From the Handler’s Side: Bumping into Geniuses

Bumping into Geniuses
My Life Inside the Rock and Roll Business
By Danny Goldberg
307 pp. Gotham Books

“I was close to the mysterious flame of rock and roll genius,” Danny Goldberg writes. That is what we all want as rock fans right? To be on the inside of our rock icon’s lives. And that is exactly where Danny Goldberg was. The book tracks his career in the music biz from his early dealings with Patti Smith to publicizing Led Zeppelin and Kiss to managing Stevie Nicks, Nirvana and Warren Zevon (just to name a few), where he rose from lowly rock writer to rock executive.

Danny Goldberg saw rock and roll as a way to change the world and just as importantly a way to rise above dorkdum. He began his career at Billboard magazine where he got an assignment any rock writer now would dream of, but about which no one cared at the time: Woodstock. There he found himself immersed in the crowd, an experience which became more important than the music itself.

“I saw myself not as a journalist, but as a part of the audience, as a spy on its behalf, infiltrating the old-school music business.”

But it was meeting Danny Fields of Atlantic that changed his career. He liked Goldberg’s column on MC5 and introduced him to “the back room” at Max’s Kansas City. I would have given anything to get that invite. There he hung out with influential rock journalists, Andy Warhol and future superstars like Patti Smith and David Johansen of The New York Dolls. Patti Smith worked at a bookstore at the time and when Goldberg first met her she asked him what book he wanted her to steal for him. The next day she produced a nice hardback of  the I Ching. Holy crap! Imagine having a book Patti Smith stole for you?

When he talks about his early years in the music industry, he speaks with great affection and regret about MC5 and The New York Dolls. He wished he could have brought mass popularity to them. He tried and failed. This frustrated and haunted him.

And the “ever alternating feelings of power and powerlessness” continued throughout his career.  He championed the poets of rock. The book outlines his successes with Led Zeppelin, Stevie Nicks and Nirvana, but he also tells of his failures. Underneath he pined for the critically acclaimed artists that he connected with like Patti Smith or MC5 to get their due. I believe that drove his career. That longing pays off a bit when you get to Warren Zevon. “No one became a rock star by accident or against their will,” Goldberg writes. They may be artists, but they wanted to make money and it maddened him when he couldn’t help all he loved to do that.

I found myself wanting more about what his influence was on the artists’ careers. He definitely worked with amazing people and witnessed greatness. Even helped it along, but I wanted to know HOW he did it more. I thought that possibly his career was as accidental as the title suggests. What I really got interested in was his passion for music. It was in those moments I went, “There. That’s what I want to read about.” Like when Goldberg met Warren Zevon backstage after his last Late Night appearance (which is definitely worth youtube’ing):

“Backstage we were all choked up. I assured Warren he had been great and sounded great. Having beamed self assurance and gruff charisma during the show, he suddenly seemed to shrink and hugged me saying, ‘You know, I wish I really did just have to flu.’ I could barely get out the words, ‘So do I.’ It was a terrible reminder that for all of Warren’s show biz bravado and Zen equilibrium, he really was living with the dream and finality of a fatal illness. It was, when all was said and done, no fucking joke.”

In those moments sometimes I forgot he wasn’t just their friend. But then he’d inevitably jar me into the reality by referencing his end game, which was to make money. He was a businessman. But it was fascinating. To see these musicians I’d idealized as rock and roll poets negotiate the business end of things. And some were savvier than I had realized.

The Zevon section was particularly great. It was personal, touching and great storytelling. It made me sad that sometimes it takes an artist, especially one that is under the radar, to be dying to get any recognition in this harsh business. It really drove home that the idealized artists may be geniuses, but they are also just people. And believe or not (and as much as I hate to admit it) so are the businessman. It was surprising to discover that Led Zeppelin, one of the biggest bands in the world still had those insecure, but-do-they-really-like-me moments? And not so surprising that Kiss (namely Gene Simmons) was uber-confident and understood the business side intimately.

I got lost in the jumble of names and titles and dollars signs at points, And some of the financial information made my mind wander like it did in ninth grade algebra class. Percentage points, royalties blah, blah. But I loved being on the inside of behind the scenes blunders, successes and moments of artistic genius. I would have loved to have been there when Kurt Cobain came up with the concept of the Smells like Teen Spirit video. Goldberg doesn’t pretend to know all about music (I respect him for admitting this). But it’s clear he sells records because he believes in the music. And any artist wants the businessman behind them to feel that. You don’t forget he’s a rock fan. This he makes sure to remind you. Even though Goldberg wears his heart on his sleeve, the hard truth is that as music lovers we care more about the artist than the man behind them.

Beth Navarro previously wrote about singer/songwriter Mark Lanegan:
http://shakinglikeamountain.com/shaking/2010/03/19/essential-listening-elizabeth-navarro-time-travels-back-to-the-first-post-grunge-years-2/