SOMETIME IN THE middle
of 1977, thanks to help and some timely promotion by Maria Corvelone, (in 1980
Maria would procure a gig for me at F. Scott’s in Venice which proved to be
more than interesting) Silverspoon signed a contract with The William Morris
Agency and the agent assigned to us was an up-and coming hot-shot named Bob
Ringe. According to Stephen, it was the first time William Morris had signed an
act without a recording contract. We had weekly meetings at the office on El
Camino Drive in Beverly Hills, but I can't for the life of me tell you what
went on at those meetings. Did they get us any gigs? No. Were any promotional
pictures taken of the band? No. Did they look over any contracts the band had
pending? No. Were we wined and dined at the expense of the agency? Once or
twice. Did they listen to all the songs to determine which were the most
commercial or saleable? Not really. What did they do, you might ask? Nothing
really. As I said, we did have weekly meetings with Bob which were nothing more
than extended lip service—flapping lips moving nothing but stale, putrid, hot
air. It stunk. Having an agent served no purpose other than bragging rights at
The Rainbow, or at parties. I think it got Stephen and Blair laid a few times
and people might have bought us a few drinks— that's it!
Almost a year had gone
by since the movie Helter Skelter was released, and there was no talk
from Bob or anyone else outside the band about a soundtrack album; we all
thought this was a huge mistake. There was a meeting set at the Chinese
restaurant, Mr. Chow's I think it was called, right down the street from
William Morris. That was on August 16, 1977. Bob, Robin S., and the rest of
Silverspoon all sat down at the table for lunch, had a few drinks and we
pleaded our case. Bob seemed like he was leaning our direction and was about to
get the ball rolling when the waiter came over and announced to everyone at the
table that Elvis Presley had just died. We were all devastated. After that
nothing got done. The whole industry just closed shop. It was like: “So Bob, I
know Elvis just died but don't you think you should get on the stick and make
some calls?”
“Nah,” he said. “I don't
feel like it now, and I don't think anyone will be in the mood to discuss
business at a time like this.” How many more opportunities would Silverspoon be
exposed to only to have fate, or whatever you might call it, slap us in the
face just when we thought we were going to be on our way to the big-time—the
Valhalla, the pinnacle of rock ‘n roll glory. I guess the Rock and Roll hall of
fame was going to have to wait a few more years than we expected. It felt like
we were a cursed band, a real hard luck bunch of Beverly Hills brats. For me, I
felt like I didn’t need to be a star—I wanted to be a working musician and
respected songwriter. The only other member of the band who felt like that was Blair—the
Baltimore Kid. The only thing was, Blair was living in Las Vegas commuting to
LA on the weekends. I needed something a little more permanent and less
transient than that.
Getting back to Bob
Ringe, he had problems of his own to deal with at the time. He was going
through a bitter divorce and was starting to abuse drugs and alcohol, and I
guess I could hardly blame him; his soon to be ex-wife was a beautiful blonde
form Sweden or Norway and had left him with a big house in Encino Hills with
mortgage payments, car payments and God knows what else. I don't think there
were any children involved.
I found out later Bob
had regretted signing us to William Morris. He thought we were a bunch of
spoiled brat, dilettante, ego maniacs who were strung out on drugs and booze.
That was the pot calling the kettle black, or it takes one to know one, or any
other expression you could name indicating someone who was just as, if not,
more abusive than we were.
After that horrendous
week, we knew in our heart of hearts our contract with The William Morris
Agency wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. With no agent, no Jet Records
contract (which I will go into later), not much of anything going for us, I retreated
to the security of my solo career and my Robin, although in a week or so we
would meet a musician that would change things in mine and Robin's life
forever. But at that moment I felt like I had some serious drinking to do—so
did the rest of Silverspoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment