or his heirs orassigns.” It got worse, far worse. If Vincent left the band then he could notstate that he was a former member of the band, or that he was an employee ofKiss, couldn’t use the make-up and could not perform any of the music that heco-wrote while in the band. Ever. He could not perform with anyone else whilein Kiss (something that rankled Eric Carr who wanted to drum on Ace Frehley’sfirst proper solo album). And thatwasn’t the end of it.

Vinnie Vincent no longer owned hisown music. Upon signing the contract hehanded over any rights to his own compositions, either solo or jointly. The relevant clauses stated that;

“Prior Compositions” - all musicalcompositions (other than those musical compositions embodied on KISS's ‘Creaturesof the Night’ album which are subject to that certain co-publishing agreementdated June 7th, 1982) written or co-written by CUSANO prior to commencement ofthe Employment Term.” This clause affected everything that he’d written before joining the band that hadn’t beenrecorded and meant that Kiss now owned it all. Upon signing the contract Vincent assigned all Right, Title and Interestto each and every prior composition to Kiss. Easy as that. If Kiss recordedthe song then they’d own 100% of that song. If anyone else recorded the song by September 1983 then Vincent would own the song, but, by virtue of thecontract, he wasn’t able to shop his music around. After that date, no matter what, Vincentowned 50% and Kiss owned the other 50%, no matter who recorded the song, otherthan, of course, Kiss, who would own 100% of the song if they recorded it.

"Term Compositions" - allmusical compositions written or co-written by CUSANO during the Employment Termand/or the Production Term.” This wouldcover anything written while he was in the band and under that clause Kissowned it all. If they recorded anythingafter September 1984 then Vincent would be allowed to have 50%, otherwise suckit up. He would be entitled toroyalties, but, in a great twist, Vincent had to appoint Kiss as his, “…trueand lawful attorney-in-fact to execute, verify, acknowledge and deliver any andall instruments or documents which CUSANO shall fail or refuse to execute,verify, acknowledge or deliver to effectuate the intent of thisparagraph.” You have to love that.

"Another Artist" - arecording artist other than KISS or CUSANO in his capacity as a solo recordingartist.” This covered anything thatVincent wrote that anyone else might want to record, but before anyone couldhear it he’d have to submit the demo to Kiss, who, if they decided they likedit, could claim it, not record it and there it’d sit, forever, and foreverowned by Kiss. Mind you, as statedearlier, he could not work or write with anyone without the express consent ofKiss, and you can count on it that consent wouldn’t be forthcoming. Was it bad? Bet on it. It got worse. “Publisher shall have the right to use thename, photograph and likeness of Writer and biographical material concerningWriter, for advertising, purposes of trade and otherwise without restriction inconnection of the Composition.” Vincentno longer owned his own life.

The royalties weren’t anythingamazing. For each song published Vincentgot seven cents. For each retail sale hegot 5%, after taxes, tariffs, and discounts – the usual crap. That covered only the USA and Canada, for the rest of the worldhe got 50% of any net sums earned and received – which would be 50% of fuckall. Net means after all of the expenseshave been taken out, which generally leaves a debt. If a song book was released he’d get $1.00per song for that, provided that the publisher paid up. If not, bad luck. And, in a great clause, “Publisher shall notbe required to pay royalties to Writer for public performance of theComposition. Writer shall receive royalties for public performances front theperforming rights society with which Writer is or may, in the future, becomeaffiliated.” In fact there are moreparagraphs detailing how Vincent was not to be paid than there are how he wouldbe paid, if at all. As it stood whenVincent filed for bankruptcy in the late 1980s the band offered him just over$1,500 for complete control over his Lick It Up contributions, despite beingpaid approximately $65,000 in royalties. To put that into perspective, Sting reportedly earns $1,000USD a day forEvery Breath You Take. That’s right,$356,000USD+ per year, for one song. Vincent earned $65,000USD for album that he wrote all but one song on,for a period that covered several years. By 2009 Vincent still owed Kiss around $52,000 for his music. That’s right, he OWED them money, not theother way around. How? Because he sold his publishing rights to Kissfor a one-off payment of $50,000. He’llstill make a bit of cash from his song writing royalties, but the true money isin the publishing – just ask Michael Jackson (if you could) or Paul McCartney,both of whom made millions, if not billions, off the backs of other musicians,in Jackson’s case, it could be argued that he made more from the Beatles thanboth Lennon and McCartney combined.

Then moral of the story? Not all offers are worth taking, not allcontracts are worth signing, and I’m not the least bit surprised that Vincenthas routinely sued Gene Simmons since the early 2000s, but, sadly, he has nochance at all of winning.

#287: I'm Not Your Baby

2011-11-25T08:49:00.001+10:30

You are the eldest of four children raised in a family whereyour mother was apparently physically and verbally abusive towards your father.They remained together until you and your siblings left home and thenseparated. --Honour Judge Soulio 23 November 2011; sentencing remarks in the district court.

Todayis White Ribbon Day, or, more to the point, it is the International Day for theElimination of Violence Against Women and White Ribbon Day, which urges men tospeak out against violence against women. Right up front I want everyone toknow that I am not opposed to this, I fully agree with it, in principle. Men who carry out domestic violence are the lowest of the low. Whatirks me about it is the continual silence over domestic violence against men,by same sex partners and by women. And that we have to have such a day in thefirst place, and that such a day is gender biased. As a man I am lookedupon with a degree of scorn by women when I donate to the cause but refuse towear the white ribbon. I do offer my explanation, some people understand,others accuse me of being a perpetrator of hate myself. Whatever gets peoplethrough the night I guess.

Whatare my reasons for refusing the wear the white ribbon? Because I feel thatdomestic violence should be eliminated, for everyone. In order I feel that itshould not be acceptable to perpetuate violence against children, women andmen. The perpetuators are not always men; women and even children play theirpart. I’m the first to admit, and agree, that the bulk of the violenceis carried out by men, and for that I do feel a sense of shame for my gender,however when a woman attacks me for wanting to eliminate domestic violence,then they are merely perpetuating their own unique brand of DV against me. Pure and simple. Violence begats violence.

I’venever hit a woman. I’ve been tempted, more than once. I’ve beenin physically abusive relationships in the past. One long term partner I hadwas particularly savage, in her own way, with the offending being emotional(she’d not speak to me when it was my birthday, when we were out she’dogle and chat up other men in front of me, she’d tell me how she hated meand loved me at the same time – standard stuff), mental and physical. Asfor the latter, I’d be hit, sometimes I’d earn it by my ownstupidity (more on that in a second) and sometimes not. She’d lose hertemper at someone or something, and I’d wear the belt. If she felt I’dmessed up then she’d go off the handle, culminating in her running medown in her car. Why you ask? Because we’d gone a gig and some woman,behind me and unbeknownst to me, had written her phone number on my shirt inred lipstick. It mattered not that, by the time we got out of the gig, I’dsweat so much it was mostly a red blur and unintelligible, it was the thoughtthat counted. So I pleaded with her not to leave, she left, I stood andwatched her go, she slammed the car in reverse, lined me up and took me out. Ijumped, at the last second, but still got clipped enough to take the wind outof me and stuff my left leg up. Later she had me admit that it was my fault.

Inshort, I played the lap dog. I was so starved for her affection that I’dfreely agree that any abuse was my own doing. I was in total denial, myfriends would point out to me what was happening, and I’d shrug it off. And I never reported it. And I stayed with her because I genuinely did loveher and thought that this was just a phase she was going through. Soundfamiliar?

I’msix foot three and weight anywhere between 80 to 100 kilos, depending on howmany pies I’ve scoffed down that week. I’ve been told that I’ma physically imposing guy. My ex was five foot four and weight about 60 kilossoaping wet, fully clothed with weights attached. Who do you think the copswould believe? Not me, that’s for sure. And therein lays the issue.

TheWhite Ribbon web-site would have people believe that, “Of the men who have experienced violence, only 4% ofassaults have been by a female current or former partner.” Idon’t believe that. I think a more honest statement would be that of allthe men who have REPORTED violence, only 4% of assaults have been by a femalecurrent or former partner. Men don’t report domestic violence, it’sthat simple. There is a stigma attached to men reporting domestic violence,especially when it’s carried out by women. A male would rather tell atreating physician or the police that they were mugged by male, or males,unknown, than admit that they got smacked out by a woman. If you don’tbelieve that then you need to wake up.

Inmy former life as a Tesla Electrical Coil, I assisted many females and maleswho were victims of domestic violence. To be honest the number of women washigher, but they had more resources, such as women’s shelters anddomestic violence hotlines. Men have men’s shelters, but a male callinga domestic violence hotline will generally be told that they can’t behelped, that the lines are for women only. That’s not equality. Of themales that I assisted one stands out. A large guy he’d been the subjectof on-going domestic violence. His wife would hit him, she’d force himto sleep in the carport, he was not allowed to speak. Each time he spoke upshe’d simply tell him that she was going to phone the police and tellthem that he’d hit her. The police would believe it. Each time he wentto report it the police would tell him to toughen up and deal with it. Eventually he fled, with the children, but not before she stabbed in theshoulder. Despite her not having a mark on her and him covered in bruises anda stab wound, he was charged and told to return the kids. He didn’treturn them as they, aged between 8 and 14, didn’t want to go back. Ifelt for him.

Ifeel for anyone who is a victim of domestic violence, child, woman and man. Ifeel that, instead of the endless campaigns warning men not to hit women, we’dbe better served with a campaign that states, simple, “DomesticViolence? AustraliaSays No!” That would work, I think, for all. I think that moreawareness should be raised so that ALL victims of domestic violence, regardlessof their gender, should feel safe in reporting it. That is the goal I’dlike to see reached, and that is the goal I’d happily donate to.

Inthe meantime, donate to the White Ribbon Day. It’s flawed, to be sure,but I guess it is a start.

#286: The Edge Of Reality

2011-11-15T10:17:00.001+10:30

History is full of unlikely encounters and bedfellows, andthe 20^th century was certainly no exception. If you can believe that the sex-goddessMarilyn Monroe would not only bed, but marry, Arthur Miller (who was about assexy as a stamped bat) then you’d believe almost anyone would like anyone. John F Kennedy had a strong liking for FrankSinatra. George Bernard Shaw was greatchums with Harpo Marx, Salvador Dali liked Alice Cooper. But surely the oddest of them all, and themost unexplainable, would have to be the meeting of President Richard MilhousNixon and Elvis Aaron Presley.

The beauty of fame in the 20^th century is that itwas generally built around some form of charisma mixed with at least a dash oftalent. Sonny Tufts might not have wonany acting awards, but he was entertaining to look at, and still is, in hismovies. The Legendary Stardust Cowboymade music that’d make your ears bleed, but as a songwriter he was good enoughto have his songs covered by David Bowie. Jimmy Page, Charlie Chaplin, Bill Wyman and many others might have beenclassed as paedophiles and placed on a sex offenders list but for the fact thatthey had some amazing talents – although, with Bill, people are still trying towork it out. Ju Suis Un Rock Star myarse! The criteria of talent and/orcharisma went out of the window once ‘reality’ television and the internetbecame massive, and it’s no surprise that both phenomena are linked, but stillfame is more fleeting these days than ever – remember Sara Marie and her bumdance? She was everywhere back in theday, doing book signings, miming at shopping malls – the lot. Last I heard she was flogging shoes inSydney. Collette is ringing the dinnerbell at a zoo. The bird from Dollar nowsells Chiko Rolls at Circular Quay. Pickany fringe band or actor and they’re probably driving cabs now. Once the fame fades we generally only hear ofpeople now when the door to a public toilet is opened and they’re busted orthey top themselves. Even then peoplemerely say, “Tsk tsk, who?”

Fame in the 21^st century is now measured by howmany people talk about you. The originalstupid spoiled whore, Paris Hilton, is famous for merely being famous. She can’t act, she certainly can’t sing – butin her defence I’d rather listen to any of her warblings than have to sufferthrough the murderous duet that is Ozzy and Kelly Osbourne slaughtering BlackSabbath’s Changes, trust me, don’t do it – and Hilton’s main claim to fameseems to be built around a rather poor quality home made porn tape, in whichshe reveals herself to be about as sexually desirable as a cracked coffeecup. Even the Mimi McPherson tape is abetter waste of time than Paris, if nothing else the quality is better and Mimiis far better looking naked than Hilton ever will be, and Mimi hasn’t got manhands. Kim Kardashian is much the same –what do these people do? Other than havefake marriages and whip the girls out – and they’re probably fake too – andthrow tantrums on camera. If you wantfame them get some media, place a low quality porno on-line and then arrangeyour own reality show. You don’t needtalent; you just need to be out there. Tori Spelling anyone? How manybooks has she signed her name to? I knowactual writers who’ll never get a contract, but Tori can tape record somebabbling, hire some hack to jot it down and there it is, on sale for $1.99 onthe bargain table at any bookstore, and trust me, they’ve got boxes of the shitout the back, generally they’re used to level tables and chairs.

Which brings me back to Elvis and Nixon. In 1970 Elvis sat down, on a plane, anddecided that he wanted to meet Nixon. Elvis was worried about the growing counter-culture that existed inAmerica at the time, and those damned kids with their damned rock and roll andheavy and also metal. Thosebastards. People had stopped listeningto Elvis years ago, he’d ceased to be relevant when he got out of the army andbegan making some of the worst films you’re ever likely to see. For a guy who was once touted as the nextJames Dean, Elvis was reduced to singing songs to bulls and pretending he was abetter option than Christ for nubile nuns. Elvis movies make Adam Sandler’s early movies look like Oscar winners, andthey all followed the same basic plot – Elvis wanders into town/carnival/racetrack/village/ beach, meets a girl, runs into trouble with theauthorities/parents/anyone, has a fight, gets run out of town/carnival/racetrack/village/ beach, changes his mind, comes back to town/carnival/race track/village/beach, has another fight, wins the girl and everyone lives happily everafter. Insert names and songs here. The longer his Hollywood career went on themore insipid and less relevant he became. While people were expanding the boundaries of music and creating some ofthe most enduring sounds we know, Elvis was busily singing songs like Clambake,There’s No Room To Rumba In A Sports Car and Dominick The Impotent Bull. By 1970 Elvis was reduced to playing Vegas,eating obscene amounts of junk food and pumping his body full of whatever drugshe could find. And still he sangshit. Sure, there were some gems amongstthem, but for every Suspicious Minds, In The Ghetto or Edge Of Reality (asclose as Elvis got to being psychedelic) he recorded at least ten times moreshit that you’d be hard pressed to remember, and if you could then you’d notwant to. Elvis hated the Beatles, theStones, the Who and the Doors. He usedto swear when people mentioned Led Zeppelin, if only because Robert Plant andco, and many more, made better music and took sales away from him.

Elvis’s letter was illuminating to say the least. “The drug culture, the hippie elements, theSDS, Black Panthers, etc. do not consider me as their enemy,” he wrote, “or asthey call it the establishment.” Therewas a reason for that – the drug culture, the hippies, the SDS and BlackPanthers didn’t consider Elvis as an enemy, they didn’t consider him to beanything, let alone a threat. He wasjust another drug addicted fat man, old before his time, living off pastglories. There was a method to Elvis’smadness though – he didn’t just want to meet Nixon, he wanted to be an uncovernark! “I can and will do more good if Iwere made a Federal Agent at Large,” he went on to say, “and I will help out bydoing it my way through my communications with people of all ages.” I don’t know about communication with peopleof all age, but that was Elvis. But ifyou think that was funny then you’ve ain’t seen nothing yet. “I have done an in-depth study of drugabuse,” wrote Elvis, in possibly the most unintentionally ironic line everwritten, “and Communist brainwashing techniques and I am right in the middle ofthe whole thing where I can and will do the most good.”

Elvis had indeed done ‘in-depth studies of drug abuse’, andmost of it was first hand as Elvis had his own, massive, drug problem. Elvis, by 1970, was addicted to any number ofpain killers and any number of uppers and downers – in effect anything he couldbash down his throat to get him through the shows, and through the days. Elvis’s study of drug abuse was done byreading, looking at himself and those around him. If ever there was a crime it was that people allowedElvis to kill himself, slowly. It wasn’tthat he was merely no longer relevant; by 1975 he was a wasted, bloated joke, ashell of a man, just waiting to die. Sad, but true. Remember Elvis pre1959, or by his ‘Comeback Special’ – that’s Elvis, everything else is merely anElvis impersonator. I know people whoare convinced that Elvis didn’t die and that he was replaced in his coffin by awax dummy for the showing. I tend tothink that he was replaced by a wax dummy in around 1974 and nobody noticed.

It’s doubtful that Nixon knew who Elvis was, or what hedid, or that Nixon even cared. He might have had someunderstanding of Elvis, but Elvis to Nixon would have been like any of theBackstreet Boys that isn’t Justin Timberlake to President Obama – the namemight ring a slight bell, but he’d buggered if he knew why without a detailedbriefing. Before anyone could get toNixon they had to get through the advisors, and a memo was duly writtenup. The memo, from Presidential AssistantDwight Chapin, led to the second hilarious act for all of this. In the memo Chapin suggested several options,from trying to find some form of a badge to give Elvis through to thissuggestion, “In addition, if the President wants to meet with some bright youngpeople outside of the Government, Presley might be a perfect one to startwith,” to which Nixon’s Chief Of Staff, Harry Haldeman responded, “You must bekidding.” Clearly Harry knew somethingthat Chapin didn’t know, and I’d better dollars to deutschmarks that Harry wasaware that the FBI has also been contacted by Elvis. In their files the FBI had noted that Elvishad been the subject of extortion attempts, was the subject of an on-goingpaternity suit that, “…during the height of his popularity during thelatter part of the 1950’s and early 1960’s his gyrations while performing werethe subject of considerable criticism by the public and comment in thepress.” The FBI weren’t all that willingfor Elvis to meet J Edgar Hoover (now that would have been a meeting of theminds) due to Elvis’s long hair and bizarre dress. It’s also very likely that both the CIA andFBI had also told Haldeman is that Elvis had an on-going drug issue, so thevery thought of Elvis working with the White House and Nixon was a no-no, plusElvis didn’t want publicity, for obvious reasons – he wanted to be a top secretundercover nark.

Elvis finally met Nixon at 12:30pm on Monday, 21^stof December, 1970. Before this Elvis hadcaused a bit of a stir by bringing a gift into the White House for Nixon in theform of a gun. Bringing weapons near thePresident has always been somewhat of a no-no, but Elvis made his case and wasallowed to bring his unloaded gun for Nixon, along with a pile of signedphotos, which Nixon promptly gave to his daughters and other staffers. The meeting started with the obligatory photoshoot featuring Elvis and Nixon and then moved on to more serious matters. Elvis cracked out his law enforcement medalsand badges, clearly to the amusement of Nixon, who was probably wondering whothis long haired hippy was in front of him. After hearing that Elvis was playing in Vegas, Nixon commented thatplaying Vegas was difficult – somehow I think that even speaking to Elvis wasdifficult for Nixon, but the thought of Nixon on stage, singing Hound Dog isjust a bit too funny for thought. In hisconversation Elvis brought up what would become a recurring theme for him – hishatred for the Beatles.

By the mid 1960s Elvis was a forgotten man for youth,replaced by four men from Liverpool, Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starr: TheBeatles. Everywhere Elvis looked it wasBeatlemania, and the sight of it must have driven him to tears. It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with it – athis peak Elvis had just as much attention as the Beatles, and just as manyyoung women, it was more that the Beatles had something that Elvis had longlost – credibility and relevance. Morepeople listened, and followed, the Beatles than did Elvis, and while theBeatles were being progressive with their music – and let’s be frank here, in1962 they recorded Love Me Do and in 1965 they’d moved to Tomorrow Never Knowsand in 1966-67 they’d moved to Sgt Pepper, a landmark in any era. Conversely Elvis was stuck in Hollywoodmaking his crap movies, recording crap songs and being about as relevant as alow rent Tab Hunter. The Beatles weremaking millions and playing to millions, Elvis was making hundreds of thousandsand unable to get a gig thanks to his utterly incompetent manager. Ricky Nelson was probably more relevant thanElvis when the Beatles were peaking.

Elvis hated how the Beatles had made money in America andthen left. “Presley indicated that hethought the Beatles had been a real force for anti-American spirit,” read areport of the meeting, “He said that the Beatles came to this country, madetheir money, and then returned to England where they promoted an anti-Americantheme.” I’ve been wracking my brains torecall where any of the Beatles ever promoted an anti-American theme. If anything they promoted an anti-touringtheme, that being that they were tired of the mindless routine of touring andplaying to masses of screaming girls, who were so loud that the music wassecondary, at best. Elvis’s anti-Beatlestance reportedly surprised Nixon, but, being Nixon, he nodded in agreement,probably still wondering who this fat hippy with the sideburns and funnyglasses was doing in his office. Atlunch time even. Nixon them warmed up tohis favourite theme – protests! Accordingto Nixon those who protested used drugs and those who used drugs wereanti-American, not the Beatles. Young people, bloody hippies, they all used violence,drugs dissent and protest – it was all the same. If you were young and didn’t have a crew-cutthen you were a hippy. Elvis also warmedto the theme of drugs and hippies, he mentioned his drug studies but didn’tmention how much of it had been first hand study, and made mention of the factthat he could infiltrate groups of hippies and rat them all out to the Feds,man. Nixon gave Elvis a badge andexpressed his concern that Elvis, “…retain his credibility.” That Nixon, he was a card, always handy with ajoke. And with that the meeting was overand Elvis was ushered out, Nixon probably sat down, had some food with hisadvisors and laughed his head off at the ridiculous looking hippy who wanted tobe a nark. Go for it Elvis, reporteveryone. As Tom Jones said later, ifElvis was going to turn in all the drug users he knew, he’d have to start withElvis.

Elvis wasn’t finished there. He’d also contacted the FBI with the same offer, that he be given someform of credentials so he could rat people out. He also wanted a meeting with Hoover. That was never going to happen. In 1970 it was easier to meet Nixon than Hoover, and Hoover wantednothing to do with the hippy in the bizarre capes and glasses, and thosesideburns. There was no harm though ingiving Elvis a tour, after all that was what most celebrities got, and Elviswas duly shown around on New Years Eve of 1970. The FBI reported the tour and meeting back to Hoover, as was the way,and the first thing they noted was that Elvis appeared to be somewhat bizarrein appearance. This wouldn’t have beenthat surprising as the FBI of 1970 was straighter than the White House andanything other than a suit, tie and buzz cut was bizarre. Elvis, in his multi-coloured outfits,complete with cape, funky sun glasses, long hair and what appeared to bebadgers attached to his cheeks would have caused shockwaves in FBIHeadquarters.

Elvis was proud of the badge that Nixon had given him whichidentified him as an agent of the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs, ameaningless notion at best. Again Elvisrallied against the Beatles, despite the fact that he often sang Beatles songsin concert. This time Elvis was adamantthat the Beatles had, “…laid the groundwork of many of the problems we arehaving with young people by their filthy unkempt appearances and suggestivemusic while entertaining in this country during the early and middle1960s.” It might be argued that Elviswas getting his Lennon mixed up with his Jagger, or even his Burdon, but we maynever know, indeed Elvis probably didn’t know either. Elvis then went to state that the SmotherBrothers and Jane Fonda had a lot to answer for. In another ironic statement, Elvis, whoseemed to be clear of drugs for this visit, was described as being a sober,clear minded young man, despite his manner of dress.

Nixon went on to other things, and people. He met Sammy Davis Jr, a meeting that didmore harm to Davis than good, and one that he would have to justify until hisdying day. Nixon could care less, he hadother things to worry about, like the Vietman war, and a little thing calledWatergate, which led to his eventual downfall. At one point in the mid ‘70s, Nixon was voted the most hated man of the20^th century, beating out other luminaries such as Hitler andStalin. That takes an effort. It would take over a decade after Nixonresigned from office in 1974 to regain some of his own credibility, but he didjust that, by remaining low-key, but becoming a voice. Nixon went a long way torehabilitate himself, and at the end of his life, in 1994, he was viewed moreas a curiosity than an outright villain. Checkers be damned, Nixon was the bogyman of a generation: “Eat yourpeas or Nixon will get you!” Watergatebecame a catchphrase, made a lot of careers and made a lot of peoplemillionaires. Nixon did his own bit, butwent his own way, and rarely, if ever, mentioned Watergate.

Elvis had just over six more years to live, beforesuccumbing to his toxic cocktail of drugs, physical abuse and junk food. Towards the end Elvis was a cartoon, acaricature of a man who would wander out on stage, mumble his way through a fewsongs, throw a few sweaty towels out to his blue rinse audience, stagger offand collapse backstage in a pool of sweat. There’s a lot to celebrate about Elvis, and each time a documentary ismade, or another of Priscilla’s TV specials, we’re reminded that, once, Elviswas a God amongst men, and he strode the Earth, bestowing his gifts amongst us. However there’s also a lot to mourn aboutElvis, how towards the end of his life he was abandoned by the very same peoplewho would later make fortunes from their associations, how he was under thespell of a few Svengalis, from his manager, Col Tom Parker, an illegalimmigrant who refused to allow Elvis out of the country for fear of losingcontrol over him, to Dr Nick, who happily supplied drug after drug, and howthose who could have saved him didn’t and instead fed his addictions happily. As long as the money flowed freely, peoplewere happy to allow Elvis to deteriorate to the point where it was far too lateto save him. His awards, his badges, hiswanting to be an uncover nark, his wanting to believe that he was still TheKing of Rock and Roll, it all counted for nothing when he expired, on thetoilet, in the most undignified manner ever. Elvis had long since become what he wanted to rally against, sadly hecould never see it. Although they ranparallel, Nixon was able to realise his failings and deal with them, Elvis wasjust too blind, and more is the shame.

But, for a shining few minutes, over forty years ago, one ofthe most unexpected, and improbably meetings of them all took place – The Kingmet The President.

#285: Seasons Of Change

2011-11-13T16:12:00.001+10:30

Back in 1971 you could have gone out to see some fantastic bands, for peanuts really. If you doubt me then check out these two handbills - Fraternity giving a two hour concert, with free Coke, at John Arnold's Jean Joint at Marion. John Arnold's Jean Joint is now gone, long gone, but I'm sure that somewhere, someone remembers that gig. Why would you have gone? Because Fraternity were good, damned good, and were headed by none other than Bon Scott, as this was his band between the pop band The Valentines and the hard rockin' legends AC/DC. It might not have gotten any better really.

Fraternity were formed in 1970, so this September 1971 gig would have been one of their earliest gigs. I spoke to drummer John Freeman a fair bit in the late 1980s when he was gigging around Adelaide playing delta blues guitar(!) and I always found him to be a good guy. When it came time to do a formal interview he walked in and said, "Before you ask, yes, I have no problems talking about Bon Scott." That broke a lot of ice indeed, and through John I got a great insight into what Bon was like as a person back in the day. Mind you we had our own encounter with Bon Scott in the mid 1970s involving a tour bus, our clapped out XP Falcon and my own allergic reaction to a track suit. In short we were stopped on the side of the road in the middle of the Hay Plains as my mother tried to work out why I was all red and blotchy. A bus pulled up, out leapt Bon and another guy, both of whom asked if everything was alright. Once they got the story they insisted on waiting until we were back on the road. "This ain't no place to be broken down," said Bon. Very well spoken, polite and, well, as AC/DC were on the verge of something massive of the time (this was in around 1976-77) he didn't need to be either. I'll carry that with me, and I tell that story a lot when people tell me what a fucked up druggie Bon was as it always changes people's minds.

"What the fuck are you lookin' at?"

And in September, for a mere $2 you could wander over to Ashton's Big Top Circus in the West Parklands and see Glass Web, Langford Lever and Music Express. I know a bit about Glass Web - each time I had their single or EP on the Nationwide label I was offered, and took, good amounts of money from Melbourne based dealers and historians, but, stupidly, I never once taped it so I could listen to it. As I'm becoming (re)acquainted with a lot of classic Aussie rock from the era, if anyone has a handle on Glass Web recordings then let me know. Until then, check out the handbills and wonder what was, and enjoy the ultra cool psychedelic grooves of that Fraternity ad, which could hold it's own with anything that came out of the USA for design.

#284: On This Day - 1966

2011-11-11T18:54:00.001+10:30

#283: It's Raining Men

2011-11-04T16:53:00.000+10:30

"Close your eyes and I'll fist you..." "Maybe later darling..."

I am learningsomething new everyday now, and by the Maker, do I love it. The lessontoday was how to vilify a person without any real proof.

Everyone over theage of 40 knows the story of Rock Hudson. Rugged leading man, Mr Macho,made a few decent movies and an excellent television series in MacMillan andWife. Acted alongside everyone from John Wayne to James Dean to ElizabethTaylor to Doris Day and was in fact Day’s preferred leading man for manyyears, in a number of lightweight comedies, the kind of films your mum andgrandma liked – no real plot and Rock was eye candy. Yes, Rock wasa handsome bugger, with an emphasis on both words, for he was a puddle jumper,good with colours, kept his change in his pockets, was always first on the dancefloor, knew what was in his flowerbeds, was a spud fumbler, liked Rustler’srelish and was a magician, in that when he’d go out, he’d oftenleave with a poof. Of course we all know the rumours, that Rock marriedJim ‘Gomer Pyle’ Nabors and changed his name to Rock Pyle, was thesubject of blackmail in the mid 1950s which his manager extracted him from by supplying details about Tab Hunter being arrested at a gay party and Rory Calhoun being banged up in the pokey, how had to marry a *brrrrr* girl as the result, andhow, in 1962, he was paid man-whore for a college wrestling team who used himfor donut practice. Ooooeeerrr. We also know that Rock was one ofthe first of the famous who died of AIDS, poor bastard, I’d not wish thaton anyone. So what did I learn today?

In 1965 the FBIwent to interview Rock Hudson about an unknown matter. As was the way ofthe time before anyone went to see him they ran a report to see if he wassubversive or had made any derogatory comments about the Bureau, presumably sothey could then have an excuse to shoot him on sight. In the course oftheir searches they uncovered something very interesting which would have madethe Director, J Edgar Hoover, run to the khazi for a quick J Arthur. According to the report, it was common knowledge in the motion picture industrythat Hudson was suspected of having *gasp* homosexual tendencies. Thereport then goes on to state that, “In view of the information thatHudson has homosexual tendencies, interview will be conducted by two matureexperienced Special Agents.” No use sending out some young,nuble, bronzed Agent that Hudson might be tempted to rape, instead they feltthat two old bastards would pose less of a threat, and there’s alwayssafety in numbers. Still, as they say, two’s company, three’sa bloody good time. While being interviewed Hudson had to prove that hewas once married to a female, which he did, by phoning his ex-wife so she couldconfirm that he was still sending her alimony cheques. Interviewwas over, the FBI got their information and duly left, but they didn’tleave Rock alone. In 1966, none other than the WHITE HOUSE asked if Rockwas on the level as part of a name check for potential guests to the WhiteHouse itself. The FBI replied that one of their informants had reportedhaving an affair with ole Rock (gay, of course) and that it was commonknowledge that Rock was homosexual and indulged in gay orgies. By 1969Rock Hudson was officially labelled a ‘sex-offender’ by the FBI, because as we all know, if you're homosexual then you're a deviant sex offender. All of this happened merely because Rock loved the cock! Not that there's anything wrong with that. The FBI near had a heart attack in both1967 and 1969 when Rock was cast as a FBI agent in two movies. Luckilyfor all concerned it was never made clear that Rock was working for J Edna,after all homosexuals were instant sex offenders and there were no homosexualsin the predominantly male environments of the Hoover FBI.

Feel free to arguethat point. Hell, I’ll argue it myself. Of course therehomosexuals in the FBI when Hoover was in charge, but, to protect both their livelihoodsand their own sanity, they stayed firmly in the closet. For Hoover alwaysadopted a strict, “Do as I say, not as I do,” policy while incharge and anyone who wanted to keep working and didn’t want certaindetails about their private lives leaked to anyone with half a working ear keptvery quiet indeed.

This all mightsound funny, and relatively innocent, but the unthinkable happened in 1972 –the information that the FBI had on file was ‘leaked’ to JackAnderson, a journalist who had a regular gossipy type column in The WashingtonPost. The FBI were fairly annoyed at this leak, not because it showedRock to be a deviant, but because their files had been released. It couldhave been worse, someone might have provided the newspapers with photos of JEdgar himself in drag, but that didn’t really happen. In order tofind out who said what to whom, the FBI ‘leaked’ a number ofrumours amongst the Secret Service and the White House, with the view that oncea story appeared in the papers, the FBI would get their man. Not surewhat happened there, but it was probably a good idea at the time.

A still from the little known movie, "Waiting For Gomer"

#282: Everyday I Write The Book

2011-09-30T20:31:00.002+09:30

Words to live by and, if I'm being entirely honest, when I was single and on the prowl I adopted a very similar policy. If I became interested in someone I'd ask a few questions, amongst them was the question of, "What kind of books do you read?" I'd follow that up with something like, "What's your favourite book?" If I got a stupid answer then I'd not bother taking that persons call ever again. Call me mean, but hey, intelligence is more sexy than just big norks and blowjobs. Trust me on that. Once the nookie is finished you need to be able to hold a conversation, it's important. I dated a few people with empty heads and after a few minutes of blank stares and debating the importance of Justin Timberlake, well, you just know it' useless.

I remember one such encounter well. We'd had dinner and I asked, "Do you read?" I got an angry stare back, "Of course I can read. Whatcha think I'm thick or sumfin?" "I'm not judging your literacy level," I replied, "I'm not asking, 'Can you read?', I'm asking, 'Do you read?'" "Oh," was the reply, "why the fuck would I bother reading? I stopped doing that when I left school." I felt like saying, well why the fuck would I bother fucking you, but that would defeat the purpose. I was already a bottle of wine in the hole, so, shallow bastard that I was, I took her home, did the deed and threw her out before the sun rose. She never called me, I didn't call her, the world turned but didn't move and a space shuttle somewhere exploded. I guess I was too smart for her and I know she was too stupid for me.

Thank Buddha The Bear not only can read, but does read, constantly. I doubt I've ever had such engaging conversation with anyone I've had any form of a long term relationship with. So, kiddies, listen to your Uncle John up there, if they're ignorant then leave them be - you don't want dickheads breeding who say things like, "I don't need to read, I'm about keeping it real!" - because you know they're going to name their kids things like Brittanny, Jaxxson, Hailey, Jaysun or Kingswood Jones.

In the meantime, enjoy the new blog lay-out, there's a few surprises coming up in the next few months or so, as I gear up for the holiday season.

#281: All I Wanna Do

2011-09-01T18:59:00.000+09:30

…is puke really. The history of music is littered with people who, put simply, just didn’t belong there. They might have been crazy bastards, plagiarists, paedos or simply untalented to the point where they just weren’t that entertaining. You can decide in which category Collette fits into, but, in order to help you, she just wasn’t that talented. I doubt she was crazy, had a paedo bear or plagiarised anyone.

Collette ‘exploded’ onto the scene in 1989 with her ‘remake’ of Anita Wards brilliant Ring My Bell. Whereas Anita Ward could sing the shit out of anything she chose to, Collette’s fame was packaged more around her fluro bike pants, braces and lyrca, into which she crammed a pair of rather large norks (bashed into a bra one size too small) and a bigger snout that wasn’t immediately apparent until she turned side on and aerobic exercises that she passed off as dance routines along with some absolutely mental poses that she struck. In a way she foreshadowed virtually every musical act that’s on the idiot box these days, where the emphasis is on Zuma routines and any vocal ability is decried from the balconies. Who gives a shit if they can sing? Do they have big tits and can they dance like a slut in heat? If the answer is yes then they’ll hit the top of the charts. Even when a genuine vocal talent such as Mariah Carey discovered that her voice wasn’t enough to ensure longevity and success, she had to get her nay-nay’s enlarged and her clothing reduced and basically put it about like a four dollar hooker. God love her, I still like listening to Vision of Love though, although these days she’s more a Vision Of Skank. However, unlike Carey and a few others, Collette had a voice that could be best described as weedy, and at worst, horrid. She wasn’t BOBFOC* by any stretch of the imagination, but jeez…I dunno.

Collette recorded two albums, one of which made the Top 50 nationally, the other of which died a death that’d have made Phil Spector proud. However, and this might stun some people, whereas her first single, the excruciating Ring My Bell hit number 5 on the charts, her follow-up, the equally as bad All I Wanna Do reached number 12! From there her career entered freefall and, God love the girl, she now works at Taronga Zoo where people walk past her and ask if she’s THAT Collette. The answer is, of course she is. And no, before you ask, she’s not an exhibit, that’d be far too cruel, both the for the zoo and Collette herself.

While Collette isn’t largely forgotten, the lawsuit over her is. Yes, there was a legal battle over the career and earnings of Ms Roberts in 1989, when her former producer/self-styled svengali sued both Collette and her record company CBS for ripping off his work. The producer in question had recorded Collette singing Ring My Bell as part of a demo tape and accused CBS of stealing his idea and arrangements. Neither claim held any water in court, much like Collettes career (boooooooom TISH!) and the case was dismissed with the producer having to pay costs. That would have to have hurt. Personally if I was attached to something as awful as Collette’s version of Ring My Bell I’d not be drawing attention to it, I’d be using a pseudonym, such as the name “Jimmy Page”. I’ve seen it done elsewhere. I presume that Andy Scott, he of Sweet fame, still gets asked about those Bucks Fizz singles he wrote and produced, and he might wish that he did – the money wouldn’t hurt.

The case did bring some interesting things to light though, the main facts being that Collette, well, just couldn’t sing a note really and didn’t have much in the way of musical ability. Consider these gems from the trial, all answers from the Main Gal herself:

Q: Yes, but perhaps at least to my ear the version of Ring My Bell that was recorded at Trackdown for example does not bear a great resemblance to the version sung by Anita Ward?

----

Q: In relation to the Anita Ward version. I think you said in that paragraph that you listened to the Anita Ward version four times every night for two weeks?

A: Definitely, and I remember that very clearly because I had to practice before my sister's children went to bed.

----

Now THAT’S dedication to one’s craft. Leaving out the obvious fact, that not even Helen Keller would have mistaken a Vanilla Girl such as Collette for being black, I wonder if those kids could now bring a case before the court for child abuse – imagine having to listen to Collette’s caterwauling four times a night for two weeks solid? It’d be enough to make you turn homicidal, not to mention the damage it’d have wrecked with any musical taste that might have been dormant. The end of case proved a few things though, amongst them:

Anita Ward had a killer voice, with “…considerable vocal agility and range.”

Collette Roberts was a singer who approached Ring My Bell, “…exactly what most people without aspirations to be professional singers do, often more or less inadvertently, if they enjoy 'singing along' with recorded songs.”

Ring My Bell had a lot of, “…colour and variety which Anita Ward was able to give by her singing and which Collette could not reproduce or did not attempt to reproduce, (and) were introduced by other means, as by emphasizing the sound of bells and by having a male voice sing a part of the song.”

There’s a lot more, but hey, read it yourself. As for who had the better song, well just let me say that Anita Ward is on my iPod, Collette isn’t. Ward took an otherwise sappy song and made it into a funky disco classic; Collette took an otherwise sappy song and made it, well weak. Trust me, that does take talent. Still, we shouldn’t be too harsh on Ms Roberts, she does donate her time, and by all accounts she does do more than just throw the occasional apple at a lemur or put some cat chow in for the meerkats at Toronga, and she has given up with the fluro pink bike pants, in public anyway, so we can almost, ALMOST, forgive her for littering the world with her attempts at Ring My Bell. It could have been worse though, have you ever heard Kelly Osbourne bleating through Black Sabbath’s Changes? How bad is it? Ask me to lunch one day, then we’ll sit down for a few hours and I’ll tell you fucking horrible it is. And Paris Stilton’s attempts at ‘singing’ are enough to make a deaf man’s ears bleed in pain. It never ends, and it never will, but sometimes even the most talented of producers can’t polish turds that rank.

*Look that one up on your own. Here’s a hint: Profanisaurus.

---------------------------------------------------------------

FEDERAL COURT OF AUSTRALIA

Re: CBS RECORDS AUSTRALIA LIMITED
And: GUY GROSS; GUY GROSS (Cross-Claimant); CBS RECORDS
AUSTRALIA LIMITED (First Cross-Respondent); COLLETTE ROBERTS
(Second Cross-Respondent)
No. G337 of 1989
FED No. 601
Copyright - Restitution
(1989) AIPC para 90-627

She should have been charged with crimes against fashion

ORDER

THE COURT DECLARES:
1. that the threats referred to in paragraphs 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 and 9 of the Statement of Claim are unjustifiable.

THE COURT ORDERS:
2. that the Respondent be restrained from threatening the Applicant or any other person with any action or proceeding alleging an infringement of copyright in the arrangement or the melody referred to in the Statement of Claim by the performance or broadcasting of the sound recording referred to in the Statement of Claim or by the manufacture or sale of any records embodying the sound recording.
3. that the cross-claim be dismissed.
4. that the Respondent pay the costs of the application and of the cross-claim.

DECISION

These proceedings brought by the applicant, CBS records Australia Limited ("CBS") seek declarations that certain threats made by the respondent, Guy Gross ("Guy") that CBS has infringed the copyright in an arrangement of a musical work of which he was the author were unjustified and seek injunctions to prevent their repetition. In a cross-application brought against CBS and a vocalist, Collette Roberts ("Collette"), Guy seeks relief against the infringement of copyright which he alleges and in which he claims Collette participated. Guy also seeks recompense for work which he claims to have done for Collette and of which he claims Collette took advantage.

In the 1970s, a recording by the American singer, Anita Ward, of the song "Ring my Bell" was released in Australia and became well known in this country. CBS companies overseas had copyright in that work. In 1988, Collette, an aspiring young singer and songwriter, contacted Guy, who was known to her as a person experienced in the writing and composition of songs, to collaborate with her in writing the vocal lines and music of new songs. Thereafter for some time, Collette travelled frequently from her home in Melbourne to Sydney to work with Guy in developing songs. At about this time, Tony Briggs, an employee of CBS, suggested to Collette that, if she wished to obtain a contract with a recording company such as CBS, she ought to record what is called "a cover version" of a song, that is to say her own version of a song which has previously been recorded by another performer. Briggs subsequently gave Collette a tape containing four songs which he suggested would be suitable for cover versions. One of these tracks was "Ring My Bell" sung by Anita Ward.

Collette and Guy decided to record some of the songs which they had written and a cover version of "Ring My Bell". The facilities at Trackdown Studios were booked. Collette and Guy recorded three of their own songs and also "Ring My Bell". Collette sang the vocal lines while Guy produced the instrumental parts using a synthesizer. The tape that was produced was a "demo", that is to say it was of sufficient quality to play to a recording company or a publisher of music but was not of sufficient quality for commercial release.

Subsequently, at Briggs' suggestion, Collette made available to CBS through Briggs a copy of the Trackdown tape which included the new version of "Ring My Bell" ("the Trackdown version"). CBS then offered Collette a contract to sing a version of "Ring My Bell". Collette accepted the contract and the single which was produced, the CBS version, became a successful hit in Australia.

The case put on behalf of Guy is that the Trackdown version was an original work, though an arrangement of the Ward version, that copyright subsisted therein, that Guy was the author of the work and the owner of the copyright therein and that CBS had infringed the copyright by taking, copying and performing a substantial part of that work. CBS denies that the Trackdown version is an original musical work in which copyright subsists, denies that Guy is the author of any copyright therein and denies that it infringed any copyright that might subsist in the Trackdown version.

There is in evidence a tape containing the three versions of the song and I note that in Austin v. Columbia Gramophone Co Ltd at p 409 and Francis Day & Hunter Ltd & Anor v. Bron & Anor at p 594, 608, the importance of aural perception was emphasised. Collette and Guy each gave evidence as to the part each had played in the production of the Trackdown version. Amongst other witnesses, three experts, Dr G.B. Hair, Mr D.L. Williams and Mr M.J. Armiger were called on behalf of Guy and one expert, Mr R.W. Toop, was called on behalf of CBS. In general, for reasons which will become apparent, I prefer the evidence of Collette and Mr Toop to the evidence of Guy and the three experts called on his behalf.

I accept the view of Mr Williams that "the three pieces of composition are uniquely identifiable on account of their different instrumental arrangements." The principal focus of the case is thus the fact that in the Trackdown version and the CBS version Collette is the singer. She is a singer whose voice in its basic characteristics, its range and its capacities, is different from that of Anita Ward. The vocal elements of the Trackdown version and the CBS version are thus similar and markedly different from the vocal part of the Ward version.

In the opinion of Dr Hair, Mr Williams and Mr Armiger, the Trackdown version was an original work and the CBS version is a copy of it. Dr Hair gave this evidence:- "It seems to me for instance that the Anita Ward version is a black funky kind of version probably of an earlier time slightly than the others, and that the later is a sort of white middle class - if I may put it that way - yuppie kind of version. In other words, it has been an attempt to pitch it at a different ambience than the Anita Ward version...I mean, clearly the vocal line is much different. The Anita Ward version attempts - the Anita Ward version if I may say so is a much more subtle version than either of the other two versions in my opinion and I would value it artistically higher than either of the others and that is probably not the question here."

Dr Hair inferred that there must have been a deliberate compositional change:-"Well, it is my judgment that the kind of differences that there are must be a compositional factor rather than simply that the singer did it that way because of some physiological factor or something like that.
...
Well, I would say it is a deliberate attempt to make a different aesthetic type of product."

Mr Williams said this in an affidavit:-"In my opinion the Gross version differs significantly from the Anita Ward version particularly in respect of the cognizance it has taken of the singer's tessitura, pitch accuracy, rapidity of articulation, dynamic range and awareness of style. In respect of the singer's tessitura and pitch accuracy it is notable that the overall pitch range of the song in both the Gross version and the CBS version has had to be reduced from 23 semitones to only 10 semitones. It is significant that the amended pitch range of both the Gross version and the CBS version is identical."

Mr Williams concluded:-"The Gross arrangement preserves much of the 'feel' of the original song, but makes changes far too numerous for the two to be considered to be identical arrangements. However it is in my opinion obvious that the CBS version has relied heavily on the modifications to the Anita Ward version which were achieved in the Gross version. There are only four token changes between the Gross version and the CBS version in four separate measures containing the following lyrics:
(a) 'Miss me' (a retrograde inversion of two notes);
(b) 'Dishes' (same as for (a) above);
(c) 'Can rock-a-bye' (transposition up a perfect fourth of Gross modification); and
(d) 'For me and you' (phrase restructure)."

Mr Armiger's evidence was as to the same effect. In an affidavit, Mr Armiger said:-“After listening to these versions and examining the musical transcriptions of the melody lines I find that the Gross version differs from the Anita Ward version substantially in that most of the extended notes and phrases have been significantly reduced or altered, probably to accommodate the vocal style or ability of the intended singer.

“I also find that the CBS version is substantially the same as the Gross version and therefore substantially different from the Anita Ward version. It appears, from listening to the Gross version of the song, that some work has been done in adapting the vocal melody to the style, range and capabilities of the singer.

“It further appears, on listening to the CBS version (if this tape was made chronologically later than the Gross version), that the results of this work have been carried on into the CBS version with relatively little further adaptation."

Mr Toop, however, pointed to the fact, with which Messrs Hair, Williams and Armiger agreed in cross-examination, that the Trackdown and CBS versions of the song adopted the melody of the first two lines of the Ward version and repeated it without the elaboration which subsequently appears in Ward version. In his affidavit, Mr Toop said:-"RING MY BELL as it appears in the Sheet Music and as it can be heard in all three versions - in the Trackdown Version, the Anita Ward Version and the CBS Version - is a fairly simple song, using four-by-four 16-bar structures. The overall form is a very simple one, very common in popular music.

“The potentially four-square effect of this structure is somewhat alleviated by the fact
that each line of the verse (and many bars within each four-bar unit) makes use of a
commonly-used device called anacrusis, in which each phrase begins not on the first beat of the first bar of the unit, but on the last beat (known as the 'up-beat') of the preceding bar. The chorus also uses anacrusis, beginning three beats back into the previous bar (i.e. a three-beat 'up-beat'). ... in my opinion the first line of the first verse (third line of the Sheet Music) should be viewed as a simple statement of the basic contour of the verse melody. It uses a limited number of notes within a fairly small compass. Apart from a low G on the word 'you' at the end of the first line, in bar 11, the melody falls within a compass from the B flat below middle C to the G above middle C: the musical interval known as a major sixth. A melody using only this compass should be comfortably within the range of anyone who can sing at all.

“Secondly, once this basic melody line has been set out in line 1 of the song, Anita Ward progressively elaborates this basic line, in keeping with the black American 'funk' vocal tradition to which she apparently belongs.

“Much of what Anita Ward does by way of embellishment can be explained not only in terms of the particular musical tradition to which she belongs, but also by the text of the song. When, as at the beginning of most lines, there are only a couple of syllables in each phrase, there is plenty of scope for syncopation and additional ornamental notes. Where there are many words to sing in a bar (in RING MY BELL this typically happens in the second half of each line), the singer tends to stay on the beat, and there is relatively little scope for syncopation or additional notes. The way Anita Ward overcomes this limitation to her version of the song is by using the ends of lines (in the second verse) to display her considerable vocal agility and range.

“In my opinion the Trackdown Version and the CBS Version as sung by Ms Roberts take what may be called the line of least resistance to the song. That is, both these versions recycle the simplest forms of melody - as presented at the beginning of the Anita Ward Version - as far as possible, and do not attempt to emulate those subsequent embellishments which call for a higher level of rhythmic subtlety, pitching skills, and for a wide vocal compass. Instead of attempting to elaborate the basic melody in terms of a vocal tradition which is not hers, Ms Roberts essentially sings the basic melody on every line of the verse.

“This is by no means an unusual procedure. It is exactly what most people without aspirations to be professional singers do, often more or less inadvertently, if they enjoy 'singing along' with recorded songs. Where the singer on the recording is a professional artist belonging to a sophisticated branch of rock vocal performance such as black American funk, it would be well beyond the capacity of most people to duplicate any but the most basic inflections, syncopations and decorations. Nevertheless, where the song permits it, people can sing along using a simple underlying version of the tune such as that laid down by Anita Ward in line 1 of her version, before she sets about the business of elaboration. In my opinion, doing this does not amount to the creation of an original musical work, irrespective of whether it is done by the 'singing along' singer, or by someone directing that singer.

“I do not disagree that the overall vocal lines of the Trackdown Version and the CBS Version are substantially similar, and that both are substantially different to the Anita Ward Version. However, as I have stated in this Affidavit, I think the vocal lines of both the Trackdown Version and the CBS Version are substantially based, as far as the verses are concerned, on the first line of the Anita Ward Version."

Collette's evidence accords with Mr Toop's analysis. She gave this evidence:-

Q: What did you ask him (Guy) to do?

A: I asked him if he would like to write some songs with me, co-write, you know, 50/50 on the songs and he said yes and so we started writing together.
Q: I am sorry, your contribution was to be?

A: Well, I wrote the words and melody and I also sang bass lines to him which he would take by ear and put down into his Kurzweil machine.
Q: When you say the words, in the case of Ring my Bell---?

A: Well, the words were already there.

Q: And when you say the melody---?

A: Yes.
Q: What do you mean by that?

A: Exactly how the song is, the Ring My Bell, the original. You take the words and the melody. If you change the melody of a song it is no longer Ring My Bell, it is another song. So why would I change the melody of a song or anybody for that matter. Then you would not cover Ring My Bell, you would cover, you make up and write a new song of your own.
Q: Yes, but perhaps at least to my ear the version of Ring My Bell that was recorded at Trackdown for example does not bear a great resemblance to the version sung by Anita Ward?

A: That was the best I could do. I am not black and I am not very experienced and I
admit that. You know, I took from what I heard by ear and sung it that way like I do
with many other songs when I am listening to the radio.
Q: But when you say that you took the melody from the original version, the Anita Ward version, are you saying that the Trackdown version has the same melody as the Anita Ward version?

A: Definitely. Just the way that I did it was just a bit simple, that is all, but I would not say it is anything different, not for my ear anyway.

Collette said that she practiced by listening to the Anita Ward version. She gave this evidence:-

Q: In relation to the Anita Ward version. I think you said in that paragraph that you
listened to the Anita Ward version four times every night for two weeks?

A: Definitely, and I remember that very clearly because I had to practice before my sister's children went to bed.
Q: In the course of that listening, that must have been more than fifty times?

A: Four times - it is nearly fifty, maybe.

Q: Not terribly similar to the Anita Ward version?

A: Definitely similar because that is the whole idea of doing a cover, because I was
there when I saw Guy Gross take from the Anita Ward tape and put it into his Kurzweil, asking me, 'now we will listen to them both, is the sound similar?' and I would say yes and Guy said no, and he would say 'yes that sounds good,' and that was the way it was.

Q: There would be no point in doing a cover that was exactly the same as the original?

A: That is the whole idea of doing a cover. The whole idea was just to do a cover of that song as a demonstration tape. There was no need for anything else, that is it.

Collette's evidence finds support in the fact that she was the person who wrote down the words which she had to sing. They were not written down by Guy or notated by Guy. They were written down by Collette. In fact, she made a mistake and misheard the first two words of the song. This mistake was carried through into the Trackdown version, consistent with the point that Collette sang the song as she heard it and as best suited her, leaving substantially to Guy the development of the instrumental backing.

Guy's evidence that he composed the vocal part was not convincing. Guy's work was with the Kurzweil synthesiser and associated equipment. He gave this evidence:-

Q: What you put in the Kurzweil, after listening to the Anita Ward version a number of times, was a synthesised version of the instrumentation of the Anita Ward song?

A: That is not entirely accurate. It was more - certainly it was a synthesiser but it was not just a version. It was not a cut of what was on the cassette. It was created and published on my part, deciphering what was on the cassette and making my own decisions about ---
Q: What you put into the Kurzweil was the instrumental part of the song?

A: Of the song as I saw it?
Q: Yes, as you saw it?

A: As my version?

Q: Yes?

A: That is right.
Q: You did not put the vocal melody line in the Kurzweil, did you?

A: No.

His evidence provided little more detail in relation to his involvement with the vocal part than that from time to time he cued or pitched the first note of a line for Collette. In an affidavit, Guy said that he rewrote the first two words of the song and that these appeared in the Trackdown version. In cross-examination, however, Guy conceded that the first two words of the song were the result of Collette's error, not of his making.

The tapes themselves support the evidence of Mr Toop and of Collette. Collette sings the basic melody of "Ring My Bell" in a simple direct way. Much of the colour and variety which Anita Ward was able to give by her singing and which Collette could not reproduce or did not attempt to reproduce, were introduced by other means, as by emphasizing the sound of bells and by having a male voice sing a part of the song.

I am left with the impression that, insofar as Collette's vocal lines were concerned, they did not flow from a new composition of which Guy was the author but resulted from the fact that Collette sang "Ring My Bell" as best she could having regard to her style of singing, her limited range, the qualities of her voice and her experience.

As to whether any copyright subsists in the Trackdown version is a point of difficulty. For copyright in an arrangement to subsist, the differences from the work arranged must be such that a new original work can be identified. Differences resulting from mere interpretation, particularly differences brought about by an arrangement of a work to suit the qualities of a particular singer's voice, do not result in the creation of an original work. Particularly is this so in the area of popular music where the latitude given to a performer may be much greater than that in classical works, where the notes, phrasing, emphasis and the like tend to be specified in great detail. Creational composition is required to bring into being an original work.

In Interlego AG. v. Tyco Industries Inc & Ors, the Judicial Committee discussed the elements needed to give copyright protection to a work which was based upon and drew from existing material. Delivering the opinion of their Lordships, Lord Oliver, at p 260-1, cited the comments of Lord Atkinson in Macmillan & Co. Ltd v. Cooper at pp 188, 190:-"It is the product of the labour, skill, and capital of one man which must not be appropriated by another, not the elements, the raw material, if one may use the expression, upon which the labour and skill and capital of the first have been expended. To secure copyright for this product it is necessary that labour, skill and capital should be expended sufficiently to impart to the product some quality or character which the raw material did not possess, and which differentiates the product from the raw material.

“What is the precise amount of the knowledge, labour, judgment or literary skill or taste which the author of any book or other compilation must bestow upon its composition in order to acquire copyright in it within the meaning of the Copyright Act 1911 cannot be defined in precise terms. In every case it must depend largely on the special facts of that case, and must in each case be very much a question of degree."

At p 263 Lord Oliver went on to observe:-"... there is no more reason for denying originality to the depiction of a three-dimensional prototype than there is for denying originality to the depiction in two-dimensional form of any other physical object. It by no means follows, however, that which is an exact and literal reproduction in two-dimensional form of an existing two-dimensional work becomes an original work simply because the process of copying it involves the application of skill and labour. There must in addition be some element of material alteration or embellishment which suffices to make the totality of the work an original work. Of course, even a relatively small alteration or addition quantitatively may, if material, suffice to convert that which is substantially copied from an earlier work into an original work. Whether it does so or not is a question of degree having regard to the quality rather than the quantity of the addition. But copying, per se, however much skill or labour may be devoted to the process, cannot make an original work."

When an arrangement is copied or imitated as closely as possible by another performer or performers, the conclusion may, nevertheless, be readily drawn that there is copyright in the arrangement and that that copyright has been infringed: the first because "what is worth copying is prima facie worth protecting" per Peterson J in University of London Press Ltd v. University Tutorial Press Ltd at p 610 and the second because the whole of the arrangement has been taken. See the discussion of "sounds alike music" in The Modern Law of Copyright by Laddie, Prescott & Vitoria para 2.25.

All the witnesses gave most attention to the vocal sounds of the respective versions. Mr Williams and Mr Armiger concentrated their evidence on the vocal lines. Dr Hair, in his evidence, discussed the whole of the work. He thought there were differences both in the instrumental and the vocal parts but said, in the passage set out above "clearly, the vocal line is much different."

Mr Williams pointed out that, in the vocal part of the Ward version of the song, a range of 23 semitones is to be found whereas in the Trackdown version and the CBS version a range of only 10 semitones is to be found. But, if a singer has a limited range, as Collette has, she must reduce the range and must sing those parts of the melody as are within her capacities. As Mr Toop said, this is what every less qualified singer does when singing a song performed by a singer whose range is greater. To take such a step is not to create a new musical work but simply to interpret an existing work having regard to the singer's capability.

Mr Toop thought that originality did not lie in the vocal part of the Trackdown version. As to the instrumental backing, his impression was that in the Trackdown version virtually all of the elements which were involved in the instrumental backing relate to elements found in the Anita Ward version, though that is not to say that they sounded exactly the same. Nevertheless, Mr Toop almost conceded compositional originality in the instrumental backing of the Trackdown version. He gave this evidence:-

Q: And there would be some compositional skill required to go from the first to the
second?

A: There are certain aural skills required to go from the first to the second. Yes, I would say that the act of - and here I am actually referring very specifically to the
instrumental tracks on the Trackdown version - I would say to adapt the rather complex - the more complex resources, instrumental resources of the Anita Ward version to the requirements of simply a synthesiser or whatever else happens to be used, in other words, more modest technical resources, involves certain abilities to reproduce things on a simple scale which is a compositional ability.
Q: What about as between the Trackdown version and the Anita Ward version?

A: It seems to me that the skills involved to simplify the first parts of the Anita Ward version do not - again, if we - perhaps I should be clear. Are we talking here about the instrumental or the vocal line, because I do regard them as quite separate cases, I must say?

My impression is that the Trackdown version, if considered in its entirety, is the product of sufficient original skill and creative labour to sustain copyright. It is not just a copy of the Ward version. Independent judgment was applied to its creation. Original composition was required for the development of the instrumental backing so as to reflect principal elements of the Ward version yet to match the backing with Collette's style of singing. Were the Trackdown version to be faithfully copied or imitated by other performers, I would find it difficult to say that an original work was not infringed.

But this is not a case where a particular feature stands out, where an opera score has been rewritten for piano or where important new harmonisations have been composed. In the present case, I am unable to identify any such element. Copyright does not subsist in having a singer of Collette's style perform the song, for Collette's voice is not so unusual that its mere use in the song creates an original musical work. Indeed the idea originated with Tony Briggs of CBS. Nor does copyright lie in the development of a present day sound rather than the Anita Ward "funky" ambience for such a change is precisely what many present day singers would be likely to achieve in their interpretation of the song. The originality lies in a myriad of differences, rather than any specific feature, and therefore in the performance as a whole and not in any special or particular feature thereof.

Guy claims to be the owner of the copyright in the Trackdown version. However, he did not work alone on its development. Collette and Guy collaborated together. It was Tony Briggs who suggested the use of a male singer for a part of the song and who introduced that singer. Kirke Godfrey, a sound engineer at the Trackdown studios, made many suggestions and was responsible for the final "mix" of the many individual tracks which had been recorded. Thus, at most, Guy was a joint proprietor of the copyright in the Trackdown version.

Mr D.K. Catterns, counsel for CBS, submitted that, if there were copyright in the Trackdown version, copyright in the instrumental backing resided in Guy and copyright in the vocal part resided in Collette. But the work ought not to be divided in this way. The work was a song having vocal lines and an instrumental backing. There were not two pieces of music. The vocal and instrumental parts were elements which combined together to form a single work. Whether there may be separate copyright in each map of a street directory, as discussed by Hill J. in Universal Press Pty Ltd v. Provest Ltd & Brothers Publishing Pty Ltd (delivered 20 July 1989, unreported) or in each chapter of a novel, as mentioned in University of New South Wales v. Moorhouse & Anor, the present is not such a case.

Mr Catterns also submitted that Guy's claim must fall for the claim presented to the Court was that he had the sole copyright in the work. But it would be wrong to read the pleadings with such precision or to so limit the submissions made. Joint copyright, if infringed, would be sufficient to justify the threats made by Guy to CBS and would also be sufficient to found a grant of relief in favour of Guy. This was accepted by both counsel during the course of the hearing.

The CBS version has points of similarity with both the Ward version and with the Trackdown version. It is therefore necessary to examine with care what parts if any of the arrangement were taken and to examine whether those parts were elements protected by copyright in the Trackdown version.

Sections 13, 14, 31 and 36 of the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth) specify that infringement occurs if a substantial part of a work is reproduced, performed etc. These provisions must be applied in the light of the musical work to be protected. If a work is entirely original, the reproduction or performance of a very small but important part thereof may constitute infringement. See Hawkes & Son (London) Ltd v. Paramount Film Services Ltd. But in the present case, originality does not subsist in a particular element of the Trackdown version, which was itself a cover of the Ward version, but in the multitude of differences which exists between those two works. Infringement must be considered accordingly. To prove infringement it is not sufficient to establish that some of those differences are repeated in the allegedly infringing work. As Lord Pearce said in Ladbroke (Football) Ltd v. William Hill (Football) Ltd at p 293:-"Whether a part is substantial must be decided by its quality rather than its quantity. The reproduction of a part which by itself has no originality will not normally be a substantial part of the copyright and therefore will not be protected. For that which would not attract copyright except by reason of its collocation will, when robbed of that collocation, not be a substantial part of the copyright and therefore the courts will not hold its reproduction to be an infringement. It is this, I think, which is meant by one or two judicial observations that 'there is no copyright' in some unoriginal part of a whole that is copyright."

I am satisfied that CBS did not infringe the copyright. The alleged copying does not reside in the instrumental backing of the CBS version. CBS developed its own instrumental backing and did not copy the Trackdown version. Any similarity between the instrumental parts comes simply from the fact that they were developed at about the same time for the same vocalist and for the same type of audience.

Dr Hair, Mr Williams and Mr Armiger emphasised the similarity between the CBS vocal lines and the Trackdown vocal lines. Between the two there is considerable similarity. But this, of course, results from the fact that the same singer, Collette, in each sings the song in the style best suited to her.

The Trackdown version does not have copyright over Collette's voice. Therefore, when Collette, in the CBS version, sang the song "Ring My Bell" as she had earlier done in the Trackdown version, in a simple, direct way within the normal and limited range of her voice and in her usual style, she was not infringing copyright in the Trackdown version.

Indeed, it is worth noting that Guy did not make a claim for infringement of copyright until three months after the release of the CBS record. On 7 June 1989, his solicitors wrote to CBS:-"... our client assisted in the preparation of the arrangement of the music which is included in a record by Collette Roberts released by your company as a single and called 'Ring My Bell'."

Subsequently, on 16 June 1989, they wrote to CBS's solicitors:-"One further matter which we are now instructed to raise is that we have received advice that the melody sung by Collette Roberts in the song is a melody identical to that on the demonstration tape which was produced and arranged by our client and this melody is absolutely identifiable as original and distinct from the melody which was included in the original song 'Ring My Bell'. Our client will raise this additional matter of copyright in any proceedings he is obliged to commence."

Thus, breach of copyright based upon similarity between the vocal parts of the two arrangements was a late thought.

Mr M G Sexton, counsel for Guy, submitted that copying had necessarily occurred because Collette had learnt the song while developing the Trackdown version and because the sound engineer, Kirke Godfrey, who had worked on the Trackdown version, also assisted in the development of the CBS version. Mr Sexton submitted that Collette and Mr Godfrey must necessarily have been influenced by Guy's ideas and by his input into the composition of the Trackdown version.

However, I am satisfied that CBS set out to achieve and achieved its own arrangement of "Ring My Bell". The principal arranger was Pee Wee Ferris. I accept his evidence, which was not challenged, that he heard the Trackdown version only once and disliked it and, with Kirke Godfrey, decided to create a very different version of the original "Ring My Bell". This they did and the result was a successful hit.

It follows that CBS is entitled to the declaration and injunction which it seeks pursuant to s. 202 of the Copyright Act 1968 (Cth). In this event, CBS does not pursue the claim made for damages under s. 202 of the Copyright Act or orders under ss.80, 82 and 87 of the Trade Practices Act 1974 (Cth). The cross-claim for an injunction and for damages for infringement of copyright must be dismissed.

The cross-claim further claims the sum of $7,115.00 from Collette for work done and materials supplied. On 29 March 1989, Guy wrote to Collette as follows:-

"Dear Collette,
It was terrific seeing you on MTV last Friday night. An added pleasure for me was to hear you say that due to the demo I produced for you, you have secured a deal, and have been signed up with CBS. Congratulations. Enclosed please find an invoice for the work I have done for you on the demo. I realise that you are not expecting this invoice but by the same token I did not expect you to take my work and pursue your career alone as we had originally agreed to pursue this venture together.

I would appreciate prompt attention to this invoice, which will on payment, release you from any other obligations under our initial agreement."

Attached to that letter was an invoice for $7,115.00 which claimed $1225.00, being 35 hours at $35.00 per hour for studio time at Gross Studios, a total of $1890.00 for the hire of three instruments, a Kurzweil, a Macintosh and a Super JX keyboard and $4,000.00 for programming, arranging and producing four songs at $1,000.00 per song.

As Guy's letter foreshadowed, Collette was surprised to receive this invoice for there had been no agreement expressed or implied on her part to pay for work done by Guy or to pay for the hire or use of his studio and equipment. The evidence discloses that Collette and Guy agreed to collaborate in writing songs, that they agreed to record some songs and, at the suggestion of Mr Briggs, agreed to include as one of four songs recorded a cover of an existing work. Both understood that they would receive royalties if their songs were published or performed. That was the reward which Guy anticipated, not any payment by Collette for his contribution. Guy gave this evidence as to the benefit he anticipated from the cover version:-

Q: I suggest you were not happy with the idea of recording a cover version of it because if that were ultimately released you would not get a share of the performance and mechanical royalties?

A: I repeat, I was not unhappy to do that. I in fact realized that by doing this we had more chance of succeeding altogether because, as Collette explained to me, a cover
version is a very appetizing concept for a record company. In that case, even if it was released as a single, there was a hope that one side of the two-sided single would contain an original song?

Q: There was a hope? Yes?

A: Yes.
Q: You would have got half the royalties?

A: I would have, had I had a song on the B side.

Q: The B side is the other side of the single?

A: Yes. Further to that: there were discussions with Collette there, hoping
strongly that I would have a side on my B side, a side on the B side of the record.
Q: That would have suited you?

A: It would have been one way of receiving some sort of monetary reward from all this experience, yes.

There was no agreement between Collette and Guy that Collette would not have a career either as a singer or as a songwriter save in association with him and no agreement that Guy would be remunerated by Collette should Collette's career as a singer flourish.

It follows that the claim based upon contract and upon quantum meruit must fail. There was no agreement express or implied for the payment of remuneration.

The claim was also put by Mr Sexton on the footing of unjust enrichment. But there were no circumstances which would make it unfair for Collette to retain any reward she may get as the performer of the CBS version of "Ring My Bell" or otherwise from her singing career. Collette did not do anything unfair in relation to the demo tape produced at the Trackdown studios. It was understood that the tape would be made available to recording studios and others who might wish to take an interest in the songs. Guy himself gave this evidence:-

Q: The intention was that Collette would take the demo tape to music publishers and to record companies to get a publishing deal or a recording deal?

A: The intent was that, yes. There were other intentions but that was one.

Q: And the idea would be if all went well that a record company would sign her up to release records?

A: I would have thought sign both of us up. We both did the work.
Q: But in particular, answering my question, amongst other things to sign Collette up to release records?

A: Amongst other things, yes.

Collette and Guy had copyright in material on the demonstration tape. Had CBS chosen to copy that material, Collette and Guy would have received royalties. But CBS chose not to do so. CBS simply adopted the idea that Collette should do a version of "Ring My Bell", which was in any event the idea of Briggs. There was nothing unjust in what occurred, no reason why Guy should be remunerated by Collette for his work and no reason why Collette should not retain any benefit she may receive from CBS. The cross-claim will therefore be dismissed.

#280: He Hit Me (It Felt Like A Kiss) - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 1

2011-08-29T19:14:00.000+09:30

Adriano De Souza was working as a valet parking attendant at the Grill in the Alley (the Grill), a Beverly Hills restaurant. There he met Phil Spector’s chauffeur, who asked if De Souza wanted to work as Spector’s backup driver. De Souza agreed because he could make between $30 and $40 an hour driving for Spector. By February 2003, De Souza had driven Spector between 12 and 15 times over the course of three or four months.

These backup driving jobs were arranged by Michelle Blaine, Spector’s secretary, who would call De Souza a few hours before he was needed. De Souza would arrange for someone to cover his shift at the Grill and then drive his own car to Spector’s house in Alhambra. After going through the main entrance gate, De Souza would drive to the back of the house, park, prepare Spector’s car and wait for him to come out. Spector had two cars, a Rolls Royce and a brand new Mercedes. De Souza testified Spector would tell him where to drive and that he always understood Spector’s directions. He and Spector communicated easily, although if Spector had been drinking he was sometimes hard to understand.

De Souza had been born in Brazil and he grew up there. He began studying English in school when he was 11 or 12 years old. In college he earned a B.A. degree in computer science. The instructional materials for his computer courses were in English. He had served for eight or nine years in the Brazilian military. On Sunday afternoon, February 2, 2003, Blaine called and asked De Souza to drive for Spector that night. De Souza arrived at Spector’s house in the early evening and prepared the Mercedes. Spector got into the car carrying a leather briefcase and told De Souza to drive to Studio City, where his friend Rommie Davis lived. Davis had gone to high school with Spector and then met him again years later at a high school reunion. During 2002, they occasionally went out to dinner together, but they were not romantically involved.

De Souza picked Davis up and then drove to the Grill. Spector and Davis went inside for dinner. Spector had one daiquiri and at least part of another during dinner. When he ordered the second daiquiri, Davis “suggested that it wasn’t a good idea because he was acting silly.” Spector ignored her and continued to drink. He appeared to be a little drunk. They finished dinner between 9:30 and 10:00 p.m. Davis wanted to get to bed early because she had to work the next day.

Kathy Sullivan was working at the Grill that night as a server. She first met Spector in 1997 and had socialized with him occasionally for a year or two, always in the company of her friend, Susan. Sullivan and Susan would visit Spector at his Alhambra house. Sullivan testified her relationship with Spector was entirely platonic and had never been romantic; she described Spector as acting “fatherly” toward her. She stopped visiting him when she lost touch with Susan in 1999. Then, after Susan came to work at the Grill, Sullivan would sometimes see Spector at the restaurant.

On Sunday night, February 2, 2003, Sullivan greeted Spector and Davis when they came into the Grill. After finishing her shift, Sullivan was eating when another restaurant employee came over and asked if she and her co-worker Karen wanted to join Spector for a drink. Karen declined, but Sullivan went over to Spector’s table and then accepted his invitation to go to Trader Vic’s. Spector and De Souza took Davis home and returned to the Grill to pick up Sullivan. De Souza and Sullivan knew each other because they both worked at the Grill.

At Trader Vic’s, Spector and Sullivan went to the bar. Spector ordered and drank a Navy Grog and Sullivan had an Amaretto sour. Spector ordered a second Navy Grog, but may have taken no more than a sip of it. Then they returned to the Mercedes. Sullivan said she was tired, but Spector wanted company at Dan Tana’s restaurant. Because Dan Tana’s was located between Trader Vic’s and Sullivan’s apartment, Spector had De Souza drive Sullivan to her car. Sullivan dropped her car off at her Hollywood apartment and got back into the Mercedes.

De Souza arrived at Dan Tana’s Restaurant about 12:30 a.m. There, Spector ordered a daiquiri and Sullivan ordered another Amaretto sour. They ate some food and ordered a second round of drinks. Spector then suggested going on to the House of Blues. Sullivan agreed, although she really wanted to go home.

At the House of Blues, Spector tried to get into the Foundation Room, a private VIP section of the club. Euphrates Lalondriz, who worked at the House of Blues doing security, testified he had been training Lana Clarkson to be a hostess and a security officer for the Foundation Room. Working security at the Foundation Room involved taking care of the VIP clientele and checking wristbands to make sure only properly authorized people were allowed in. Spector was a VIP client of the Foundation Room.

Clarkson stopped Spector and Sullivan from entering the Foundation Room because they weren’t wearing the appropriate wrist bands. Spector said, “Do you know who I am?” Sophia Holguin, one of the cocktail waitresses, told Clarkson the man was Phil Spector, a music producer and a multimillionaire. She asked Clarkson to be sure to give Spector a seat in her section because he had previously left her a big tip.

Clarkson seated Spector and Sullivan on a sofa in Holguin’s section, and told them if they were going to order drinks they had to hurry because it was late. Holguin took their orders. Spector ordered Bacardi 151, an expensive rum which had double the proof of regular rum. Spector tried to order a drink for Sullivan, but she just wanted water. According to Holguin, Spector seemed irritated and upset by this. In an aggressive, agitated manner, he told Sullivan to “just order a fucking drink,” but Sullivan insisted she only wanted water. Sullivan testified Spector “took the hint and said, “Oh, you want to go home. Fine. I’ll have my driver take you home.” Sullivan initially thought Spector was being “perceptive and thoughtful,” but then he shouted “Get Lana” and, when Clarkson came over, he said “I’m sending Kathy home.” This made Sullivan “feel like crap” because Spector made it sound like he was dismissing her. Clarkson escorted Sullivan to the Mercedes. Clarkson told De Souza to take Sullivan home and then bring the car right back.

Meanwhile, Holguin served the water intended for Sullivan. Spector said, “I don’t want it. I don’t want that fucking water.” Spector downed his drink in one swallow. He appeared to have drunk a lot of alcohol and he “definitely appeared intoxicated.” Spector asked Holguin to have a drink with him. When she explained she could not drink with him because she was working, Spector asked her to go home with him. Holguin said she couldn’t because she had something to do the next day. Holguin testified Spector was “hitting on” her, and that he was also hitting on Clarkson.

After Sullivan left, Clarkson came into the room, fluffing up the pillows on the couch and making small talk with Spector. Holguin testified this was not how Clarkson usually behaved with customers, and it seemed she was doing it because she had learned Spector was a wealthy VIP. At one point, Spector commented that Clarkson was “acting like fucking Charlie Chaplin.” He told her to just calm down and have a drink with him. Clarkson had to get permission from her manager, who said she could sit with Spector but not have a drink. After Spector finished his Bacardi 151, he asked for another drink. Holguin said she needed her manager’s approval because of the time. The manager refused to approve any more alcohol and Holguin closed out Spector’s tab.

Lalondriz walked into the Foundation Room just as Clarkson, who had completed her job duties for the night, was about to leave. Spector asked if she needed a ride and Clarkson said yes. Spector then asked, “Do you want to go to the house so we could talk?”, but Clarkson said she just wanted a ride to her car.

Spector and Clarkson left the House of Blues at about 2:20 a.m. While they were standing by the Mercedes, De Souza heard Spector say, “Let’s go to the Castle, let’s go to the Castle.” This was a reference to Spector’s Alhambra house, a replica of a Pyrenees castle which had been built in 1926. Clarkson again declined. She said she was tired and she could get into trouble if she left with a client. She asked Spector to take her to a parking structure near the House of Blues so she could retrieve her car. Spector agreed. They got into the Mercedes and De Souza drove to the parking structure.

Spector said he needed a bathroom and Clarkson said he could go behind one of the walls. When De Souza stopped, Spector got out and urinated behind a wall inside the parking structure. Clarkson got her car and De Souza followed her as she parked it on the street nearby. Clarkson then got back into the Mercedes, telling De Souza she was just going for a drink. Spector got upset and screamed, “Don’t talk to the driver, don’t talk to the driver.”

De Souza drove Spector and Clarkson to Spector’s house. During the drive, De Souza smelled alcohol coming from the back of the Mercedes. Spector and Clarkson were watching a DVD, and talking and laughing. De Souza got to the house at about 3:00 a.m. He dropped Spector and Clarkson in front of the house and then drove around to the back, where he parked in a motor court just six feet from the rear door of the house. De Souza collected some things that had been left in the back of the Mercedes, including Spector’s leather briefcase, cell phones and a DVD player.

Spector came out the back door a short time later and De Souza handed him the DVD player. De Souza then walked to the open back door, reached inside, and put Spector’s briefcase onto a chair that was sitting next to the entrance. De Souza did not see or hear Clarkson at this time. Spector went back into the house and closed the door.

At about 3:20 a.m., De Souza got back into the Mercedes to wait until it was time to give Clarkson a ride back to Hollywood. Around 5:00 a.m., De Souza was startled by a sharp noise which sounded like a pow or a bang. He got out of the Mercedes to investigate. For two or three minutes he looked around, but he couldn’t find anything, so he got back into the car and shut the door. A few seconds later, Spector opened the back door. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing earlier that night: black pants, a black shirt, and a white or cream colored jacket. De Souza got out of the Mercedes because he thought it was time to give Clarkson a ride. Spector stepped out onto the back porch and De Souza could see he was holding a revolver in his right hand. Spector said, “I think I killed somebody.” De Souza testified he did not have any trouble hearing what Spector said.

De Souza thought he saw a “little bit of blood” on Spector’s right index finger. Behind Spector, De Souza could see a woman’s legs through the open back door. When he stepped to one side to get a better view, he could see Clarkson’s entire body. She was sitting slumped in a chair, sort of half in the chair and half on the floor, with her legs extended out in front of her. There was blood on her face. De Souza asked Spector what happened. Spector shrugged his shoulders but he didn’t say anything. He had a blank look on his face.

De Souza got scared when he realized Clarkson might be dead and he started running away from the house. He tried to use his cell phone, but he was so disoriented he couldn’t manage it at first. Then he ran back to the Mercedes, got in and drove to the main entrance gate. When he calmed down enough to use his cell phone, De Souza called Michelle Blaine, Spector’s secretary, because her number had been programmed into his cell phone. He called Blaine because he didn’t know Spector’s street address, which he wanted so he could give it to the police. When Blaine did not pick up, De Souza left her the following message: “Michelle. Michelle. It’s Adriano, Michelle. Michelle, I have to – you have to come to, to Mr. Phillip’s house. I think he killed some – a lady. Please call me, call me back. I’m gonna call the police right now.”

De Souza found Spector’s address posted on a sign outside the front gate and he called 911. The call was recorded at 5:02 a.m. De Souza told the CHP dispatcher, “I think my boss killed somebody.” Asked why he believed there had been a killing, De Souza said: “Because . . . he have a lady on the, on the floor and he have a gun in, in his hand.” After the dispatcher transferred the call to the Alhambra Police Department, the following exchange occurred:

ALHAMBRA: Okay. So have you seen your boss?

DE SOUZA: Yes. He had, he had the gun in his hand.

The first officer to respond to the shooting scene was Alhambra Police Officer Brandon Cardella. He saw De Souza standing next to a black Mercedes, waving his arms frantically. De Souza told Cardella he heard a gunshot and then saw Spector with a gun in his hand. According to his police report, which Cardella wrote less than two hours later, De Souza said he heard Spector say, “I think I just kill [sic] her.”

Police witnesses testified De Souza was not allowed to go back up to Spector’s house. At about 8:30 a.m., De Souza was interviewed by Alhambra Police Officers Esther Pineda and Garrett Kennedy. De Souza told them he saw Spector with a revolver in his right hand and heard him say, “I think I killed somebody.” De Souza described seeing Clarkson: “She was, I think, half in the – in the chair and half on the floor,” and she had blood on the left side of her face.

De Souza was subsequently interviewed at the Alhambra Police Department by Detectives Paul Fournier and Rich Tomlin at about 9:45 a.m. that same morning. De Souza said that when he picked up Spector and Clarkson from the House of Blues, Spector was “completely drunk.” De Souza said that when Spector came out the back door he had a gun in his hand and he said, “ „I think I, I, I killed somebody.”

Officer Cardella interviewed De Souza for about three to five minutes as part of his initial assessment. Four other police units responded to the Castle. The officers set up a command post just north of the front of the entry gate and coordinated their roles. They created an entry team of five officers, with Officer Cardella in the lead holding a ballistic shield, Corporal P.4 behind Officer Cardella with a Taser and an MP5 submachine gun, Officer Hammond next with a standard-issue sidearm gun, Officer Tamayo with a shotgun, and last, Officer Rodriguez with a standard-issue sidearm gun.

The entry team of officers walked up the driveway through the front gate in single file, Officer Cardella in front with the shield. The team stopped at the top of the first building, a stand-alone garage. The team entered the garage to clear it for other suspects and search it for any other persons needing aid. Officer Cardella posted himself at the doorway at the northwest corner of the garage to cover the other officers and faced the rear door of the house next to the fountain. Officer Tamayo posted near the corner of the house. Officer Hammond, Corporal P., and Officer Rodriguez went inside the garage.

While Officer Cardella waited at the garage doorway, he saw Spector about 60 feet away on the second story of the house through the windows. Spector was moving back and forth. Spector went onto the second floor landing inside the house for about 15 to 25 seconds. With his back turned away from Officer Cardella, Spector would pace and then stop, arms crossed, positioning “his hands like he was thinking,” looking downward as if he were trying to figure out what to do.

Officer Cardella notified his team about Spector so that they could quickly go into the house and address him. The team exited and told Officer Cardella that there was no one in the garage. Officer Hammond returned to Officer Cardella’s position at the door of the garage. There, Officer Hammond also saw Spector with his back turned towards him standing inside the house on the second floor landing above the rear door. Spector had his arms crossed over each other at the upper torso area. Spector’s head was directed downward toward where Clarkson was eventually found slumped in a chair. At this point, the officers’ position was still concealed.

About five or ten seconds after Officer Hammond saw him at the second floor landing, Spector went down the stairs to the doorway of the rear entrance. A short time later, Spector went outside out of the south, rear door, which was already opened, to the top of the outside stairs. The officers were still positioned at the garage, about 40 to 50 feet away from appellant. Spector was standing there, looking at the officers, frantic and anxious, hands in his pockets. He did not ask for help.

He made some statements, his voice slurred. The police started to come up the stairs to shorten their distance with appellant. They loudly told him that they were the Alhambra Police Department.

Trying to get Spector away from the house, Officer Cardella at least three times commanded that he take his hands out of his pockets, raise them in the air, and step toward the officers. The first time, Officer Cardella’s command was loud, serious, and authoritative. Spector did not comply the first time with Officer Cardella’s command. The second time, Officer Cardella injected an expletive to get Spector to pay attention, forcefully and loudly telling him, “Get your fucking hands out of your pockets.” After this second command, Spector quickly pulled his hands out of his pockets, raised them to shoulder level, and then abruptly placed them right back into his pockets. Spector blankly stared and did not step forward.

Officer Cardella then loudly issued a third command for Spector to get his hands out of his pockets and to walk toward the officers. Spector did not comply with this third command. Other than the time that Spector briefly pulled his hands out of his pockets and then put them back in, Spector did not comply with any of the three commands. About 20 feet away from the officers, Spector said in a slightly slurred voice, “Hey, guys, you’ve got to come see this.” Spector turned his back on the officers and returned inside the house. Officer Cardella and the rest of the entry team decided to move into the house in order to keep Spector in their sights. With Officer Tamayo staying back, the other officers followed Spector into the residence in single-file formation, continuing forward to make sure they could keep sight of him. Officer Cardella was again in front with a shield, Corporal P. behind him, and Officer Hammond third in line.

When the officers reached the threshold of the door, Spector had stopped inside the foyer, his back toward them. Spector’s hands were in his pockets and he was “gazing inward...” Standing in the doorway, Officer Cardella saw Clarkson slumped with blood on her chest as depicted in a photograph later taken of the scene. Two or three more times, Officer Cardella ordered Spector to take his hands out of his pockets and put them into the air. Spector turned around and saw the officers but did not comply with these commands. Corporal P., who was behind Officer Cardella, used his Taser on appellant. The Taser did not work; Spector was not subdued. So, the officers rushed into the foyer and charged Spector in single file with Officer Cardella in the lead. When Officer Cardella entered the house, he heard “weird” organ music playing throughout.

In front of the entrance, Officer Cardella hit Spector with the shield in order to knock him off balance, causing Spector to fall backwards onto the ground. When doing so, Officer Cardella veered to the left because he wanted to push Spector away from Clarkson’s body and not have anything fall on or disrupt it. The officers jumped on Spector to subdue him, taking him toward the staircase to the left of Clarkson. Spector passively resisted while being handcuffed. There were further police commands, “Give me your hand, stop resisting, give me your hands.” It took some effort to get one of Spector’s arms from beneath him. At about 5:42 a.m., Corporal P. managed to subdue Spector and get him in handcuffs.

Turning his attention to Clarkson, Officer Cardella approached her and noticed that she was not breathing. Officer Cardella said, “Are you okay? Are you okay?” Officer Cardella checked Clarkson’s pulse without moving her arm by gently feeling her left wrist with three fingers. Officer Cardella found Clarkson’s wrist cool to the touch with no pulse.

The officers found Clarkson’s body slumped in a chair in a foyer near the back door. Her legs were extended straight out in front of her and her left arm hung down by her side. Her right hand was draped over the right arm of the chair, resting on a purse. The purse straps “were wrapped around her shoulder, and somewhat twisted, and then wrapped around the right-hand arm of the chair twisted in an unnatural fashion.” There was blood on her face and blood on her chest.

Underneath Clarkson’s left calf was a .38-caliber, six-shot Colt Cobra revolver. The gun was loaded with five live rounds and there was a spent round under the hammer. The gun was bloody. There was blood on both sides of the wooden grips, on the trigger guard, on the frame directly in front of the wooden grips, and on the metal strap securing the grips. A part of Clarkson’s artificial tooth had lodged in the front sight of the gun. More pieces of artificial tooth were found on the floor across the foyer from Clarkson’s body.

Next to Clarkson was a bureau or side table. One of its drawers was partially open. Inside this drawer there was a leather holster. The Colt Cobra fit into this holster. Six feet to the left of Clarkson’s body was a leather valise sitting on a chair. The valise had the initials “PS” and it contained various personal items, including a three-pack of Viagra, of which only one of the original three pills remained. Underneath the valise was a small portable DVD player. There were two working cell phones clipped to the outside pockets of the valise. There was also another phone in the foyer. There was blood on the doorknob and on the latch bolt assembly of the back door. The thumb lever for the dead bolt was in the off position and did not have any blood on it, which meant it had not necessarily been touched at the same time or by the same hand that left bloodstains on the doorknob and the latch bolt.

There was a formal living room off the foyer. This room was very dark, with the only light coming from some candles on top of the fireplace. On a coffee table, there was an almost empty bottle of Tequila and a brandy snifter containing alcohol. Background music was playing. There was a small bathroom nearby. In the bathroom, there was a matching brandy snifter containing a small amount of alcohol. A pair of false eyelashes was sitting on top of the toilet tank. On the floor of the bathroom there was a one white cotton Curity brand diaper covered with blood on both sides. This diaper had also been soaked with water. The diaper was about 10 inches in front of an open toilet.

On the second floor of the house was the master bedroom. Inside the bedroom closet was a white jacket stained with blood. This jacket was lying crumpled on the closet floor. Sean Hecker, an officer with the Alhambra Police Department, responded to the crime scene and was asked to escort Spector, who already had been taken into custody, to the police station. Hecker did so and also obtained gunshot residue samples from Spector’s hands. During that process, Spector told Hecker he was right handed. Hecker did not notice any blood on Spector’s hands.

Jaime Lintemoot, a criminalist with the Los Angeles County Coroner’s Office, was part of the Coroner’s response team that analyzed the crime scene. Lintemoot collected blood swabs from Clarkson’s hands and wrists. She took one swab from “the backside of the right wrist” where she saw “red, mist-like drops consistent with blood.” She collected two sets of swabs from Clarkson’s left hand: “One . . . from the backside of the wrist of the left hand, and the other was from the inside of the wrist.” Lintemoot testified: “There were two regions on which I thought there was possible blood. One was the backside of the wrist, and this consisted of the fine, mist-like spots. The other area . . . appeared to be . . . a larger area and appeared to be more of a smear.” By “smear” Lintemoot meant a contact or transfer bloodstain.

Regarding Clarkson’s purse, Lintemoot testified: “It was a leopard print purse with a long black strap, and the black strap was going over the decedent’s right arm. The purse was resting on the floor. The interesting thing was that the purse was rotated almost . . . 180 degrees. The back of the purse strap appeared to have caught the edge of the seat or the arm of the chair and got flipped around when it landed.”

#279: River Deep, Mountain High - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 2

2011-08-28T17:26:00.004+09:30

Vincent Tannazzo testified that, after retiring from the New York City Police Department, he started a private security company. One of his clients was Joan Rivers. Tannazzo was acquainted with Dorothy Melvin because she was Rivers’s manager, and he knew Melvin had been dating Spector. Sometime between 1991 and 1994, while providing security for a Christmas party hosted by Rivers, Tannazzo was stationed in the lobby of her New York City apartment building, checking visitors against the guest list. At one point during the party, Melvin telephoned Tannazzo, upset, and said, “Vinnie, get up here. Phil Spector just pulled out a gun.” Tannazzo unholstered his gun, put it in his jacket pocket, and took the elevator up toward Rivers’s apartment.

When the elevator doors opened at the second floor, Tannazzo saw Spector and Melvin arguing. Spector was “out of control” and he “kept saying these fucking cunts, these fucking cunts, over and over again.” not directing his words at her. Melvin was telling Spector to calm down. Tannazzo did not think Spector was directing his anger at Melvin. While in the elevator with Tannazzo and Melvin, Spector repeatedly said, “These fucking cunts,” Tannazzo repeatedly told Spector, who was loud and “out of control,” to calm down.

On the way down, Tannazzo lightly patted Spector down for a gun and felt a .38-caliber revolver on the right side of his waistband underneath his jacket. Spector was still ranting, using “the ‘C’ word,” when Melvin told Tannazzo, “Vinnie, put him in a car, get him out of here.” In the lobby, Spector was still muttering “Those fucking cunts.” Spector stopped, turned, and moved his hand in the direction of his pocket and waistband where the gun was. Tannazzo told him “if he pulled out that gun I’d blow his fucking brains out.” Spector replied, “I’m cool, I’m cool. I love cops. . . . All I want is my keyboard.” Tannazzo and Spector went outside to Spector’s limousine and sent the driver to retrieve the keyboard from Rivers’s apartment. While waiting for the driver to return, Spector showed Tannazzo a gun permit and said, “I have permits for all over the place. Everywhere I go, I carry a piece.” Then Spector said, “These fucking cunts, they all deserve a bullet in their heads.” Asked if Spector appeared to be joking, Tannazzo testified, “Oh, absolutely not.” When the driver returned with the keyboard, Spector left.

One year later, Tannazzo was again working security for Joan Rivers’s annual Christmas party, which Spector and Melvin separately arrived at. About an hour after Spector went up to the party, the elevator doors opened to the lobby. Spector and Melvin exited the elevator, arguing. Spector kept saying, “That fucking cunt, that fucking cunt, that fucking cunt,” but not at Melvin. He was yelling, and out of control. Melvin told Spector to calm down and told Tannazzo something like, “Vinnie, get him out of here, put him in the car.” After another woman came out of the elevator into the lobby, Spector looked at her, took a couple of steps toward her, and yelled, “That fucking cunt, I ought to put a bullet in her head right now.” Tannazzo grabbed Spector by his lapels, and said, “That’s fucking it.” Tannazzo forcibly took Spector out of the building to his limousine and put him in the back, where Melvin joined him before the car pulled away.

#278: Be My Baby - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 3

2011-08-28T09:24:00.001+09:30

In the spring or early summer of 1991, Melissa Grosvenor, a waitress in New York, developed a “romantic but platonic” dating relationship with Phil Spector. At this time, Spector was living in a penthouse suite of a New York hotel but also kept a home in Pasadena.

In October 1992, about a year and a half after Grosvenor and Spector began dating, she accepted Spector’s invitation to come to California to see him. Sometime between November 1992 and early 1993, Grosvenor flew on a plane to Los Angeles using a ticket Spector bought for her, arriving at the Los Angeles International Airport at about 1:00 p.m. At the airport, a driver picked her up and took her to a hotel in Pasadena that Spector had arranged for her to stay at.

Sometime before 9:00 p.m., Spector’s driver picked up Spector and Grosvenor and took them to a restaurant at the Beverly Hills Hotel. They had dinner there, and both ordered alcoholic drinks. Spector drank his drink. Their dinner was pleasant and lasted between an hour and an hour and a half. After dinner, they went back to Spector’s house in Pasadena, arriving there at about 11:00 p.m. Grosvenor was tired and had jet lag. At Spector’s house, in a great room, he fixed himself and Grosvenor a drink and then played music. Spector drank his drink but Grosvenor did not drink hers because she was tired. At this time, Spector had had more than two drinks and was “a bit drunk.”

Between 1:00 a.m. and 2:00 a.m., Grosvenor was very tired and decided that the evening with Spector had come to a conclusion. Still in the great room, Grosvenor told Spector that she wanted to leave. Spector’s whole demeanor changed. He appeared angry, enraged.

Spector turned and looked at Grosvenor, pointed his finger in her face, and said, “What? You want to go?” Spector said, “You just wait. Wait right there.” Spector left. Grosvenor sat down and waited for Spector to come back. A couple minutes later, Spector returned, holding a handgun in his right hand. Spector walked up to Grosvenor and pointed the gun at her face, the barrel a couple of inches away. Spector said, “If you try [to] leave, I’m going to kill you.” Spector put the gun into the shoulder holster that he was wearing. He was tapping the holster, rambling, and walking back and forth from where Grosvenor was sitting. Spector angrily made statements like, “You think you’re leaving. You’re not going to leave,” except with profanity.

Grosvenor started crying and was very upset and afraid for her life. She believed that the gun was loaded and feared that he would shoot her if she tried to leave. Grosvenor stayed in the chair and did not say anything, closing her eyes because she was scared. At some point, totally exhausted, Grosvenor fell asleep, crying.

About five hours later, Grosvenor awoke to Spector tapping her on the foot. It was daylight. Spector did not have the shoulder holster on and was not holding the gun. Spector was “back to normal,” as Grosvenor knew him before the previous evening. Spector asked if Grosvenor would like to get some breakfast. Grosvenor said yes because she knew that was a way to get out of the house and because she could ask for help at a restaurant. They went to a diner where Grosvenor felt safer. She flew back to New York that day.

#277: To Know Him Is To Love Him - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 4

2011-08-27T16:12:00.001+09:30

In 1982, after having several dinners with Phil Spector and others at La Maganet in Beverly Hills, Dianne Ogden agreed to have dinner alone with Spector there one evening at about 9:00 or 10:00 p.m. During dinner, Spector drank alcohol. Ogden then agreed to see Spector’s home in Beverly Hills.

Ogden and Spector went inside his house. After talking and seeing Spector’s house, Ogden told him that she needed to go home and had to work the next day. Spector did not want her to go home. He “disappeared”––ran off and left Ogden alone. Ogden got ready to leave and put her purse over her shoulder. She heard a buzz; Spector had locked the door on her. She pleaded with Spector to go home. She had never seen Spector act this way before. She was worried but also considered that she had known him for a few months and thought that he was just playing with his door and his buzzer. She begged Spector a couple more times. After 30 minutes, Spector finally unlocked the door, and Ogden left.

From that time in 1982, until 1988, Spector and Ogden kept in touch. Spector would send Ogden birthday messages and was sweet, kind, and considerate. In 1988, between jobs, Ogden accepted Spector’s offer to be his paid assistant.

In March 1989, Ogden went to Spector’s party in Pasadena. Spector drank alcohol at the party. At about midnight, when people were leaving, Ogden told Spector that she was going to go home. Spector did not want her to leave yet. He went away and left Ogden alone. She put her purse on her arm. Spector went over to Ogden, placed a rifle on her right side, and screamed at her, “You’re not fucking leaving.” Ogden felt that this was “not my Phil” and “not the man I loved.” They had been good friends for eight years.

Ogden sat down and said, “Please don’t do that.” Spector pointed a pistol at Ogden “all over” her, repeatedly touching the right side of Ogden’s face with the gun. Spector screamed at her, over and over again telling her that he was going to “blow [her] brains out.” Spector screamed “the ‘F’ word” and “bitch.” Ogden pleaded with Spector to let her go home and put the gun down, but he refused. She thought that Spector was going to kill her.

While pointing the gun at Ogden, Spector demanded that she go upstairs to his bedroom. She went upstairs to Spector’s bedroom while he walked behind her. At gunpoint, Spector had her take off some of her clothes and tried to have intercourse with her; he “wanted to rape” her. Ogden found it “icky because it wasn’t him.” She spent the night in Spector’s bed but did not want to be there.

A week or two later, Ogden received telephone messages from Spector, none of which made any reference to the events of that night. She tried to rationalize what had happened. A few months after the incident, Ogden forgave Spector and saw him again at his Pasadena house with his music publisher, Alan Klein, and his son Jody, whom Ogden knew. After the Kleins left, Ogden started to leave. Once again, Spector went away and left her alone. From behind Ogden, Spector screamed, “You’re not going anywhere. I can’t stand the sound of your voice.” Spector said, “I have an Uzi here. I am going to kill you.” Ogden said, “What are you talking about?” Spector was holding an Uzi in his hand. Ogden said, “Phillip, stop it. I am just going to go home and don’t do this to me again. Please. You’re drinking too much. Just go back in the house.” Spector said, “No.” Ogden ran toward her car. Spector ran after her while holding his Uzi. She got into her car and started it up with the window closed. Spector banged the Uzi on her window while yelling. Ogden escaped by driving away fast, ducking because she thought he was going to shoot through her back window, while hoping her car would not hit a tree.

#276: Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 5

2011-08-25T17:40:00.003+09:30

Beginning on June 23, 1975, Devra Robitaille, a British pianist, worked for Phil Spector for about four to four-and-a-half years as the administrative director of his label, Warner-Spector Records. Robitaille idolized Spector and thought he was a genius. About a year after Robitaille began working with Spector, they began a romantic relationship, which, for her, was an extramarital affair. During this relationship, Robitaille frequently organized parties for Spector at his home in Beverly Hills.

At one of these parties, after the other guests had gone home, Robitaille stood in the foyer, very tired and wanting to leave. The door was locked so she asked Spector if he would let her out. Spector left the foyer for a few minutes. While Robitaille was ready to leave, looking at the door and wearing her purse and jacket, she felt the cold barrel of a gun at her left temple. Robitaille turned and saw the gun; Spector held it with two hands at her left temple.

Spector had been drinking alcohol that night and was very drunk. Spector said, “If you try to leave, I’m going to blow your fucking head off.” Robitaille told Spector that she had to leave. Holding the gun at her head, Spector swore and shouted at Robitaille, with different permutations of “I’m going to blow your head off. I’ll blow your brains out. You can’t leave. I’m not unlocking the door.” Robitaille stood her ground and said, “Just stop it. This is ridiculous. I just want to go home.” After “a little moment of suspension,” Spector went from being maniacal to being “Phil again” with a diffused demeanor. Spector got the keys, unlocked the door, and let Robitaille go.

Robitaille felt disrespected and violated from this incident. Her affair with Spector stopped and their relationship became solely a business one. About a year after this incident, she quit working for Spector for the last time because their work relationship had deteriorated. Eventually, in June 1980, she returned to England and had a successful musical career there for five or six years.

In 1986, Robitaille returned to the United States because her musical career was beginning “to peter out.” In Los Angeles, she re-established contact with Spector and accepted a part-time job working for him in Los Angeles.

On one occasion in 1986, Robitaille went to a party at Spector’s house, a different house than she had been to in 1975. When Robitaille arrived, she was sequestered in another room as she typically was as his employee at Spector’s parties. After many hours, possibly at about dawn, when everyone else had gone, Robitaille was very tired and decided that it was time for her to leave. The door was locked.

Robitaille found Spector and said, “Please, I really need to go home. Let me out.” Spector was drunk. Robitaille stood in the foyer with her purse, wanting to leave. After a “sort of time of nothing,” Spector suddenly pointed a shotgun at her face, holding it with both hands. The shotgun appeared to be similar to the one that Spector pointed at Robitaille’s temple in the 1975 incident. Robitaille thought, “Oh, not again. I can’t believe it.” Spector was swearing, saying “f’ing” a lot, and making threats like “I’ll blow your head off. I’ll shoot you. I’ll kill you. I’ll blow your brains out. I could shoot you right now.” Robitaille told Spector to put down the gun and unlock the door and let her leave. This incident seemed like it went on for hours and was more protracted than the first incident. At one point, Spector went away. Robitaille stood there in the lobby, not knowing what to do, still unable to leave.

Spector returned to Robitaille. The situation “started to unwind, and the tension broke again like it had the first time . . . .” Again, Spector had a “switch” in mood. Spector unlocked the door and Robitaille hurried away.

#275: Da Do Ron Ron - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 6

2011-08-24T16:46:00.002+09:30

In about April 1994, Stephanie Jennings, a professional photographer with a focus in the music business, began a long-distance dating relationship with Phil Spector. Jennings lived in Philadelphia but had an agency in New York City while Spector’s primary residence was Pasadena. When Spector was around Jennings, he frequently carried guns on his person.

On January 12, 1995, from about 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 a.m., Jennings was Spector’s guest at an after-party at the Waldorf Astoria for a Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame inductee award dinner. Spector was drinking and unpleasant, making obnoxious statements; this change in demeanor was something that Jennings had seen before. The drunker Spector got, the louder, more obnoxious, and more unpleasant he became.

After the party, Jennings took a taxi back to Spector’s hotel by herself, went to her room, and fell asleep. Later, between about 3:00 and 4:00 a.m., Spector’s bodyguard woke her up with a knock on her hotel room door. The bodyguard said that Spector wanted her to come join him in his room. Jennings said that she was sleeping and would see Spector the following day.

After the bodyguard left, Jennings went back to bed. Spector knocked at the door and said that he wanted Jennings to come join him in his suite. She responded that she was sleeping and would see him the following day. Angry, yelling, Spector insisted that she come to his suite.

Spector said that he was paying for her hotel room and that if she did not come to his suite, she would have to leave and pay for her own room. Jennings said then she would pack her bags, pay for the room herself, and leave. Spector came into Jennings’s hotel room and they continued arguing about her refusal to go to his suite. As Jennings moved about the hotel room packing, Spector followed and yelled at her. Threatened by Spector’s anger, Jennings was upset and crying, trying to figure out how to get out of the situation. She started to pack in the bathroom, and the argument got more heated. Spector came into the bathroom and pushed or slapped Jennings, causing her to fall backwards onto the toilet. Jennings rose quickly and pushed Spector backwards. He fell into the bathtub, the shower curtain coming down. Angry, Spector sprung up and left the hotel room.

After Spector left the hotel room, Jennings finished packing all her bags, still upset and crying. Spector came back into the hotel room. He pulled a chair in front of the door and sat down, blocking the exit. Spector had a small handgun in his hand and still appeared angry. At times, Spector was waving the gun and pointing it in no particular direction, and other times he pointed the gun in Jennings’s direction.

Jennings was more frightened than before because Spector had brought a gun into the situation. Jennings could not leave the hotel room because Spector was holding her at gunpoint. She sat on the bed, crying, and asked Spector to let her leave. She said that she would go to the front desk, leave her bags there, pay for the room, and then “that would be it, the situation would be over.” Agitated, Spector would not allow Jennings to leave. Still holding her at gunpoint, Spector said that Jennings could go pay for the room but that she should leave her bags there and could not take them out of the room.

Jennings picked up the telephone and, at 6:23 a.m., dialed 911 because she believed that this situation was dangerous to her life and that she needed help. At 6:27 a.m., police officers were dispatched to the scene. With the 911 operator still on the line, Spector left the room.

#274: Then He Kissed Me - Phil Spector's Greatest Hits - Number 7

2011-08-23T17:53:00.000+09:30

While living in New York, Dorothy Melvin, Joan Rivers’s manager, dated Phil Spector from about 1989 or 1990 until 1993.

On July 3, 1993, Melvin, who was seeing her family in the Los Angeles area, visited Spector at his home in Pasadena. In the course of the evening, Spector drank a lot of vodka from a “somewhat full” bottle, becoming increasingly talkative and outgoing, laughing and quoting.

Later that evening, Spector went away for a period of time. At about midnight or 1:00 a.m., Melvin lay down on the couch and fell asleep for several hours. Melvin awoke before daybreak, looked out the open front door, and saw Spector pointing a .38 snub-nose revolver at her brand-new car in the circular motor court. She moved to within a foot of Spector and started screaming, “What the [fuck] do you think you’re doing?” At this time, Melvin was angry, not afraid, believing that it was just “another one of his shows of bravado.” Spector turned and said over his shoulder, “Get back in the house.” Melvin kept jumping around and screaming at Spector. Spector backhanded her right temple with the gun in his right hand. He said, “I told you to get the ‘F’ into the house.”

Melvin stood next to the front door while Spector sat down on the stairs going through Melvin’s purse. Spector accused Melvin of looking for things to steal and sell. He also told her to take her clothes off and go to the third floor. She was sobbing and repeatedly asking him why he was doing this. While rummaging through Melvin’s purse, Spector sometimes pointed the gun at her and other times pointed it up or at the floor.

At some point, after Melvin would not take her clothes off, Spector said, “I told you to take your [fucking] clothes off.” His right hand holding the gun, Spector again backhanded her right temple and then returned to the stairs. Melvin was terrified, afraid for her safety; still sobbing, she took off her bright pink jacket. Spector asked Melvin to throw the jacket to him. Spector found a lipstick in her purse and asked her what it was. Throughout this exchange, Spector always used profanity when he talked and did not answer her repeated questioning about why he was doing this.

While Melvin was sobbing, Spector said “to get the [fuck] out.” Melvin said, “You have my keys. They’re in my jacket pocket.” Spector threw the keys at Melvin, who ran out of the house. Melvin got into the car and drove down the driveway to leave but the gate was closed. As Melvin sat in her car with the gate closed, Spector ran down the driveway holding a pump-action shotgun. When Melvin heard the pump of the shotgun, she felt more terrified. Spector screamed at Melvin menacingly, “I told you to get the [fuck] out of here,” and Melvin screamed back, “The gate won’t open.” Spector approached her on the driver’s side. Spector stopped and said, in a quizzical way, “Gate won’t open?” Melvin noticed another “personality change” in Spector at that moment. Crying, she again said, “The gate won’t open.” Spector said, “Well, I’m going to go back and open it.” Spector ran back into the house, the gate opened, and Melvin drove away.

#273: Knocking At Your Back Door

2011-08-10T18:07:00.001+09:30

Back in around 1658 I worked as a person who’d lease shrubberies to the underprivileged. One of my customers came from a place that made Borstal look white, clean and neat, but there he sat, waiting for someone to spring him to freedom. He was born with a mild intellectual, and a physical, disability, as a result of which his family shunned him and left him to fend for himself. He basically pinballed around the place, always looking for a new shrub to hide beneath and hopefully call his own, instead of the branch that he currently had.

When I met him he was in a bad, yet positive shape. In the place that makes Borstal look good he was being exploited and easily led down garden paths that he shouldn’t have been led down. I worked hard and spoke with people, the end result was that we got some more gardeners involved, good gardeners, the kind of gardeners who would, and did, help him. They helped him get new clothes to replace the rags he wore, little things like food and televisions and the like. Good stuff. He was happy, but he didn’t want to sit out on the branch at the place that made Borstal look good. That’s where I really kicked in.

I found him a shrubbery. It wasn’t a pretty shrubbery, but he could move into it whenever he wanted to and live in peace and quiet. He was overjoyed, but dismayed as he’d have to find a way to break his agreement with the owner of the place that makes Borstal look good. “Jeez,” I said, “I can fix that.” I then picked up my tin can on a string and spoke to the owner, who was happy that our lad had found his own shrubbery. All was good. We then piled into the Flintstone car and visited the shrubbery. We moved him in the following week.

All was good. He’d have his moments though. He didn’t know how to clean the bottom of his shrubbery, after all he’d been in and out of places since he could remember, abused and abandoned. I bought a mop, bucket and some cleaning products, took them to him and showed him how to clean his shrubbery. While there I noticed that someone had moved in, so I told them to leave, which they did. I then told our lad that his shrubbery was just that – his shrubbery, and that he shouldn’t allow people to move in. He agreed, but damn, it was hard when people asked because he didn’t have many chums, and who cared if they sold things they shouldn’t? I liked him in with more gardeners.

After a fashion the good gardeners fell away as our lad just stopped visiting them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to visit, it’s just that he often forgot, or was just too silent, so people forgot about him. I kept working with him though and he was happy. We had bad monkeys move nearby and we went to court, our lad came along and I was with him all the way. The bad monkeys left and our lad was happy that he’d done the right thing. Then things happened.

A gorilla decided that he wanted to build a new place where sick people could go, so he withdrew a lot of bananas from a lot of gardeners. Another gorilla decided that he wanted to build a place where other monkeys could go to screech and yell at apes throwing coconuts at each other, so he sacked a lot of gardeners and took away yet more bananas. Yet another gorilla decided that he wanted to make his shrubbery look good, so he spent a lot of bananas and closed down several departments of gardeners to do it. All this resulted in our lad going to appointments only to have the doors shut on him and him being left to fend for himself. Even I had to leave, and when I did he cried and said, “But who’s going to help me now?” “You’ll be fine,” I replied, “you know what to do.”

Every so often I’d see him in the trees, he’d stop me and say hello and we’d speak. He seemed happy, yet sad, and he began to look as dishevelled as he was at the start of the process. He’d stopped washing all the time, his clothes were manky and he smelt. But, he assured me, he was doing his best and just waiting for more gardeners to come on board and help him. I’d tell him I wish I could do more, but the ape who was in charge of me didn’t like me and had me removed. Such is life.

Eventually our lad did something very dark and unspeakable. He didn’t take a life, but he came very close to it, and now our lad will have to face the consequences. He'll end up in a place that'll make Borstal look like Heaven, a place that'll make Bedlam look like holiday camp. Eventually he’ll be placed into a system that won’t help him, because it can’t help him, because it hasn’t the resources or bananas to help him and he’ll just vanish, forgotten until he fades away. It may not be my fault but I feel partially to blame as I wasn’t there to help him through his issues as much as I should have been. Other gardeners probably feel the same, but we’ll have a new place to throw balls, get better in and someone has a lovely shrubbery with a great view for the days when he wants to turn up to yell at monkeys. And, frankly, that’s all that seems to matter these days. Apes can take monkeys one third their age out clubbing and pick fights, apes can crack onto anyone, apes can do what they want, but monkeys that need help the most just aren’t getting it, nor are they likely to get it.

This world is neither kind, nor is it just, nor is it fair. It abandons the people who need help the most so that those who do not need, nor deserve good things can have them. People talk about the ‘legacies’ that they leave behind. Next time an ape says that near me I’m going to tell them, exactly, what kind of a legacy that they have left behind. A legacy of broken people, broken lives and cracks so massive that people don’t slip through them, entire buildings fall deep into them without ever hitting the sides. When some apes retire, millionaires, to the shores of the Mediterranean, when they slip off to make more wealth for themselves, perhaps one day they’ll hear the voices of those perfect strangers as they call into the wind, they won't know who it is or what they want, but they'll hear them. And even then, as they do now, they'll ignore them.

In the meantime, this week at least, I’ll keep walking in the rain, that way everyone will continue to think I’m tough and heartless because they’ll not see any tears running down my cheeks. The Bear told me, "You can't save everyone," and she's right. But I can try, and when I fail, it hurts. Perhaps they were right when they told me I wasn't cut out for that line of work. I'm not detached enough.

Thank Buddha for that.

#272: We're The Pride of South Australia

2011-07-26T19:42:00.001+09:30

'Nuff said!

#271: Ball of Confusion

2011-07-15T20:54:00.001+09:30

Dear Australian Public,

You are a New Zealander’s dream – you are a flock of easily fucked sheep. You are stupid enough to buy into Tony Abbotts campaign designed to attack the incumbent PM on a basis of gender, not policy. You are stupid enough to buy into a campaign based upon sexism and outright bullying. And why is this?

Says it all

Because you have absolutely no comprehension of history. In the early 1990s John Hewson ran a campaign on the back of a proposed Goods and Services Tax. Both the GST and Hewson were soundly defeated by Paul Keating, and Hewson stood down, or was sacked – take your pick - and was replaced by John Howard. When asked about the GST, Howard stood before a media conference, at Tweed Heads, in May 1995 and said the following;

“There is no way a GST will ever be part of our policy. Never, ever. It’s dead; it was killed by the voters in the last election.”

Then, in 1996, just prior to the election, he stated;

“My government will not introduce any new taxes and will not increase existing taxes.”

By June 2000 Howard was busily selling the GST to the nation and insisting that prices would not increase. Lies built upon lies.

Fucking shameful behaviour from a weak prick not fit to lead the country

I don’t recall anyone protesting so vigorously against Howard, or calling him a ‘bitch’ (I guess the male counterpart would be ‘bastard’) in public, let alone the opposition leader standing, proudly and beaming, in front of banners proclaiming the PM as a ‘bitch’, However in this current climate, the opposition leader, Tony Abbott, is very proud of gaining mileage out the current PM’s introduction of the Carbon Tax as a lie, and, in his eyes, a liar is not fit to lead the country. This is despite him serving in a government lead by a liar for near on twelve years. He had no issues with a lying PM then. He didn’t protest, he never spoke up about the lying, indeed he not only embraced it, he sold the policy to the nation as a whole and defended the PM at that point as a ‘great leader’.

Wanker

What made Howard great in Abbott’s eyes? Well, for one thing he was his boss, the other thing is that Howard is a male, Julia Gillard is a female, and the Alpha Male that is a politician today cannot tolerate the thought of a female being in a position of power above them. Thus the smear campaign must start; Julia Gillard is a liar who is not fit to run the country. However NOBODY has asked Abbott what he thought, and thinks, of John Howard introducing a GST after stating, categorically, that he’d not do so. Nobody has asked Abbott what he thinks of Howard lying about the Children Overboard saga. Nobody has asked Abbott what he thinks about Howard lying over Australia’s entry into the Iraq-Afghanistan war in an effort to curry favour with the Bush administration, a conflict that has cost Australian lives and, after over ten years, has no end in sight. Nobody has asked Abbott where he sits on John Howards many, many lies. Nobody has asked Abbott how he felt being party of a government that was built on lies. It’s one of the many reasons why I have little respect for the bulk of the journalists out there today. So, all you members of the Fourth Estate, start earning your cash and ask those protesting what they thought of Howard, and where were they when Howard introduced his own tax, which went against what he’d said. In short, ask those peanuts protesting and bleating like the retarded sheep that they are, what is the difference between John Howard, who habitually lied to the nation throughout his multiple terms of office, and Julia Gillard.

Did you vote for a GST as well? Of course not, you easily led dickheads

The difference is gender. Party politics is one thing, but to see people attacking each other on the basis of gender makes me want to vomit. And all of you small minded monkeys carrying those signs tell me where you were and what you did back in 2000 when John Howard introduced one of the worst taxes in Australian history, which drove prices up and devalued the Australian dollar to all new lows.

Two arseholes

Oh, sorry, that’s right; you’re too busy writing your revisions to history. I have no time for those protesting this Carbon Tax on the basis of a lie, because you’re all a bunch of hypocritical, easily led morons. Nothing more, nothing less. You want to elect a person who is more unfit to lead this nation than the average houseplant, just because he’s male. The same person who, in 1998, established a trust fund called "Australians for Honest Politics Trust" with the sole purpose to bankroll civil court cases against the One Nation party, along with Pauline Hanson and David Ettridge and who rejoiced when Hanson was jailed. The fact that the convictions were overturned means nothing to him; he dealt with that ‘bitch’ as well. The same person who verbally attacked a terminally ill man and didn’t have the guts to face him. The same man who believes in ‘good, old fashioned’ values, that being that a woman’s place is in the home, possibly barefoot, pregnant and tied to the kitchen sink. The same man who, if elected, will ultimately bring this nation to its knees. The same man who has no policies and insists on attacking the person, and not the policies before the Australian public. The same man who is clearly far too weak to attack anyone who could physically fight back.

Wake up and smell the cat food.

Personal Jesus.

#270: Downtown

2011-07-08T08:49:00.000+09:30

The recent commentary about the utterly awful Coles ‘Downtown’ campaign certainly has displayed Social Media at its best (worst). The whole debacle is a classic example of how PR firms are able to put a positive spin on anything, even a negative campaign against Coles by, well, people. For those who don’t know, the ad features a pile of celebrity chefs, singing Downtown so out of tune and off key that Petula Clark would be spinning in her grave if she was dead. As it is, if she heard the song she might wish she was dead. Typically Facebook pages have been established to complain about the ads, but people who start complaint pages on sites such as Facebook aren't social media 'experts', such as those at PR companies, so they don't know what they're talking about. Or so we’re told, by the experts themselves, who decry anyone using the same tools that they use - if you're not working for a PR firm then you simply do not know what you're doing and shouldn't be using sites such as Facebook, Twitter, GoogleBuzz or the like.

As if any, and I mean ANY, PR firm is going to feedback anything negative to a major client such as Coles. Or Telstra. In those cases what the client is told that as long as people are talking about the brand, then it’s a plus. It’s the Oscar Wilde syndrome: “The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.” Indeed the official word from the head of Coles PR, in response to the negative campaign is, "The fact is that we have created a fun campaign that people are talking about and if that's the case then it's a good ad." Proof and pudding anyone? You can hate me all you want, just keep my name and brand in the public eye. There is no bad publicity other than no publicity. If you think I’m joking just look at how Curtis Stone and his $10 dinner deals, that in reality cost around $30+ each, was spun. Once the ACCC published the fact that, to make any of the meals you'd be spending far more than $10, Coles replied that the core ingredients only cost under $10, the rest is assumed that you already have, such as fresh herbs, and the meat was usually the lowest grade cat food mixed with pig fat and sawdust mince that was on sale that week. We tried one of the Stone Under $10 Dinners once – it was lovely, and all up, to buy everything, from Coles, that was on the card, it cost me $35. Hardly under $10, or perhaps Curtis is so rich now he’s forgotten what $10 looks like.

"Bash it, Curtis."

Woolies was the winner there, dragging out the original celebrity chef, Margaret Fulton, to whip out some of her own cheapie recipes - just when we all thought Maggie was dead too, here she comes, like Oliver Cromwell, riding over the bridge to show that whippersnapper how things are really done. It's times like these that I wish Bernard King was still around, if only to tell a lot of those 'celebrity chefs' to simply get stuffed. Imagine Masterchef with Bernard? That'd be a ratings killer - and they could use ole Ernie Sigley as the host.

"This shit costs $10 alone!"

I’m not a fan of social media ‘experts’ if only because they push their own barrel. I find I can’t even have a conversation with them anymore as they tend to want to sell me something – ANYTHING. And I’m not really buying. Plus they’re worse than University philosophy students in that they firmly believe that if you’re not one of them, then you have no idea what you’re talking about. The truth is that any PR company worth its salt can put a positive spin on anything – hell, if Hitler was alive and working today he’d have a pile of PR companies all over the world telling everyone what a good guy he really is, and how he’s just trying to unite Europe. And therein lies the key – PR companies are whores – they’ll sell anything, fiddle with the figures, spin more than Senna did in the wet and basically ignore anything that goes against what they say. Goering would be proud of some of the people I know who work for PR firms these days.

I’d rather some companies spend less on a firm telling me how good they are and a bit more on things such as, ooooohhhh, customer service perhaps?

Now that’d be good PR surely?

Won't happen though.

#269: Tears Of A Frog

2011-07-03T19:15:00.001+09:30

There's a reason why I hate selling on eBay, and here it is. To set the background, virtually each time we've shipped an item to France, Italy or Canada it's not arrived and the buyers have all claimed, successfully. The fact that those countries have dodgy mailing systems means nothing - hell Canada Mail is on strike right now - we get the abuse, we're out of pocket. As such when we decided to start offloading stuff from the overfull carport we clearly stated that we'd not ship to any of those countries and placed them on the exclusion list.

We also decided that, and this is keeping with eBay rules, every item has to go registered and insured. During 2008 we lost an amazing $2,000+ to buyers who insisted that we not ship insured or registered, lesson learned. We quote the actual postage cost, more times than not we lose money on it, but, again, better safe than sorry.

There's a third reason why we don't ship to France, and here it is. The auction in question was a CD that sold for $25.00. The buyer was a guy from France - beats me how he bid, and here's the messages that have gone back and forth, AFTER the auction ended. Enjoy!
--------------------

BUYER: Hi. Shipping is too high because 1/ you want registered and 2/ insuurance.
I want minimum shipping please. Money is hard to earn (especially today).
Thanks to update shipping.

US: Hi

As clearly stated in our auction listing, we do not ship to France under any circumstances. As such your bid is being canceled

I apologise for any disappointment, but this was clearly stated within the conditions of this auction.

Regards

BUYER: Sir, your answer is outrageous. You do not have the right to discriminate and to point to good countries and bad countries. Because you've probably had a problem with a package addressed to France, then you decide that the whole country is not viable. It's pathetic. You are a tiny man who lives in a country without culture, without history. Your country is a huge empty apart from idiots like you who are rotting in their vomit Ebay.
No, I do not give up the auction and if you persist, I go to court for discrimination.

US: Good afternoon.

According to Ebay guidelines, I DO have the right to restrict which countries I choose to do business with.

I will reporting this matter to them. YOU have failed to adhere to the conditions of the auction by 1) bidding when the conditions clearly state you shouldn't, and then B) for arguing the postage price AFTER the close of the auction - which, by bidding, you agreed to.

This is precisely why we don't ship to France. EVERY transaction has turned into a nightmare.

Regards

BUYER: Do you realize the stupidity of your message. Because you had some bad dealings with France (which can happen with "any other country ...), you condemn a population of 60 million French people ..... Your speech is purely racist and demonstrates your low intelligence and your narrow-mindedness. it's people like you that create discrimination and, 60 years ago you would have been a perfect Nazi ..... you defend your terms of sale which are an insult to France, a country of tolerance. you do not want France, rest assured, FRANCE lives very well without you.
I remain buyers with 100% positive feedback. I do not cancel the transaction but I'll pay your shipping costs.

-----

And that was that. I've not changed a single word. Feel free to chuckle at the double standards and hypocrisy on display and marvel at the thought that, by abusing us we'll change our mind and sell to him. We duly reported him for harassment, canceled the transaction, contacted the underbidder, who was more than happy to pay straight away and put some Johnny Cash on the iPod and chilled out. So, if you ever want the answer as to why we don't sell to anyone in France, there you have it. As for being 'perfect Nazis', if we were then we'd have no trouble walking down the Champs Elysees in the shade, because, as we all now know, that's why the beret wearing surrender monkeys (which is what Zee German calls them) really planted the trees for.

I now expect a message telling me that my mother was a hamster and my father smelt of elderberries, or that this clown farts in my general direction. And another pal wonders why I have absolutely no interest in going to Paris. And bub, I live very well, EXTREMELY well in fact, without you, or fucking France and your fucking nuclear bombs and your fucking piss weak cheap wine that tastes like wallpaper paste mixed with cordial and your fucking croissants in my life too, so feel free to drop dead. If I want culture I'll wander around here, if I want culture overseas then there's plenty of places that are far more interesting that France will ever be.

#268: Vertigo

2011-06-26T18:55:00.000+09:30

An interesting little document. I compiled these quotes from the various depositions that were filed in the Chris Lester v U2 court case. In short Lester claimed that U2 stole his song, Nowhere Fast (the title of which is a steal from an utterly brilliant Jim Stienman song from the movie Streets of Fire) and released the music as Vertigo. Naturally U2 fought this and I have no idea who won as the case petered out into the usual 'undisclosed settlement'. What I do know is that I can't find Lester's song anywhere on the internet at all, released under the band name of Custom 500, which leads me to believe that he might have lost.

What was interesting was U2's own music expert, who found that the riff of Vertigo was anything but original, and could be traced back to the Kinks You Really Got Me and the Rolling Stones' Bitch, Stone Temple Pilots' Crackerman and Sex Type Thing, The Police's Roxanne, amongst other songs by the likes of Megadeth, Black Sabbath and Therapy. The case was also hilarious for the testimony given by the plaintiffs, music experts who had never heard of the Kinks, and Lester himself, totally baffled during his deposition, who got his facts confused and was clearly out of his depth. Of course U2 were shocked and outraged that anyone, ANYONE, could suggest that their music isn't anything but totally 100% original.

While I'm not surprised that U2 were sued for plagiarism, I am surprised it took this long. Personally I've always felt that a-Ha could raise a case for Beautiful Day being a steal of The Sun Always Shines On TV or the Breeders, who could also raise a case for Elevation being a steal of Cannonball. The list goes on. In the 2000's U2 were all over everyone else's music, with the sub-par albums All That You Can't Leave Behind and Atomic Bomb. It was only when U2 began to experiment again with No Line On The Horizon that they stopped stealing other people's music, either consciously or sub-consciously - take your pick - so hopefully they'll continue in that direction. Until then, here's U2 telling the world how they created Vertigo!

--------------------

U2 completed its world “Elevation Tour” in late 2001. By early 2002, we decided that we wanted our next studio album to be reminiscent of the punk rock genre by including up tempo, guitar driven, aggressive and adrenalized songs.

--Larry

In early 2002, U2 had already decided that our next studio album would an up-tempo, fast paced, adrenalized record, invocative of the energy of the era punk rock.

--Bono

In early 2002, I performed and recorded improvised drum tracks for potential new songs at our Hanover Quay recording studio in Dublin, Ireland. My intent was to assist Edge, who would otherwise compose music using machine made drum tracks. I also did this so that I would not be left out of the early creative process. Engineers

Chris Heaney and Leo Pearson, and drum technician Sam Sullivan, assisted me with the recording.

Chris, Leo, Sam and I selected what we considered to be the best parts of my improvised drum tracks. We used the selected parts to create drum loops, which we downloaded onto a CD and sent to Edge. I understand that my drum loops inspired Edge to work on complementary aggressive, hard-driving guitar riffs, and that the two-bar guitar riff (which was ultimately used in Vertigo) came to him when he was playing his guitar while listening to my drum loops.

--Larry

The rhythm of the drums (or the groove of the beat) inspired me to create and play simultaneously, among other things, a two-bar guitar chord progression (the “Vertigo Guitar Riff”) that became part of a song that I composed and recorded over the course of a few days and called Hard Metal Jacket. When I created the Vertigo Guitar Riff, I was not following a preconceived notion of the way a song should be composed. The Vertigo Guitar Riff was the result of inspiration, instinct and happenstance provoked by my reaction to Larry’s drumbeats. I was deliberately trying to find something new, and to sort of surprise myself and uncover something fresh, which is why some of the chord changes I was playing were quite big leaps down the fret board on my guitar.

I recorded the Vertigo Guitar Riff using recording equipment in my home and Digital Performer software on my laptop computer. I also created and recorded other guitar parts for Hard Metal Jacket and a bass guitar part that essentially paralleled the Vertigo Guitar Riff (the “Vertigo Bass Riff”). The Vertigo Bass Riff simply reinforced the chordal Vertigo Guitar Riff. I created the Vertigo Bass Riff to fill out the sound without intending to overly influence what Adam U2’s bass player) might ultimately do to it.

Terry Lawless, a musician and digital audio technician who periodically works with U2, functioned as my recording engineer in Malibu, and assisted me in recording and engineering my work. Over the course of several days Terry helped me put the constituent parts of three or four songs together into three or four demo recordings, one of which was Hard Metal Jacket. Terry burned Hard Metal Jacket and the other songs that I had composed and recorded (collectively, the “Malibu Recordings”) onto a CD and gave the CD to me. In November 2002, when Bono was visiting Los Angeles, I played Hard Metal Jacket, and the other Malibu Recordings, for Bono and a mutual friend Lian Lunson.

--Edge

In November 2002, Edge and I were visiting a friend in Los Angeles named Lian Lunson. Edge played for us recordings of several songs he had been working on. One of the songs, which he titled Full Metal Jacket or Hard Metal Jacket consisted bass and guitar tracks over drum loops. In listening to Hard Metal Jacket, I was impressed with the guitar attitude and vitality, and I thought that the song had some potential to become a U2 song.

--Bono

In late 2002, at Hanover Quay, our recording studio in Dublin, Ireland, the band began the process of recording our next album, which was ultimately titled How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb.

--Bono

In December 2002, the band met at Hanover Quay to start work on our next studio album. Edge played some songs (or ideas for songs) that he had recorded. One of the songs, called Hard Metal Jacket, contained the two-bar guitar riff that was ultimately used in Vertigo.

--Larry

In December 2002, the band regrouped in Dublin to begin the process of writing and recording new songs for our next studio album. Edge came to our first meeting with six or seven pieces of music — ideas for songs — that he had recorded. I recall that the piece of music that ultimately evolved into Vertigo contained a guitar riff, some arrangement ideas, drum loops and a bass part. I assumed that the drum loops were created by Larry, and have since learned that my assumption was correct.

--Adam

The band worked on the studio album over the next two years. The song Hard Metal Jacket went through many changes on the way to becoming the song now known as Vertigo. The two-bar guitar riff, however, did not change in any significant way.

--Larry

Having agreed that Edge’s idea for the song that became Vertigo had some potential, the band then recorded the backing track (or musical bed) for that idea. The band had agreed that our next album should be reminiscent of the punk rock era, so naturally, for Vertigo, I played a bass line that paralleled the guitar. This is a classic punk rock technique that can be found in many punk rock songs, and a technique that I have employed in other U2 musical compositions.

--Adam

Around December 2002, the Malibu Recordings were played for all of my band mates at a studio called Hanover Quay, in Dublin, Ireland. The band then worked on Hard Metal Jacket, exclusively or primarily at Hanover Quay, for almost two years. We recorded at least 75 versions of the song. At the end of each week we spent in the studio, we would typically create a listening CD that included what we thought was the best version of the songs we had worked on that week. The listening CD allowed us to listen to our work on weekends or holidays so that we could come up with new ideas or suggestions for improving our work.

Over the next two years Hard Metal Jacket went through many iterations on the way to becoming Vertigo. Sometimes in order to identify a particular melodic approach we attached different names to different versions of the song. The names included Shark Soup, Viva La Ramone and Native Son (which was actually the proper title for the song for a while). Each iteration of the song that became Vertigo included the guitar riff composed by Edge in Malibu.

--Bono

As Hard Metal Jacket evolved, the music, instrumentation, title and lyrics changed many times. Over the course of time, Hard Metal Jacket had several working titles (for purposes of distinguishing between melodic ideas incorporated within its many iterations), such as Viva La Ramone, Shark Soup, Sopa de Tiburon, Native Son and finally Vertigo.

--Edge

As our song evolved, vocal melodies and lyrics were sung over the backing track. During this process, we identified the song by several titles, one of which was Native Son. When Native Son was essentially a complete song, the band decided that we were dissatisfied with it. Among other things, we felt that it was too politically motivated and not punky enough in its attitude. While Bono was away, Edge, Larry and I re-recorded (or re-cut) the backing track to get what we felt was a better attitude. After Bono heard the re-cut, he created the Vertigo melody.

--Adam

Each version of the song that ultimately became Vertigo included the Vertigo Guitar Riff, which did not change musically from the time I composed it in Malibu to when Vertigo was commercially released. Over time Adam did make adjustments to the Vertigo Bass Riff from what I had initially composed and recorded in Malibu. Although I, alone, composed the Vertigo Guitar Riff, Bono, Adam, Larry and I collectively composed the rest of the musical backing track for Vertigo. Bono and I wrote the lyrics for Vertigo.

--Edge

All of us participated in the song writing process to one degree or another in that we generally create our songs by improvising while we are recording. Larry, Adam, Edge and I composed the music for Vertigo. Edge and I composed the lyrics for Vertigo.

--Bono

Paying tax is for arseholes

Each band member participated in the creation of Vertigo. Edge wrote the guitar parts, including the guitar riff in issue. He also had a role in the creation of the bass part, some of the over-dubs, and the melodic development of the song. Bono contributed to the musical development of the song and, along with Edge, wrote the melodies and lyrics. I made some adjustments to the bass part, and Larry created the drum part. We shared our musical ideas in a collaborative, consensual process. We

constantly re-evaluated the ideas and collectively decided how to proceed as new ones emerged.

--Adam

In September 2004, U2 released Vertigo as a single recording. In November 2004, U2 released the album How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb, which included Vertigo.

--Edge