OUT TO LUNCH

This is abridged from my book 'You Don't Have To Say You Love Me' (voted Number 11 by The Observer in its '50 Greatest Music Books Ever')

FORTY YEARS AGO I WROTE A BOOK CALLED ‘YOU DON’T TO SAY YOU LOVE ME’ (THE SAME TITLE AS A SONG I’D CO-WRITTEN THE LYRICS FOR). RE-READING IT THE OTHER DAY I CAME ACROSS A PIECE ABOUT PLAYING A TAPE FOR AN A&R MAN. SINCE THEN I MIGHT HAVE SLIGHTLY CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT RECORD COMPANIES (THOUGH NOT MUCH), BUT MY GUESS IS - ANY ASPIRING ARTIST OR MANAGER HAVING TO DO THE SAME TODAY WILL FIND NOTHING MUCH HAS CHANGED.

In the beginning you take your newly made record to the man who makes judgements. You're made to wait half an hour even though you had an appointment, then he starts off by telling you he has to dash off to lunch in five minutes. You have a tape in your hand which is the result of someone- who-cared writing a song, someone-who-cared singing it, someone-who-cared producing it, and someone-who-couldn't-afford-it paying for it. It's probably a load of rubbish, because most tapes taken into most record companies are just that. But the fact that effort and money has gone into it means it deserves some good objective judgement, and who knows, you may be lucky. This may actually be one of the winners.

Mr Judgement buzzes his secretary and says, ‘Tell Jo I'll be at the restaurant in five minutes.’

He laces the tape with one hand while he puts his jacket on over his shoulders. He presses the button on the machine and it runs silently through the leader. You hope and pray the phone doesn't ring just as the first note comes up. That first note has impact. Everyone worked hard on that first note. In the studio you remixed the song twice just to get that first note right, and Teddy, the engineer, told everyone, 'That note alone could make it a number one record.'

The phone rings. Mr Judgement grabs it and says, 'Yeah,' just as the first note comes up. Then he talks right through the intro and into the first line of the vocal.

There's a slightly weak bit coming up. It's the one thing you'd like to have changed if there'd been more time in the studio. Judgement puts down the phone and listens to this bad bit with great attention. But no matter, the chorus is coming up and that's great. Here it comes, 1, 2, 3, 4...

Mr Judgement is looking over your head at someone. You turn around. A man standing in the doorway is shouting something over the music. 'D'you know where the compilation masters are?'

'Sorry, no idea, you might ask Sid, he had them.'

'What about lunch? You going with anyone?'

'Yeah, Jo, she's down there waiting for me now. Why don't you join us? I've just got to listen to this. It's nearly over.'

Judgement glances at the tape machine and checks that the song's almost finished. The other man leaves. The fade-out fades. There's a great bit just at the end of it, just as it goes to silence. Everyone thought it would be a great idea to have this really good bit right at the end of the fade. It'd make people want to listen to the whole thing over again. But Judgement snaps the tape machine off just before it gets there.

There's a horrible silence. He flicks the rewind switch, fiddles with his jacket and gets his arms in the sleeves. He asks you, 'Got a photograph?'

You scramble in your briefcase and fish one out, put it on his desk. But by the time it gets there, he's busy checking through his wallet and forgets to look at it.

'I'm sorry,' he tells you, 'I've got to dash. Lunch appointment, I'm afraid.'

You raise a questioning eyebrow. It's all you dare do. You don't really want to have his answer just yet.

He says, 'I'll listen to it again later and let you know. OK?' But at the same time he takes the tape off the machine and puts it into your hand. 'Sorry to rush off. Nice meeting you.'

You follow him out of the office and rather stupidly give the tape to his secretary. 'Er, Mr Judgement said he'd like to listen to this tape again later, so I guess I better leave it with you.'

She smiles efficiently. 'Good idea. Why don't you give him a call tomorrow?'

And of course, you do. And the next day and the next day and the next day. And eventually, on the fifth day, Miss Efficiency tells you, 'Mr Judgement's decided it's not quite right for us. Where would you like us to send the tape?'

And none of this is anything to do with being a beginner in the business. It happens to everyone, at every level, all the time. Because, whether you're a record producer or an artist or a manager, the record companies are the enemy.

They're the voice of gloom. A barrier between enthusiastic creativity and the waiting public. Record companies always play safe, lose faith, change their minds, and hesitate. They're a rest home for the mentally sluggish. They're overstaffed. They're out to lunch. They're in a meeting. Beating about the bush. Avoiding decisions, and deadlines, and phone calls. Overpaid executives asking the messenger boy his opinion because, after all, it's the kids on the street who buy the records, isn't it?

TO SUBSCRIBE, PRESS THE LINK AND LEAVE YOUR EMAIL - IT’S FREE