AMERICAN DREAMER
I think it helped me when I started working at Elektra, that I had seriously diverse tastes. It was like that when I began diving into the music scene in the seventies—from Alice Cooper to Aretha Franklin, to Rocky Horror on Broadway, and Suicide. That impulse found me checking out and bringing into the company many unexpected and surprising artists.
The Cars had been on the Elektra label since their debut self-titled album was released in 1978. By 1983, they were making the label millions of dollars, and Ric Ocasek—primary songwriter, bass player, and lead singer—had a fanatical interest in Alan Vega of Suicide. Ric was an adventurous listener. He produced the Bad Brains and Romeo Void and he was blown away by Alan. He brought it up to Bob that he wanted Elektra to sign Vega and let him produce the album. It was hard for Bob to turn Ric down and I was tagged to be the A&R executive.
The album, Saturn Strip, was electrifying. But it didn’t sell well, which meant a problem for the bottom line and when the bottom line was at risk, Bob was not happy, so he dropped Vega. But before letting him go, Elektra distributed Alan’s next album, Just a Million Dreams. Ric produced two of the tracks, and Howard Thompson, head A&R at Elektra, took over the project.
It was a real contradiction that such a misunderstood artist on the rock scene, who sometimes terrorized his audiences, became an important voice for Ocasek, one of the industry’s most popular, mainstream artists. Vega once spoke of Ocasek in glowing terms: “When I work with him, I know I’m in God’s hands.”1
Nine months later, I decided to sign my first band. They were a power pop group from Red Bank, New Jersey, called Shrapnel. They wore military uniforms on stage, had been on the New York scene for a few years and were regulars in the local clubs. They had put out a couple of singles that were really cool and they were managed by Legs McNeil, the co-founder of Punk magazine. Curiously, they were favorites of the writer Norman Mailer, who hired them to play at a number of his parties. Mailer was enticed by the punk rock movement because he “did genuinely like the music—its energy, precision, and violence.”2 I adored Shrapnel, and they were friends of mine. Also, I was anxious to start signing bands.
I ended up overseeing the recording of a five-song EP, which was produced by Richie Cordell and Glenn Kolotkin of Hall of Fame Records and FilmWorks. The remainder of the EP was produced by Vince Ely, drummer for the Psychedelic Furs. It did fairly well on the college radio circuit but they didn’t make a heavy splash in sales and, eventually, Bob and the label asked me to release them from their contract. Bob never really liked them, but that wasn’t the point—they weren’t selling—and that was the point.
It was my first signing and it was a disaster—a complete failure. Thinking about it now, I know I was still very young and too eager—I had blinders on—blinded by a success that hadn’t arrived yet. I was heartbroken.
Unfortunately, I had to inform the band that Elektra was letting them go. They took it as best as they could. I couldn’t try and make things better for them in other ways, I had to keep moving forward.