Dilution of the Core

Let’s take a break from the story for a moment, so I can hypothesize and ramble, and in this ramble, oddly enough, connect it to India. I have tremendous passion and devotion to animals, in particular dogs.

Over the past few decades, I have been deeply involved in the perpetuation of a few breeds, namely the Fila Brasileiro (Brazilian Mastiff). The Fila is not a dog for everyone and requires a huge amount of time and especially understanding. This animal will show the greatest love and devotion to its family, unlike anything you can imagine.

It is also extremely suspicious of strangers and is not a dog you can come up to and pet on the street. It will attack, and this is not a learned trait, but a genetic predisposition. I have learned to understand that it is their reaction to thinking those they love most may be threatened.

At well over 150 lbs. it takes a very responsible owner to deal with this dog. When I first became involved with the breed, I was shocked at how strict and rigid the proper breeders were before they would allow you to purchase one. Videos of your home and yard were required. Something akin to a background check was the norm as well.

When I got into breeding, further shocks, when I was made to sign a document, which amongst other things, made me promise that I would euthanize a puppy if it didn’t meet standard. I was appalled. Then I understood. It was to protect the dog, keep the line pure.

So many breeds have been diluted and in that dilution, the dogs are afflicted with terrible health problems that lead to a short life of suffering. That was reason one. Reason two was again about dilution, and you can’t have a Fila with crossed wiring, a dog who becomes a threat to everyone and itself.

This dog is capable of extreme power and action, so one that is unstable is very dangerous and could lead to great harm, and ultimately the poor dog being put down, not to mention harm to others.

I am constantly searching for new breeds that are as pure as can be. I have fallen in love with the Caucasian Ovtcharka, a dog so primitive that it requires even more care than the Fila. There is a grand majesty and beauty in these animals. You need to be as devoted an owner as the dog is a companion.

It breaks my heart to see puppy mill and back yard breeding that dilutes the genetics and allows for poor, helpless animals to be born sick and on course for pain. How does this relate to music? The creative gene pool, its dilution, and how influence shapes everyone as a musician and particularly, as a songwriter.

When I first began playing guitar as a kid, I was influenced by Ritchie Blackmore, Johnny Winter, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton and others of that ilk. They were influenced by the great blues players, Ritchie by classical music and a bit of Django. My playing reflected those influences. By the time I became a producer, everyone played like G.I.T and was using scales and runs, far beyond our beloved pentatonic.

They were influenced by Steve Vai, Joe Satriani and Randy Rhodes. I couldn’t play anywhere near their technical proficiency, but many couldn’t bend a note and make it cry like B.B. King. This new generation of gun slingers were far removed from the influences that shaped the playing of say, Jimmy Page, and therefore sounded nothing like him. Good and bad, I suppose.

They could dazzle you with mastery but not really move you to cry. That is only my opinion. Django could do both, but he was much closer to the source, or perhaps even the source himself for many.

The Beatles were influenced by the great songs and writing of Motown, the Brill Building, Stax, Chess, Buddy Holly, etc. The Stones, even more so by Stax and Chess, but the point is, their influence shaped their style and what they were drawing from was closer to the core.

That core was of course was the blues, gospel, etc. You have to wonder if Lennon and McCartney’s extraordinary sense of melody would have been the same if not exposed closer to the core. You can see how their lyrical depth altered after being exposed to Bob Dylan, who of course was influenced by so many greats, closer to the source.

Nothing is original; everything is a result of synthesis and interpretation, shaped directly by our influences and exposure.

Our ears and familiarity is shaped very early on in America, by virtue of the lullabies we are sung as babies, further permeated by the first scale we learn in school as kids; the major scale. In Europe that is very different in terms of exposure and explains why there is sometimes a lack of music translating from country to country.

Analyze most “hit” songs, and I am sure you will find a very familiar intervallic distance and core scale that the melody is built from. Instant familiarity and it doesn’t “grate” against our senses. You’ll find this in the beauty of Buddy Holly, Brill Building, Motown, etc. and certainly in the genius melodies of the Beatles.

India’s influences were not of the standard for a “kid her age”. She was highly influenced by exposure to the greats, such as Donnie Hathaway, Stevie Wonder, Sam Cooke, Marvin Gaye etc. The music her parents surrounded her with influenced her, and set her on the course to find her own interpretations of that influence.

You can hear name check them on the intro and outro of Acoustic Soul. Her influences shaped her music, as it does to all of us. Her exposure was deeper than someone of her generations and her music hit a nerve, because it was a beautiful interpretation of a core that was deeply imbedded in the psyche of the public.

There was very little dilution from the source. Just a beautiful majesty.

Bang a Gong

It was a big event, and playing Madison Square Garden, for even the most jaded, is always a big event. Backstage was insanity and it was tough speaking with everyone and going from person to person, great fun and a great feeling of accomplishment.

This amazing team had pulled something off, and pulled it off big. This tremendously talented young lady, less than a year ago, was playing coffee houses, and here she was the talk of the town, literally. It felt amazing and was a moment of pride that is hard to come by in this business. As I said, India was very shy and not one to go mingle, so even bringing her over to meet N’Sync was tough, let alone the horde of others who all wanted to talk with her.

It was a wonderful moment for all that included some odd ones as well. Of course, the Fellini like grip of the absurd on my world couldn’t just dissipate, could it? There was a quizzical moment for some of the Universal top brass as they asked me, “Who is the guy is the flowing outfit with the laminate?”, my response was, “That is the spiritual advisor, the psychic.”

The responses were interesting, yet there he was, all aglow and ready to spew forth his typical genius observations, like when India said she was hungry and he would respond, “I was sensing you had a stomach ache.” Complete moron, who was looking to ride the rocket. A great moment was when he, yes the psychic, gave me a demo.

A demo of his songs well not really songs. They were him hitting a fucking bell over and over, but they were titled as individual songs. This was an amazing moment for me in a long and storied career, being given a demo of a bell being hit by a guy who pretended to be in touch with another dimension. Fuck me.

During India’s show another interesting thing happened. Here at Madison Square Garden, her mom came out, took the microphone from India and proceeded to sing the song, while India played along. Then to make matters worse, at the end of the song she said into the mike, “I love you Jack Ponti.” And walked off the stage, as yet again Universal brass stared at me.

I had no idea that was going to happen and I assume it did because India’s mom used to sing and I guess this was a dream to sing at MSG, and so be it. India’s mom loved me and then hated me. It was a journey unto itself. We were very close in the beginning and she would call me constantly, she also had a nickname of “Jack A Roony”, which she would exclusively refer to me as. She was a terrific lady in many ways.

She was eventually put on as her daughter’s designer and wardrobe person, but it was further than that. She owned the merchandise and that was interesting. Well get deeper into that later.

After the show, we had our little backstage soiree, which wasn’t much of a soiree and India left early, with the psychic, my sister, my daughter and me, leaving Joey to drive back to NJ alone, but not after making sure his presence was felt by everyone. I think by the end of the night everyone assumed they knew Joey, and I could hear him saying to N’Sync, “Fellas, good to see you, keep doing good.” Joey is remarkable!

Joey was still schmoozing with all of his new friends, while we left to drop India and the psychic off in Harlem for some advanced reading of some sort.

I really applaud her spirituality but it caused some issues and near disasters, like the night she called me and said she was leaving the tour to go to Africa. It took hours to convince her not to and then hours smoothing away issues with the consulate who had set up the whole thing and now had people at the airport awaiting her arrival, or so I was told.

This of course was suggested by one of the many spiritual advisors now circling the camp. Genius idea, go to Africa, now, cancel the Sade tour, the spirit world says you have to. She was a perfect target as she was deeply spiritual, incredibly sincere, wonderfully forgiving and had a general concept that people were as honest and real as she was. I don’t care what she thinks; these clowns were all full of shit and played into everything for one reason and one reason only; to get a paycheck.

Everyone now wanted a paycheck and everyone got one.

The Other Garden Party

Now comes Madison Square Garden, the apex of every artists dream and the big show, really big show. India is going to play two nights there with Sade and it’s all media frenzy with a guest list that would knock your socks off.

Funny enough, people were taking bets if I would show up or not. I found that comical. Though I long threw travel to the wind, I wouldn’t have missed that for all the money in the world. I will repeat, it all begins and ends with the artist, but as with every artist, success is a team effort and we worked our asses off night and day to make this happen.

I felt great pride for India, great pride for Motown and great pride for our management company, because if one of those cogs were out of place, I assure you, it would have never happened to the extent that it did.

It was great artist married to great label married to great management.
I don’t typically toot my own horn, or pull my own dick, but on this one, I know what we did and how much we brought to the table. In my entire career, I have never worked as hard and with as much conviction, sweat and diligence, as I did with India. It took every ounce; of every skill set I could find, to pull shit off. This was a twenty four hour a day job, filled with drama and adversity at every step, it wasn’t easy and I wanted to quit a thousand times, but I knew we could pull it off.

You bet your ass, I was going to MSG and I did. I called my old friend Joey and we rolled up to NY, my sister and daughter was there from the day before and they were telling me how many people were betting on my no show. I was laughing my ass off on the drive up. Joey was laughing too, but Joey is fucking priceless and was the perfect companion for that ride. I’d known Joey for decades.

Joey was just Joey, which was beautiful! He didn’t care, like backstage at Mellencamp when he informed John, “You did good, you write good songs.”, or upon meeting Giants quarterback, Kerry Collins, “You did good Terry.” even though his name is Kerry. Me and Joey had played in bands together in the 80s, and neither of us changed much, in attitude or appearance. We roll up to the Garden and head backstage.

It was pretty funny seeing the shock on people’s faces when I actually showed up. I had no idea this mystery thing had grown to such epidemic proportions. I was in the process of speaking with India, making sure she was ok, when our security chief pulled me aside and said he needed me to speak with some people. He brought me to a private room (I took Joey of course) and introduced me to N’Sync, at which point Joey told them, “Hey fellas, you guys did good.” Perfect!

They, especially Justin, wanted to meet India. This was the height of their fame and let me tell you, they were very nice kids, very down to Earth and very confused by Joey, who was now literally patting them on their backs, repeating that they did good.

It was pretty hectic and a star studded backstage for the first show from Sade in almost a decade and the new shiny explosion named India.Arie. Then comes the moment everyone was waiting for, the first face to face between Kedar and me. I walked up to him, introduced myself, and we started hugging and acting like two lost friends from high school. Kedar looked at me and said, “You look like a rock star.”

I guess he, like most people, expected me to look very different (like my Roy Thomas Baker moment), I have a very gruff voice and I think they expect someone older and taller and perhaps with at least half an eye on fashion, and I dress like a bum or less. Kedar and I truly showed each other respect and I think the ice completely melted at that moment and it was very genuine between both of us.

We did something magical together and we just banged heads along the way, but in reality, we admired the Hell out of each other and you could feel it at that moment.

Everyone was relieved.

Sparks and Ignition

Via Mellencamp we suddenly had exposure and access to other radio formats, like AAA, Hot AC, AC, Top 40, and Mainstream Rock. John was gracious (or smart) enough to bring India on his radio interviews and that opened up a whole new world for us and the very world I was trying in vain to reach.

With John we did the VH1 Fashion Awards, the Christmas tree lighting in Rockefeller Center on NBC, late night TV and a ton of other appearances that would have been completely closed to her as an artist without any palpable fan base outside of what we had. It was a very important turning point for us. She had a great urban fan base, the love of Oprah, stars singing her praises, a highly visible tour, with an artist people were dying to see, who also happened to have a bit older demographic and now a duet with an icon and rebel rocker.

Connecting the dots, time after time and finding new consumers in our police sketch.
We were happening, hitting on all eight cylinders and it was working. India never lost her urban base; on the contrary, she grew it while also developing a fan base outside of urban. This is exactly what happens when the team is working in synergy and all the dots are connecting.

The Sade tour was wonderful, but you’d be surprised on how very little units will move when you are an opening act. It indeed adds to the picture and allows you to maximize being in that town by hitting all media outlets, but it really doesn’t move the needle.

It does on the indie scale, but not on this scale. It’s just another (yet very important) cog in the machine and another well put, repeated impression. At this juncture, India finally agreed to the GAP campaign, so now we added massive television adverting to our arsenal and the “feed” of awareness multiplied thusly. It was still very difficult as India was fighting back against the wave and was having a very hard time adjusting to her new found fame, so much in fact, that I had to bring on security because she wasn’t very comfortable with the daily interaction that could happen out of nowhere.

Around this time we got hit with one of the lawsuits that would come our way. Regardless of who you are, once you have success, you get sued. These are called “deep pocket” suits, because that’s the entire concept; sue someone and hope they realize a settlement is cheaper than the fight. Most times it is.

There happened to be a Latin singer named India or La India or something like that. She had trademarked the name India for anything concerning music, period. Now India.Arie”s real given birth name is India Arie Simpson and here we were actually being sued over it!

Unfortunately we didn’t have wiggle room, can you fucking imagine that? We had no choice but to settle and pay this person for the right to use India’s own name. Ridiculous, but she trademarked, copy written and etched in stone the exclusive use of that name. Deep pockets number one, and a few more to come, like the raging lunatic in Chicago who claimed India must have broken into her apartment years ago and “stole” her ideas from her secret notebook and then wrote songs. OK, lunatic, we didn’t settle that one and told her to bring it on.

Dear Lord the nerve, and it went away. How about the ex-boyfriend who claimed he once uttered a sentence with a phrase in it similar to one of her song titles and now he was claiming co-authorship. Had he even been a songwriter, musician, co-writer or anything that resembled a creative force? No, but he wanted credit for inspiration over a phrase in a sentence. That one was also told; bring it on and I wish that went to court because it would have been priceless.

People are so fucked up.