(part 207) LAWYERS, CONTRACTS, AND PUBLISHING

Out of the four songs recorded, "The Sun Don't Shine In Barrooms" was another of the studio tracks. I was screwing around with the vocal, and just kind of fell into a straight country performance as a joke, but it worked so well we decided to pursue it seriously in the studio.

Rather than shy away from the strict country lean of the song, we followed it. With Dave Pearlman's excellent steel guitar playing as the guide, and Ben Benay's spot on Les Paul licks, the song started playing itself.

Aided by Colin Cameron's steady hand on bass, and Jim Ponder's drum work, the studio performance surprised us all. When I listened to the track playback I had no doubt as to the way the vocal should be done.

It hung together so well that it invited the vocal, as opposed to trying to figure out how to do it. It just said, "lay it down country like you mean it!" I overemphasized the twang, but again, when I heard the playback it sounded tight and natural.

Without planning any of this in the beginning, it became for me, a lesson in recording. Sometimes what happens naturally is better than your original plan, if you simply ride along with it.

"Barrooms" was exactly that, we just went along for the ride. Dennis, being somewhat of a country oriented person wearing a suit and tie, thought it was a hit record, and we all tended to agree with him.

It was not the direction we'd set out to achieve, but "Barrooms" and "Outlaw" set their own course, and for the most part we just went along on instinct.

It was then up to Dennis and George, in large part, to prove to themselves they could pick up the ball and run with it, something they were never able to do.

Wanting to be, and even believing you are, in the music/record business does not suffice for hard work toward that end. Dennis's problem was that he was a lawyer, and he thought like a lawyer.

Instead of pursuing a label so the record could be released, he concentrated on creating an iron clad contract for me to sign. He was a studier, so he went to other music attorneys, and asked them their opinions about what was important.

The end result was a contract that gave him and George control of all the songs I had written for the past two years, and all the songs I was going to write for the next five years.

This would have included the songs I'd written for the RCA recordings, which I said I couldn't do. Those songs were in RPJ Music, my company, and were partly owned by the family of my ex-girlfriend.

Dennis said he didn't care about my previous arrangements regarding the publishing of those earlier songs, and continued to pursue his plan to control the publishing rights.

I continued to refuse, because the man who had made their existence possible, to a great degree, as recordings, was now dead. His family had a right, in my opinion, to partial ownership of what had been created when I'd been involved with them.

As usual, my standing on some principle I believed in, led to the eventual demise of the entire deal. Dennis and George became convinced that controlling the publishing was what was important.

This of course was true, in one way, but was the catalyst, as it is in many cases, for the destruction of all else. it served to place Dennis and me at odds with each other, and led in time to the collapse of any further agreement after the one year expired.

When's It Gonna Be Tomorrow....Demo 1980-81

(part 206) THE STORY CONTINUES

In 1980 I was able to reach a verbal agreement with Dennis and his law partner, George, with a written contract soon to follow.

As I wrote earlier, I was going to be paid $500 a week for a minimum of one year. The agreement allowed me to rent a small house in West Hollywood for $750 a month.

It was a lot of money for me to spend, but it was my new home, and I did a lot of work there writing songs and making demo recordings.


Initially I was quite pleased with my life, and began to allow myself the luxury of dreaming about new and positive possibilities for the future.

My nights were set aside for AA meetings, where once again I was viewed more favorably by various members, simply because I wasn't broke and miserable anymore.

"Everybody loves a winner," I thought, and I mused that my new supporters had not too long ago been my worst detractors. This was truly one of the more callous realities of my experience with Southern California 12 step programs in the 70's and 80's.

None the less, I did enjoy the freedom that a regular salary and home made possible, and once again I fell into the "Hey look at me, I'm successful" bullshit.

After a few months, Dennis and I decided, it would make sense for me to get a band together and go into the studio and cut some of the songs I'd been writing.

He and George were gung-ho on this idea, because they saw themselves as two hot-shot go-getters who believed they could and would conquer the world of music the same way others they read about had.

I did not try to quell their enthusiasm with horror stories about the music business. Their beliefs about the future, and the notion of guaranteed success, served my needs as well.

Once again, I contacted Ben Benay, and asked if he would be interested in putting together a band to do some studio recording with me. I told him everybody would get paid in whatever way he suggested, and that the money wouldn't be a problem.

Ben was excited that I contacted him, and agreed immediately to take on the project. He came up with Colin Cameron on bass, Jim Ponder on drums, Dave Pearlman on steel guitar, John York on backup vocals and guitar, Amy Philbin and her girls doing backup vocals, and himself on lead guitar, arrangements, and co-producer and arranger with me.

As usual, I made some demo tapes of my own at home, and then gave them to Ben so he could make up leed sheets for the players.

He also incorporated my lead guitar parts for the song "Outlaw" in the video below. There were four songs recorded in the studio in 1980, but there were many other songs that remain in only demo form to this day.

OUTLAW

(part 205) SHADOW HUNTER

I WAIT LIKE A BEGGAR
AT THE DOOR OF THIEVES
HOPING FOR CRUMBS
FROM THEIR TABLE

A TABLE BUILT
WITH MY OWN HANDS...
FASHIONED FROM FINE WOOD
GATHERED IN MY YOUTH...

I STAND LIKE A PAUPER
NEXT TO THIER LIES
CONDEMNED BY RIDICULE
FOR MY MISERY

MISERY
I SUFFER
BY THE VERY ONES
WHO BARTER NOW

OVER THAT WHICH
THEY TOOK FROM ME...
PROFITING FROM IT
AS I STARVED

MY PATIENCE RUNNING THIN
I PLEDGE TO MYSELF
I WILL NOT DIE
UNTIL THEY SUFFER...

I WHO WAIT
LIKE A HUNGRY WOLF
FOR THEIR EXIT...
THEIR SWIFT DEMISE

I THE WOLF...
THE SHADOW HUNTER
WELL SUITED AGAINST
THEIR SOFT FLESH...

Bobby Jameson Oct, 1 2009

(part 204) THE CHASING WIND

I WALK IN THE ZONE
BETWEEN HEAVEN
AND HELL
LIFE AND DEATH

I WANDER BENEATH
THE GREAT TIMBERS
OF CONSCIOUSNESS
LIKE AN ANT

SO VAST IS THE
UNIVERSE OF THOUGHT
SO ALIVE THE COLLECTIVE
HEAP OF EMOTIONS

THE PHYSICAL LIFE PAINFUL
THE THOUGHT OF NOT
ENDURING IT ANY LONGER
A DREAM OF FREEDOM

HANGING ON TO THREADS
OF PROMISES FROM
HUMAN LIPS
THAT SINK LIKE STONES

IN THE STILL WATERS
OF THE HEART
NEVER TO APPEAR AGAIN
AS IF NEVER UTTERED

ALL THAT IS LEFT
ARE THE RIPPLES
ON THE POND
AND THE CHASING WIND

AS IT WHISPERS
TO THE STARS
I AM HERE
I AM HERE

Bobby Jameson Sep 2009

(part 203) DENNIS AND GEORGE.....DUCEY AND LUCEY

Once again, I set my thoughts into believing that a deal with Dennis and his partner George could, or more precisely, would come to pass, just as I had prior to the RCA deal.

I continued to paint the house I'd been working on by day, and focused on expecting something better, and going to AA meetings at night. Whenever the doubt would creep in, I would expel it immediately and replace it with a more positive thought.

I remember what it felt like when I got word that the new deal was a go. In the twinkling of an eye my life changed again. I finished up with the house painting, and silently vowed I'd never have to do it again because of being broke.

As I walked down the driveway toward the street, and away from that job, I felt a deep sense of freedom and joy for the first time in nearly two years.

It was near the end of 1979, and I was to be paid $500 a week to write songs and make demos of them, for a minimum of one year. I was ecstatic.

"I was going to get my own place again and be able to pay the rent. I was going to have a job doing what I loved, and I was going to feel good about myself, really good," I thought.

* * *

Back in the early 60's I'd been a smiley faced ball of fire before encountering the likes of Tony Alamo, Andrew Oldham, and Randy Wood.

After finishing my work on the Chris Lucey album, Songs Of Protest And Anti Protest, for a mere $200, I understood that people in the record and music business were completely untrustworthy, and would lie about anything and everything to get what they were after.

It appeared to me, at twenty years old, that I had stepped into a world of con-men who used flattery and dishonesty as tactics to accomplish stealing from the young and naive, of which I was certainly one.

My understanding, in 1965, led me to refuse to sign an agreement with Mira/Surrey, put forth after I'd done the work on the album.

Once I'd completed my assigned task on Songs Of Protest, the so called contractual agreement was presented to me in Randy Wood's office.

In that closed door session with me, Wood, and Somer, Wood's attorney, those two men set about to persuade me to sign the Somer-penned document. It was without any other person present to protect my interests.

It was me against the two of them, and I was twenty years old. In a spur of the moment maneuver, the half inch thick contract, which I'd never seen or even heard about until that moment, was produced out of the blue and I was told to sign it.

Feeling completely out gunned, I asked what I would get if I signed it? To that, Randy Wood exploded and told me, "I just let you make an entire album at my expense, using your own songs, you little son of a bitch, and now you want more?"

I remember thinking at that moment that he had taken the situation from, Bobby Jameson had helped him out of the jam he was in with the Ducey record, and turned it around to be, he'd now done me a favor.

I was confused and uncomfortable in the confines of Wood's office, and said I'd think about it, but doubted if I would sign it. As I tried to leave, Randy grabbed me and threw up against the wall.

He began screaming in my face that I was an ungrateful little prick and that he was trying to help me, but I was too stupid to know it and was trying to fuck him.

With his hands tightly grasping the front of my shirt, and his body pinning me against the wall, I stared into his contorted face while he yelled at me. I looked over at Abe Somer, for help, but he just stood there with a smirk on his face, holding the contract in his hand.

At that moment Randy seemed to realize what he was doing and released his grip on me saying, "Go ahead, get outta here. Get outta my sight."

Shaken, but relieved, I vacated Wood's office, and remember the scene as I opened the door and looked at the larger Mira/Surrey office space.

Everybody was stone cold silent and stared at their desks, the wall, or the floor. No one said shit to me. I was just there by myself looking for a face, a gesture, something.

I looked down the length of the room to Betty Chiapetta's office door, which was open. I waited for a moment, but nothing, absolutely nothing. I left alone, and everyone knew I had refused to sign a contract for Chris Lucey. They had heard everything.

* * *

In the deal with Dennis, I set it up so I received an ongoing salary for a year. It was a way of guaranteeing that I would not only get paid for my efforts, but that it would continue for a set amount of time.

I knew, through bitter experience that what I would be paid would have to be gotten up front, or as a salary arrangement, because trying to get anything after the fact was an empty promise that I'd heard too many times before.

(part 202) CURIOUS DAYS

DREAM MACHINE
IN FLASHING SKY
TWIRLS INSIDE
MY EMERALD EYE
LIKE SPINNING GOLD
AGAINST THE SUN
THERE'S NOWHERE LEFT
FOR ME TO RUN

CONTINUITY
OF TIME
SPLIT LIKE ATOMS
WITH EACH RHYME
IN SENTENCES
OF BLURRING MIND
RELEASE ME LOVE
FOR LOVE IS BLIND

TANGENT'S SCRIBBLED
ON A WALL
NO ONE COMES
HERE AFTER ALL
I ALONE
HAVE READ EACH WORD
UNSPOKEN STILL
AND STILL UNHEARD

MAGNIFIED AGAINST
THE BLAZE
OF HOVERED HONED
AND GHOSTLY DAYS
WHERE LIGHT IS BORN
AGAINST THE BLACK
OF YESTERYEARS
AND LOOKING BACK

BACK INTO
THE REALM OF FATE
WHERE ANGELS SCREAM
AND BUZZARDS WAIT
TO EAT THE FLESH
OF CURIOUS DAYS
NOW LOST INSIDE
THE ENDLESS MAZE

Bobby Jameson Sep 11, 2009