Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and Museum at One Key Plaza

Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and Museum at One Key Plaza

Photo: Joe Sohm/Visions of America/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

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Cleveland's Music Scene Mainstays Discuss The City's Past, Present & Post-Pandemic Future

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To celebrate Cleveland's integral role in today's music landscape, the city's movers and shakers tell GRAMMY.com about the current state of the music scene in C-town
Lizzie Manno
Membership
May 20, 2021 - 2:00 pm

At this point, Cleveland's integral role in music history is well-documented. The first-ever rock and roll concert was held there in 1952. A few decades later, the city helped catapult the careers of greats like David Bowie, Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen. It's also the hometown of Kid Cudi, Chrissie Hynde, Cloud Nothings and Machine Gun Kelly.

But it's not merely in the shadows of the triangular, lakefront Rock & Roll Hall of Fame museum or that famous scene of Spinal Tap getting lost in the bowels of a Cleveland theater. It's a treasure trove of music and art in the here and now.

Like many cities, Cleveland's music scene has faced its fair share of obstacles, from the COVID-19 pandemic, the relocation of prominent local musicians, and the decades-long relegation from regular tour stop to a not-as-frequent destination. Still, its artists continue to make waves on their own terms.

To offer their excitement, tough love and observations on the current state of the Cleveland music scene, GRAMMY.com caught up with some of the city's movers and shakers.

Name a label, person, organization, band, etc. that deserves more recognition for their great work within the scene.

Anne Nickoloff (Life & Culture Reporter at Cleveland.com. Host of Sunny Day at WRUW 91.1 FM): I'd like to name two local venue owners/orgs that have done some really crucial things, in the past year, especially: Sean Watterson (Happy Dog) and Cindy Barber (Beachland Ballroom). When the pandemic shut down venues, Sean did a ton of work with NIVA (National Independent Venue Association) to get the Save Our Stages Act attention in Cleveland and beyond.

Besides her work with Beachland Ballroom, which pivoted to host outdoor and socially distanced shows during the pandemic, Cindy also runs a music nonprofit, Cleveland Rocks: Past, Present and Future. During the pandemic, that nonprofit gave grants to almost 100 local musicians and venue owners, and fundraised for venues through auctions and virtual shows.

She also helped put on some paying performance opportunities for musicians during the pandemic, which were hard to come by!

Emanuel Wallace (Music journalist/photographer for outlets like RapReviews, Cleveland Scene Magazine, and Cleveland.com): Mourning [A] BLKstar is one of the Cleveland-based bands that are doing great things. Their style spans across multiple genres, and their sound is continuously evolving. It's truly unlike anything else coming out of Cleveland at the moment. The group's latest album, The Cycle, is amazing, and MAB landed a cover story from The Wire magazine.

Two other individuals who deserve recognition for their work within the scene are Grog Shop's Wallace Settles and Beachland's James Carol. Between the two of them, they are responsible for booking a hefty percentage of shows at these legendary venues—especially on the local side.

Haley Morris (Musician in Pleasure Leftists, Himiko aka Kiernan Paradise, Donkey Bugs. Owner of Memorabilia Productions. Host at WCSB 89.3 FM): Lisa Miralia, musician/WCSB DJ, does a lot of community building in the realm of experimental music in Cleveland and has for a long time. She's everybody's cheerleader and really puts her soul into creating music events.

Rachel Hunt, WRUW DJ/performer, puts Cleveland artists on spotlight every week on her show and does so much work to support venues, performers of all kinds, not to mention working to raise money and develop safer spaces/practices within venues and various organizations.

In Training are a group of DJs and electronic musicians that started in Cleveland, but moved and worked very hard to program and bring live electronic dance music experiences through Cleveland and promote LGBTQIA awareness in the scene and create a safe space. I think that even though they aren't in Cleveland anymore, their efforts helped push the scene in a more diverse direction that didn't leave with them.

Sam Harmon is a DJ, experimental musician (Glacial23) and engineer who has been making great music for so long and who also works with a group he helped start, Makers Alliance. They do a lot of experimental art and help people learn to build instruments and technology.

What challenges does the Cleveland music scene face now, and what changes would you like to see?

Lisa Claus (Owner of LC Media, LLC. Programming Committee Member and Northeast Ohio Music Relief Fund Grantmaking Committee Member at Cleveland Rocks: Past, Present and Future): The challenges stem from the same challenges faced by various segments in Cleveland: Lack of communication and connection to other important, decision-making entities.

When discussing the city of Cleveland, you hear the term "silos" frequently used to describe various organizations and stakeholders in Cleveland. These silos develop their own separate planning, programs, and events, sometimes competing with other entities for money and marketing. We need to work together, especially now that we are emerging from COVID.

I would like to see coordination and investment among the various stakeholders in Cleveland: City and county government, education, nonprofits, technology, finance, arts, and so on. We need an umbrella music or arts organization to serve as a resource for the Cleveland music and arts community. This organization could serve as a liaison between the music community and the previously mentioned stakeholders in Cleveland.

Music and arts as a whole need to be discussed in terms of "economic development" for the city/county, not just as an afterthought or extra job that takes place after a person's "day job."

LaToya Kent (Lead vocalist/songwriter in Mourning [A] BLKstar): Cleveland doesn't have a strong hub for managers, booking agents, and tour support for artists that want to reach a larger audience. A lot of Cleveland artists put their own music out, create their own independent labels, or have to seek out larger labels from other states or countries because of this.

I would love to see us have a stronger foundation in support of our artists branching out. I believe it will represent our scene in an innovative way worldwide.

Morris: I think that the challenges Cleveland faces aren't necessarily Cleveland-specific problems and are pretty relatable to the world at large and broader music scene. Namely, I think "The Straight Boys Club" as a concept is a very plaguing and big issue here. It's [intense] and alienating particularly because it is a small town.

Certain people glom onto a certain type of thing or style and tend to gatekeep it, and those people tend to be men. A lot of the artists/musicians around who are most successful tend to be men. And I love men; don't get me wrong. I work mostly with them.

But it's pretty glaring to me that opportunity, respect, credibility, and the benefit of the doubt is generally afforded to men by way of "the club"—and a ton of mediocrity at that—before a woman stands a chance. That's not even talking about basic dignity and the double standards that apply. The working culture within venues and bars suffer from this too.

There's not a lot of room made for women or non-binary people in experimental music or places that don't fill a type. And I'm not trying to dump on those who do fill a type. Being a type doesn't make it any less legitimate. They're absolutely wonderful, and all the power to them. The music here at the forefront, in my experience, is really homogeneous, and a lot of the standout performers tend to leave for bigger and better things and supportive communities.

I'm not saying much new there, but Chicago, Pittsburgh, Detroit—those places aren't far away, and I know a lot of people who added great diversity to the Cleveland music scene moved there instead. The West Coast, too. [That] could be for a number of reasons, but I can't help but feel the Cleveland music scene pushes people away or shuts them out entirely.

Gratefully, I don't think it's getting worse, and I see hope on the horizon as more and more artists develop and come of age who will help dismantle the hierarchy, add diversity, and also as the LGBTQIA community gains strength and support. I'm not planning to leave and hope to do more to not give certain things a pass.

For one, I appreciate having an opportunity to speak out about these issues here.

Some might say, despite its rich history, Cleveland has fallen off the map of major music markets. How do you view Cleveland in comparison to other music destinations throughout the country?

Claus: We have a major asset in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, which gives us worldwide attention. Other cities would kill to have an institution of that caliber.

But, a museum is not the same as being a music destination. It can be, but work needs to be done in saturating Cleveland with local music so that visitors see and hear music when walking down the street, visiting landmarks, even when landing at Cleveland Hopkins airport. When you visit known music cities, such as Nashville and Austin, you find live music everywhere. It gives these cities a feeling of being "alive." We need that here.

When looking at Cleveland, we have the talent, work ethic, trustworthiness, and many other desirable qualities. What we don't have is support from the city and county as an economic driver for Cleveland. In order to be taken more seriously by outsiders, we need to take ourselves seriously.

Having a Cleveland Music Office or Music Commission through the city and county government would be a great start. We could model ourselves after music cities who do offer these music offices, such as Austin, Nashville, Seattle, and Toronto. It is not necessary to try to become any of these cities, but we do need a structure to work under and to provide advocacy and offer guidance.

Nickoloff: I grew up in Lorain County and live near Cleveland now, and I've seen growth in Cleveland's music scene in my lifetime. I remember being really bummed out when my favorite artists would skip over Cleveland, but stop at Pittsburgh, Columbus, or Chicago.

But in recent years, Cleveland has become more of a destination for tours and has popped up more often. I think a lot of that is due to great local promoters and venues in the city. Large-scale live events—like Brite Winter and WonderStruck—have also become feasible, whereas fests were less of a "thing" here a decade ago.

When it comes to local artists, I tend to see this divide. There are artists who find a lot of success in Cleveland, but I've also seen artists leave the city to find success in cities with more substantial music markets. I think exposure is a really hard thing for musicians in Northeast Ohio, and "breaking out" can be tough here.

There are great local journalists dedicated to covering Northeast Ohio bands—shouts-out to Jeff Niesel, Amanda Rabinowitz, Dillon Stewart and Dave Sebille, just to name a few—and you too, Lizzie! I'm totally leaving others out, and I'm sorry to anyone I forgot!

That being said, I think it can be hard for artists to gain national or regional recognition these days, and that can cause difficulties for artists who need the exposure.

What excites you most about the future of the Cleveland music scene?

Wallace: I'm excited to see how the Cleveland music scene evolves as we continue to adapt to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. Circumstances have made artists and venues get more creative in how they reach the masses. We saw Grog Shop selling posters and collaborating with Vans, we saw the Lights On Lager to benefit Mahall's, Beachland, Happy Dog and Grog Shop. It's those things that will keep the scene going.

Nickoloff: The music, of course!! This city has such a thriving local music scene that's constantly churning out incredible tunes. Just some of the artists that I'm excited about right now: Mourning [A] BLKstar, Uno Lady, Holden Laurence, Mr. Gnome, Biitchseat, Sonder Bombs, Herzog, Extra Medium Pony, Slug Fest, FreshProduce, Grumpy Plum… the list goes on.

For the past 60 years, the Recording Academy's Chicago Chapter has recognized and celebrated the creative accomplishments of our members across the Midwest, fought for their collective rights, and supported them in times of need. We are proud of our legacies and excited to continue looking ahead. Here's to the next 60.

"Conversations": New York City Venue Owners, Promoters And Producers Discuss The Return Of Live Music

Photo of Elaine Martone at the 62nd GRAMMY Awards in 2020

Elaine Martone at the 62nd GRAMMY Awards in 2020

 

Photo: Jon Kopaloff/FilmMagic

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How Elaine Martone Overcame Self-Doubt And Became A Legendary Classical & Jazz Producer

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Women may be underrepresented in the production world, but one of its very best in classical and jazz is Elaine Martone—she opens up to GRAMMY.com about her life and career
Lior Phillips
Membership
May 14, 2021 - 10:56 am

Elaine Martone had her sights set on a life in the orchestra early on, but her quest to become a musician was missing one thing. With a degree in performance in hand from Ithaca College, while working her way into shape to audition for orchestras as an oboist, she took on a job at the classical music label Telarc as a way to earn a living while auditioning. She settled in Cleveland, Ohio, because the Cleveland Orchestra was there, and oboists with whom she studied.

But although her musical talents ran deep, "I lacked self-confidence," Martone tells GRAMMY.com. "And if a musician doesn't have confidence in themself, nobody's going to give that to them."

Rather than let that hurdle be her downfall, she dug deeper into her work at Telarc to figure out how she could create and bolster that confidence in other musicians. Martone built a GRAMMY-winning career as a recording producer specializing in classical and jazz. "Funnily enough, I'm actually producing the Cleveland Orchestra's online season now," she chuckles. "My life has made a nice full circle."

At the time she joined Telarc, the label had been in business less than three years. Founded by Jack Renner and Robert Woods (who Martone later married), the label was built for audiophiles and passionately focused on its music niche. "This was before the advent of CDs, but we were already recording with digital technology. By the time CDs came out, we were poised with high-quality recordings. And it was in Cleveland, an unusual place for a record label," Martone says with a laugh. "I knew I was on the ground floor of something cool."

Martone quickly grasped the intricacies of the recording process and learning to edit and produce recording sessions—an unusual role for a woman in the industry, both then and now. But Telarc was a new enough venture with plenty of opportunities, and its founders nurtured and encouraged her growth. Over time, the staff grew to about 50 and Martone ran the production department of 12.

"I never felt held back as a woman. I felt very lucky to grow a department and hire the right people," she says. "A key skill for my work as a producer is that I'm nurturing. I like being of service, including mentoring young women. Women represented about half of my staff."

Throughout her decades-long career, Martone indulged in her passion for orchestral music and produced essential records for legends in that genre and others. Due to her nurturing style, she made close friends along the way, producing the last 18 albums by jazz bassist Ray Brown. Since 2000, she also collaborated to great acclaim with Atlanta Symphony Orchestra music director Robert Spano and has worked with the GRAMMY-winning composer Jennifer Higdon, among many others.

Early on, Martone set her sights on winning a GRAMMY before she turned 50. "My husband has 13 GRAMMYs, and he started winning them when he was 30," she says. "So, I had a long way to go to 'catch up'.  In 2006, I won Classical Producer of the Year, which is the most coveted award in my field. I also have a Latin GRAMMY, and I won a jazz GRAMMY for McCoy Tyner's Illuminations. Especially as women, we denigrate ourselves thinking that if we hide a little bit, people won't take shots at us. But I decided I wasn't going to do that back then, that I was going to play full out, and that I was going to win. Five GRAMMYs later, it's a big honor and a privilege."

Martone's ability to build relationships has been particularly key to connecting through the pandemic. "The sense of community that I've felt through the GRAMMY organization and MusiCares has been incredible and has helped out a few friends that were really in need," Martone says.

Connection-building was necessary for her production career as well. Having produced the Cleveland Orchestra in the past, the organization reached out to Martone directly to produce their virtual season. "They're arguably the greatest orchestra in the world, and they're right here," she says. "They had the bonus of my 41 years of experience.  I've needed to use all of that. I have been so proud of all of us in this creative community because we kept hope and inspiration alive."

Taking that inspiration, Martone approached the Orchestra's virtual season seeing opportunities to create a new experience rather than seeing limitations. "Cleveland Clinic was advising the Orchestra, and that included not using winds or brass," she says. "So we started with 42 string musicians distanced nine feet apart. That's no way to make a very good ensemble, but the thing that's beautiful about the Cleveland Orchestra is their sense of blend and ensemble and being able to respond very nimbly. Producing what amounted to two records a week in this virtual season has been a production schedule on steroids."

Another of Martone's pandemic highlights has been producing new records from the GRAMMY-winning percussion ensemble Third Coast Percussion and Atlanta Symphony Orchestra harpist Elisabeth Remy Johnson. "Elisabeth messaged me and said she was interested in a record with all women composers, composers who were neglected like Amy Beach and Fanny Mendelssohn," Martone explains. "We worked remotely during the Pandemic. The Oregon Music Festival is also considering a recording at Abbey Road in November, also with all women composers and has asked me to produce. I feel inspired and energized by these projects."

Whether in her earliest recording sessions or the heart of the pandemic, the factor uniting Martone's experiences has always been her love of the creative process—and of being in the same space as people reaching their peak. "When I'm producing, I can't be thinking of anything else at the moment," she says. "I'm in the state of flow, almost an active meditative state. That's helped me work on over 200 records. Making a difference for others and having fun makes for a life well-lived."

For the past 60 years, the Recording Academy's Chicago Chapter has recognized and celebrated the creative accomplishments of our members across the Midwest, fought for their collective rights, and supported them in times of need. We are proud of our legacies and excited to continue looking ahead. Here's to the next 60.

How Female Classical Composers Are Encouraging Gender Equality

Nancy Wilson

Nancy Wilson

Photo: Jeremy Danger

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Nancy Wilson On Her New Album, 'You & Me,' Missing The "Angels" Of Rock & The Future Of Heart

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Nancy Wilson's upcoming album 'You & Me' is partly a reflection on her personal relationships—both with the living and those who have passed. Its single "The Inbetween," premiering exclusively via GRAMMY.com, is all about the liminal spaces of existence
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
Apr 28, 2021 - 7:20 am

Nancy Wilson was thumbing through some notes when she found a poem written by her son, Curtis. Perceptive and probing, it seemed to sum up our politically malignant era—and what was spiritually absent at the core of it.

"[He] wrote this poem for a class assignment," the Heart co-founder tells GRAMMY.com over the phone from her Sonoma County home. "I thought it was really clever. The words were so clever and so whimsical. He was like, 'Black and white, wrong and right.'" Feeling the words reflected tribalism and partisanship, Wilson flipped those dualities into a song, "The Inbetween." But instead of being portentous or doomy, the track is radiant and rocking.

"Putting it in a context of something more fun—a funny take on it all—takes it away from being so heavy and dark," Wilson adds. "It kind of sheds new light on a situation. It's a contrast from the heavy times we've had to live through and puts it in a different tonality."

"The Inbetween," which exclusively premieres above via GRAMMY.com, is the latest single from Wilson's upcoming album, You & Me, which drops May 7 via Carry On Music. Really, Wilson is preoccupied with in-betweens throughout the album—the spaces between life and death, dreams and memories, good relationships and poisonous ones. It's also her first solo album ever, despite making music with her sister, Ann Wilson, in Heart for nearly a half-century.

The sisters have had an up-and-down relationship over the last few years, and the pandemic gave Wilson space to define herself both within and without "the vortex that’s Heart." And while the door is open for the band to go out again in 2022, Wilson is cherishing the time to reflect and recalibrate—and You & Me is the heartfelt product of this period of self-examination.

GRAMMY.com gave Nancy Wilson a ring to discuss You & Me track by track, why it took her five decades to make a solo album and the future of Heart.

This conversation has been lightly edited for clarity.

Over the decades, what was the biggest obstacle to putting out a solo album, whether internal or external?

Well, I think I would call it the vortex that's Heart. There's a vortex of the work ethic of Heart for the last almost 50 years, just to be honest. I hate to even date it. But it's been a mind-bending job to do every year for the touring of it and the album after album—mainly, the touring of it all. You know, everywhere with electricity, we've played there.

It's an interesting dichotomy with the pandemic stopping the hurtling, you know. Heart's been hurtling through space for nearly 50 years. It's an interesting contrast to that to have to be shut in and be at home and stop the momentum and reconvene with your personal soul and self, in order to be able to know what to do musically and creatively with that time I had in my hands like everybody has had.

It's really a blessing, you know? It's been a blessing outside of the larger curse of it all to be able to reconvene with your communication with your own self.

Who were you thinking of when you came up with the album title—and first track—You & Me?

That's dedicated to my mom, who left us quite a while ago now. She's still in my skin, in my DNA. So it's kind of a gravity-free zone where I can talk to her in that song. I think the word "gravity," in and of itself, kind of keeps the song from walking that too-precious kind of a line. [laughs]

I think the personal, confessional kind of thing about this album—it's almost too sweet. It walks a line that's almost too sweet, but I think in another way, you could say that it's more of a revolutionary act to be that open and that honest. Walking the line of sweetness can be more of a rock attitude than hiding out behind your feelings. I'm sort of burying a lot of my feelings in this album.

And, you know, tongue-in-cheek stuff too, but the honesty of it is kind of a rebellious act on a certain level.

It seems like you're preoccupied with that line where sweetness could tip over into treacle. You're consciously trying to stay on the right side of that.

Yeah, exactly. It's almost, like, not supposed to happen. You're not supposed to do that. It's against the rules to be that honest, to bare your soul like that. I guess if that's an issue, then I don't know what is. [chuckles]

Tell me about your relationship with your mom.

She was a steel magnolia. I got a lot of her strength along the way. A military family, right? Marine corps, all those travels we had growing up were a strengthening kind of thing. We became really tight-knit as a family because we were always moving. Early touring experience, actually! [laughs]

She was the mom and my dad because our dad was off fighting wars. It's a total tribute to that strength of her character and her nurturing, strong, amazing … She was an amazing woman. When I sometimes dream of her, I feel like I got to see her again and I get to talk to her again. It's a zero-gravity space, and that's what the song is all about.

Can you describe the last dream where she showed up?

Yeah, sure. She took a lot of Super 8 home movies, and that's incorporated into the video [for "You & Me"] quite a bit. I took a lot of them too. She taught how to edit film and stuff, with the little editing machine. We used to make films in our family.

So, I used a lot of that footage in the actual video for the song and she appears in the video for the song. When I dreamt of her last, it was just her wonderful face. Her spirit. I felt like I had a conversation with her and the words were not even clear. It was just being together and the aspect of her spirit being there.

My collaborator, Sue Ennis, who's worked with us for years and years for Heart songs, had a song for her mom called "Follow Me." And I'd written a song for my mom called "You and Me and Gravity." I loved this music that Sue had. We both kind of have a mom thing. We've talked about our parents and we grew up together, so we had all those connective tissue things in our hearts about our moms.

So, we kind of collaborated on the ultimate mom song to try to reach into the ether and touch base with that. We morphed two songs into one. It's a hybrid mom song [laughs].

Tell me about "The Rising."

Well, luckily enough, a few years ago, we got to go to New York, when we used to be able to go anywhere, and we got to see "Springsteen on Broadway" live.

When I saw that show, it completely blew my mind. It changed my world around because I've always loved Springsteen and his amazing writing. Growing up with Springsteen on the radio, for instance, he'd be sort of behind this big wall of sound with this rock and roll accent where you could hardly understand the lyrics. 

Then, seeing him live, completely by himself, stripped-down, those songs and those lyrics—it completely altered my perception of Bruce Springsteen. He's an insanely great writer. Those words are so depth-y. Later, after having seen that, I watched it a million times on the show you can watch on television. Then he did Western Stars, his other album that got me through the whole last Heart tour. It was life-saving stuff for me.

So then, when I started to do this album, I was like, "I should do this because of the pandemic. I should do 'The Rising' because it was written initially for 9/11." Now, we're having 9/11 every day, so that's why I thought it would be aspirational and helpful for people to have an inspired message like that to help them through this insane ordeal we're living through.

Do you know Bruce? Did you say hi to him after the show?

I didn't say hi that night, but I do know him. His people told our people that he really liked my version of 'The Rising'! That made my day—my whole year, actually—to know that he thought it was cool.

Tell me about "I'll Find You."

Sue had actually started that song with Ben Smith, the drummer. My Seattle folks. They had this song that is, like, a "friend who's going to be there for you" kind of song. The support system that you've always dreamed of having. That's what the song talks about.

I've always been that person where I'm there for my people, you know? I show up. It's a really simple way of saying that you're going to be there for somebody that needs you. And that's a big deal! I mean, that's a huge thing to be able to do for anyone.

Can you describe a recent situation in which you were able to be that for somebody?

[laughs] Well, if you live long enough, that happens frequently. If you are that person for your other people, it's not an easy role to play to show up for somebody that needs help. A lot of people don't have that skill, you know? A lot of people are not equipped with the emotional wherewithal to be there for anybody else but themselves. So, that's what that song is all about.

How about "Daughter"?

"Daughter" is a Pearl Jam song. I had actually recorded it earlier before I got into doing the album. I'd done that in Austin with an amazing producer, David Rice, for a film, actually, which was made in South Africa. It's a true story about human trafficking in South Africa.

This guy, Simon Swart, who made the film—it's about to come out, actually—he wanted to see if there was a song I could do for the film. And so I decided that "Daughter" would be a really cool idea, because there's a lyric in the song that says, "She holds the hand that holds her down." That was really telling about what it is to be a girl. The movie's called I Am All Girls and it's about to come out.

Anyway, that's the backstory on that thing. And for [Simon & Garfunkel's] "The Boxer," that's something I've been singing with Heart for the last tour. I've been singing that song all my life, basically. It's a really amazing song. Somebody told me that the chorus part—the "Lie-la-lie"—was initially a placeholder, but he kept it in the song like that because the verses are so wordy. It sort of opens up and he kept it that way from the initial demo of it.

I got Sammy Hagar to sing with me on that because he's a buddy. He's a rock god. He's funny as hell and he's a really good guy. I said, "Why don't you do something with me on my album here? I want to bring in some people that I love!" He said, "Yeah, OK! What have you got?" So, I said I've got this big rock song called "Get Ready to Rock," which is not on the album, actually. It's elsewhere now.

Anyway, long story short, he said, "Nah, that's too predictable. I don't want to be so predictable, to be the Red Rocker on a song about rock." So I said, "What about 'The Boxer'?" He said, "I love that song! I used to be a boxer!" So having him on that song was really special for me, because he brings such an attitude with him. There's only one of him in the world. That's him.

And then the Cranberries cover ["Dreams"]—me and Jeff, my hubby, were just driving around in Sonoma County. We heard it on the radio and he said, "You've got to get Liv Warfield to sing this with you!" She was my singer in my other band right before this, Roadcase Royale. I said, "OK! Let's just do that! I think that can be done easily enough!" And so we did that, and it turned out really fun and cool. Easy.

Nancy Wilson

Photo: Jeremy Danger

How about "Party at the Angel Ballroom"?

I kind of heard myself saying something one night. I was like, "Wow, we've lost another angel of rock and roll." One of the angels that passed away recently, like Chris Cornell, Tom Petty, and now, Eddie Van Halen. It's kind of like, "Well, they're going to be having some big party up there at the angel ballroom." And it's like, "Hey, that's a good idea for a song!"

So I got Taylor Hawkins, who's another amazing friend, and Duff McKagan. I went and sang some stuff for Taylor for his last album, called Get the Money. Really good album. I said, "Well, I'm going to make a solo album now, so do you have any cool jams laying around, dude?" He's like [affects masculine voice] "Yeah, rad, man! I've got some cool jams kicking around, dude!"

He sent me this jam that they had. It was a completely long-winded jam that needed a lot of structuring. I structured it very differently from the original. And I had these words, so I put it together and it just became a fun sort of lark of a song. It's kind of a dark topic, but [you can] make it kind of a funny moment.

Sort of like the song "The Inbetween." That started with a poem that one of my boys wrote. I have two twin boys that are both 21 now. One boy, Curtis, wrote this poem for a class assignment—a poetry-writing assignment, I guess. I thought it was really clever. The words were so clever and so whimsical. He was like, "Black and white, wrong and right." 

Now, after this horrendous political era we just tried to live through with all the bully-pulpit stuff we've had to deal with, I was scrolling through my notes and I found that again. I thought, "This is really relevant for our times that we're living through politically." But putting it in the context of something more fun—a funny take on it all—takes it away from being so heavy and dark.

It kind of sheds new light on a situation. It's a contrast from the heavy times we've had to live through and puts it in a different tonality.

Sounds like Curtis is pretty wise and perceptive. What do you learn from your boys?

You learn everything from your kids. Everything. Being a parent is not an easy thing to do. It's one of the bigger challenges you could ever face. Because when you love somebody that much and you're trying to help them survive through their own childhood. Because you care. Because you love somebody even more than your own life, your own self.

It's bigger than you are and you're responsible for it. The best thing you could ever possibly try to do is keep them alive long enough to figure it out for themselves.

How about "Walk Away"?

That's a story about a toxic relationship that you have to get out of. You have to face the truth of how you've enabled yourself to be hurt and you've enabled the relationship to go bad. It's kind of self-examination of "OK, I have to be brave enough to get this out of my life and take responsibility for what my part in it was." 

It's kind of complex, but it's definitely a truth that we've all had to face at some point in our own relationship lives. There are some unhealthy things sometimes that leave behind.

Were you thinking of any particular relationship or was it a composite of relationships throughout your life?

[Laughs] Well, I'm not going to admit exactly what that's all about. There's been more than one! So, it's a conglomerate of various situations I've found myself in that I had to get out of and get over.

Nancy Wilson

Photo: Jeremy Danger

How about "The Dragon"?

"The Dragon" is something I wrote back in the '90s. After the '80s, we went home to Seattle. That was a time when all the Seattle bands were exploding. I thought, "Oh, no! They're going to hate us because we're '80s dinosaurs!" But they were really sweet on us and we got pretty close with those guys.

At the time, our friends from Alice in Chains … Layne Staley was still walking around and talking. But he was definitely on a course that everyone could see. It was going to go badly. He was going to self-destruct. We all saw that coming. He was a sweet soul, you know? It was hard to see that inevitable demise. He was letting himself go down that dark ladder.

So, that's when I wrote that song. He was still alive, but everyone could see that. That's what that song was about. It's sort of a cautionary tale, but it's also a very heavy message because I don't think he had a chance against that dragon. It was just a sad story in advance of the sadder story.

That's been around for a long time. It never was destined to be a Heart song, although we tried to do that song a few times, in a few ways. It was on the Roadcase Royale album, which is called First Things First. That was a nice version of it. Somebody from the record company—my main guy, Tom Lipsky, from Carry On Music—said, "You've gotta do 'The Dragon' on your album!"

So, it was back by popular demand. I think this is the best version of that song yet. So far.

That's cool you knew Layne. I personally declare Dirt to be the most powerful album ever written about addiction.

Oh, for sure. Right? I love that band. I was so close with Jerry [Cantrell], Mike [Starr] and Sean [Kinney]—and William [DuVall], now. Mike Inez was actually in Heart for a while after Layne disappeared. He was our bass player for five years, I think. Michael Inez is one of the funniest humans on the planet, for Christ's sake. A seriously funny person. Maybe the funniest person I've ever met in my life.

How about "We Meet Again"?

That's kind of a take-off on Paul Simon. I cut my teeth on Paul Simon's stuff when I was nine, 10, 11 and 12. Early on in my playing life, as an acoustic guitar player. I'm actually glad I didn't get sued by Paul Simon because that basic guitar part in the song was a cue in Jerry Maguire, which was based on a Paul Simon-type fingerstyle part.

I kind of took that and ran with it and put lyrics to it, because I already had written it. I had already put that part together for the movie. If there's anyone to plagiarize besides Paul Simon, I suppose I could plagiarize myself [laughs]. That's the first thing I wrote for this album and I was just trying to touch base with my earlier self—my college-girl self with the poetry that I used to explore before I was in Heart.

Is Paul Simon the greatest living songwriter?

He's definitely in the top three, in my estimation. There's Joni Mitchell, there's Paul Simon, and of course, you have to include Bob Dylan in there. Maybe the Beatles. Those are the four pillars of greatness, I think, in music.

What about the last tune, "4 Edward"?

I wanted a tribute to Eddie [Van Halen]. When he passed away, I was really sad, of course. I was very moved to try to pay tribute to him in some way. 

When we used to be in the same place together in the '80s—we did some shows with those guys—he told me he thought I was a really great guitar player on the acoustic. I was like, "How can you say that? You're the best guitar player on the planet! Why don't you play more acoustic yourself?" He said, "Well, I don't really have an acoustic guitar." Then, I promptly gave him one: "OK, you have one now."

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, he called my hotel room and played me this amazing instrumental on the acoustic I gave him. It was just one of the most beautiful things I'd ever heard. Just an exciting, inspirational moment, although he'd probably been up all night partying. So I thought I would return the favor and make him a piece of instrumental music on the acoustic guitar.

That's what I did. I put a little piece of the song "Jump" in there. I tried to approximate what I vaguely remembered from what he played me that morning.

I know things have been kind of hot and cold with your main project over the last few years. How would you describe your personal and creative relationship with Ann today?

Well, that's a loaded question. I think we're fine. We both kind of welcomed the break from each other and from Heart in a certain way. 

I think there's a certain blessing inside the larger curse of the whole shutdown we've been living through. Personally, I feel like it's been a relief and a chance to reorganize who I am, thinking of who I am inside the larger picture of Heart and who I am outside of Heart altogether. 

There's a lesson in this shutdown for me, and part of it is to remember who I am without defining myself as somebody in Heart. Which is a beautiful reckoning, I think. 

There's an offer for Heart to go out in 2022. I think that would be awesome to do that. I would want to do that. But having been outside of the world of it and the pressure of it and the framework of it for this long now has been very freeing. I feel I've gained a lot of momentum as a person because of it.

Peter Frampton On Whether He'll Perform Live Again, Hanging With George Harrison & David Bowie And New Album 'Frampton Forgets the Words'

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Donnie Simpson

Donnie Simpson

Photo: Aaron Davidson/Getty Images

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Radio And TV Legend Donnie Simpson On The Key To His Decades-Long Career: "I Don't Have To Be Great––I Just Have To Be Me"

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In honor of his recent induction into the Radio Hall Of Fame, GRAMMY.com highlights the broadcasting icon's celebrated career, his impact on media and culture, and his ongoing advocacy for Black representation in radio and TV
Eliza Berkon
GRAMMYs
Jan 6, 2021 - 3:43 pm

About five years ago, Washington, D.C., DJ Donnie Simpson emerged from retirement after a little coaxing from his wife, Pam.

"She framed it really [nicely]. She said, 'Donnie, everywhere you go, all you hear is how much people love you and they wish you'd do something else. And God has given you a gift that you should be sharing with people,'" Simpson tells GRAMMY.com over a Zoom interview. "That's what she said, but what I heard was, 'Get out.'"

The affable radio and television icon ultimately returned to the airwaves in 2015. Five years later, he received one of the highest accolades in the radio industry: Last October, he was inducted into the Radio Hall Of Fame, an honor recognizing his contributions to the radio medium over the last half-century. 

The honor is the culmination of the legend's celebrated, decades-long career in radio, which launched in the '70s when a teenaged Simpson got his start on the Detroit airwaves. At the time, he looked to a handful of local DJs as mentors, including the high-spirited Ernie Durham. 

"I did not adopt his on-air style, but I try very much to adopt his off-air style. He always carried it with class," Simpson said of Durham. "And that was the example to me: to always be kind to people, to look people in the eye, no matter who they were."

It wasn't until Simpson left Detroit, in 1977, and logged his first few years at WKYS 93.9 in D.C.––a station he would reformat and lead to No. 1 as program director––that he found his stride on air, he says. 

"It's something I always say, and it's so true: I don't have to be great––I just have to be me," Simpson says. "Being you always works because that's the spirit that connects us. That's the thing that makes you real to people; they feel you when you are you. When you're trying to be something else, they know that, too."

Simpson says he's long avoided listening to recordings of himself for fear that the inevitable analysis would disrupt the "magic" of what he'd helped create. That approach also extended to his TV career, which started—not counting a role he now laughs about on a short-lived dance show in Detroit—when he served as backup sports anchor for WRC-TV in the early '80s. Not long after, he began hosting a relatively new show on the then-burgeoning BET network. Simpson had concerns about whether the show was the right fit for him.

"BET, in its infancy, wasn't a very pretty baby. The quality wasn't there. I've always been protective of image, because that's all I have," Simpson says. "But after thinking about it for two days, I decided this: This is our first Black television network. If you have something to offer it, you have to do it."

The two-hour show, "Video Soul," which spotlighted Black artists at a time when MTV was almost exclusively focused on white musicians, became BET's highest-rated program at one point.

Jeriel Johnson, executive director of the Recording Academy's Washington, D.C., chapter, remembers watching "Video Soul" as a teen in his Cincinnati home. Simpson, he says, was a "steady presence of Black excellence."

"He was the face of BET," Johnson says. "He was just a staple, and he had such a calming voice and he was super smooth. I just looked up to him as a young, Black kid who loved music ... And I remember seeing him and being like, 'Wow, I could be on TV, too. If he can, I can.'"

On the program, Simpson interviewed artists who were already riding the waves of success or were well on their way: Jodeci, SWV, New Edition, En Vogue, Mariah Carey, Take 6, Whitney Houston. Regardless of the star who graced the couch each night, Simpson took the same approach.

"For every guest I ever had on 'Video Soul,' they would bring me a bio with all this information on the artist … I wouldn't even read it," Simpson remembers. "That's the point of the interview, for me to get to know you."

Elise Perry, a producer and the president of the Recording Academy's Washington, D.C., chapter, worked behind the scenes on "Video Soul" in the '90s, a pivotal decade for both R&B and hip-hop, she notes.

"All of these different subgenres of R&B really started to have an uptick in the '90s, and the fact that BET was present visually at that time, representing Black music in that way—it was a very special time," Perry says. "There were a lot of Black folk there, and it was just like a party. It was where I got my 'master's degree,' I call it. Everybody was family … It was just like a mecca."

Read: Meet The Recording Academy D.C. Chapter's First Black Female President, Elise Perry

Simpson treated the crew like family and has continued to provide unparalleled support for the D.C. community over the years, Perry, a D.C. native, says.

"He's our family. He's our brother. He's our uncle. He's that dude next door. He's our neighbor. He's our friend," she says.

"Family" is also how GRAMMY-nominated producer Chucky Thompson describes Simpson, who had a big impact on him when he was growing up in D.C.

"I've learned so much about people from him, just the way that he's been excited about their careers," he says of Simpson. "It transcends to you. It's like, 'Wait a minute, Donnie's excited? Now I'm excited.'"

For Thompson, who helped craft hits for Faith Evans, Notorious B.I.G. and Mary J. Blige in the '90s, "Video Soul" was formative.

"It was almost like another version of what 'Soul Train' meant," Thompson says. "But [Simpson] got even more personal with you because he was able to talk to the artists and give you a little bit of insight on what their journeys were … He gave me a lot of information on how to make it in this business."

"Donnie Simpson is the standard," Joe Clair, comedian, radio personality, on-air veteran and host of "The Joe Clair Morning Show" on WPGC 95.5 FM in Washington, D.C., adds. "My mom and dad loved him, my siblings love him and people from a generation after me love him. That is a testament to who he is as a broadcaster and what he means to us as a voice for our community. I've worked with him throughout  the years, and he's given me valuable advice both for career moves and for negotiating my worth. He is a shining example for a life in radio and television on your own terms."

Yet becoming successful in the business, including achieving financial success, wasn't an easy journey for Simpson. The DJ has been vocal about the need for equitable pay for Black DJs. In recalling his own path to multimillion-dollar contracts, Simpson turns to a lyric from Elton John's "I've Seen That Movie Too": "It's a habit I have / I don't get pushed around."

"I've walked out [on deals], because you're not going to get me for half [the] price because I'm Black; those days are over," Simpson says, adding that in Detroit, he made one-fifth of what white DJs were making. "That was a very significant part of my career, to be able to be a part of changing that narrative, to letting them know you have to pay Black talent."

Simpson has also advocated for stations to put more of the DJ back into DJing. In the past few decades, he notes, many DJs have watched their curated playlists and airtime drift away due to technological advances and the consolidation of station ownership.

"So much of its personality has been stripped from it," Simpson says of the art of DJing. "I play whatever I want to play every day, but that's the magic of it to me … I don't want a computer programming music for me, because every day feels different. And I like to be tapped into that feeling."

In 1974, Simpson played Elton John's "Bennie And The Jets" on his show in Detroit, a decision he says he fretted about because "Black folks didn't know Elton John." He played the song twice that evening and got an overwhelming response from callers. John himself was soon on the phone with Simpson to discuss the record's success in Detroit; he handed Simpson a gold record for the single six months later.

"It's music that you wouldn't traditionally associate with Black radio; it's Elton. But that was a lesson to me," Simpson says. "It's all music to me; I don't care who made it. I just care what it sounds like [and] if it fits what I'm doing."

The fact that most DJs no longer have the latitude to craft their own playlists is a big loss for radio, Simpson says.

"You have young people out here with great ears that will never get the chance to express themselves musically because it's all programmed for them," he says. "I used to love it when wheels would touch down in Atlanta or New Orleans [or] L.A.—wherever it was. I couldn't wait to pull out my little transistor radio and hear what they were doing in that city, because it was always different."

After Simpson learned he'd be inducted into the Radio Hall Of Fame this year, he took a look at its roster of honorees over the past three decades. When he didn't see New York DJ and “Chief Rocker" Frankie Crocker and other Black radio icons on the list, the announcement gave him pause.

"These are voices that you should know about, some great talents through the years ... legends that have gone largely ignored," he says. "But I also, in my acceptance speech, acknowledged that the [Radio Hall Of Fame] is trying to correct that. You look at the list of inductees this year, with Angie Martinez, The Breakfast Club, Sway Calloway and me––man, it's like #OscarsTooBlack. It's a lot of people of color that went in this year. So they have recognized that, and I applaud them for that."

At a time when systemic racism and police brutality against Black people have come to the forefront of the national dialogue, Simpson says he feels compelled to speak out.

"If I were not on the radio, if I didn't have a microphone, I think I would still feel that responsibility to whatever people I encounter that I could talk to, to tell them how important this moment in history is for us," Simpson says. "I am so honored that I have had a platform for, now, 51 years to allow these voices to come on the radio or on TV and talk about these matters that make a difference to our community."

In 2010, Simpson retired from WPGC, where he'd hosted a morning show for nearly two decades, after contending with a "toxic" environment. But five years later, he was back at the other end of the dial on D.C.'s WMMJ Majic 102.3. Now, another retirement seems like the furthest thing from his mind.

"What's there not to love about it? I sit there kicking it with people I love. We have all the fun we can stand," Simpson says.

As praise continues to roll in from industry A-listers for his Radio Hall Of Fame induction, Simpson has advice for the many artists and listeners who now look to him for guidance as he once looked to his own mentors: "Be kind."

Each morning, Simpson takes a walk or run beside the Potomac River. While he says there's a health benefit to the ritual, he's got an additional reason to step out of his door.

"What I'm really doing is collecting smiles," Simpson says. "That's kind of my purpose: to bring warmth and joy."

Tune in for a special Up Close & Personal conversation discussing Donnie Simpson's career and life in broadcasting. Moderated by Jimmy Jam, the event premieres Tuesday, Feb. 9, at 4:30 p.m. PST/7:30 p.m. EST via the Recording Academy's official Facebook page.

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Johnny Flynn as David Bowie in Gabriel Range's 'STARDUST'

Johnny Flynn as David Bowie in Gabriel Range's STARDUST

Photo Courtesy of IFC Films. An IFC Films Release.

 
News

Marc Maron And Johnny Flynn On Why 'Stardust' Is A Cinematic Space Oddity, Not A David Bowie Biopic

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One of the most interesting music films of the year, 'Stardust' has zero aspirations to embody the big Bowie biopic daydream, instead offering an intriguing, arty interpretation of an era that ultimately helped shape the sound and style of Ziggy Stardust
Lina Lecaro
GRAMMYs
Dec 30, 2020 - 3:49 pm

The hunger for a David Bowie biopic has intensified in the four years since the icon's death and in the wake of the breakout box office success of music films like Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman. But despite its perfect title and marketing that might suggest otherwise, Stardust had zero aspirations to embody the big Bowie biopic daydream. 

Released last month (Nov. 25) on multiple streaming platforms, Stardust is an intriguing, somewhat arty interpretation encompassing a short but influential window of time before Bowie broke big. The film follows a young Bowie, played by British musician/actor Johnny Flynn, in his pre-Ziggy, boho-rock days. Aided by Ron Oberman, played by comic and podcast king Marc Maron, the record company PR guy tasked with promoting the singer in the U.S. at the start of his career, Bowie takes an ill-fated press trip to America in 1971 that ultimately helps shape the sound and style of one of music's most revered figures: Ziggy Stardust.

Despite a disclaimer that states "what follows is (mostly) fiction" at the start of Stardust, the film's basic premise is based on true facts. Bowie did have to stay with the real Oberman and his family in Maryland before embarking on a bare-bones road trip to promote his music, and due to visa problems, the singer was not able to play any substantial venues or even play his own music during the tour. He was clearly struggling with some identity issues as an artist before he evolved into the Starman, and as depicted in the film, his relationship with his overbearing wife, Angie (Jena Malone), became more and more strained as he grew as an artist, fleshing out his flamboyant, cosmic persona and music.  

While Stardust is indeed a music film, the music logistics for the movie were no easy road. Last February, Bowie's son, Duncan Jones, announced on Twitter that he and his family would not authorize the use of his dad's music for the film. Consequently, fans quickly denounced the project. But the film's writer/director, Gabriel Range, had very specific intentions, and music wasn't necessarily essential to explore them. 

"He didn't want to give us the music, but that's great because it provided us more freedom," Maron said during a joint interview with Flynn before the release of Stardust. "We couldn't afford it anyway. The idea that we can't interpret this moment in David Bowie's life out of respect is ridiculous. David was a public figure who contributed so much to artistic innovation, to creativity in his work, and it's been out there in the world for 50 years. This idea that it's off-limits by any means to express interpretation of this man is ridiculous. They are protecting the brand more than they are protecting the person."

For his part, Flynn, who in the film sings covers Bowie often played live and does a glammy new song he wrote for Stardust called "Good Ol' Jane," didn't take the lead role lightly. 

"He's a big hero to me in lots of ways," he explained. "I passed on an earlier version of the script because I thought this is not a story that needs to be out there; it was more like the jukebox musicals that we've seen out there recently."

Flynn, an acclaimed musician in his own right and a promising actor, reconsidered when Range, working alongside writer Christopher Bell, came on board and took the film in a new direction. 

"He knew Bowie really well and he said, 'We just want to look at this tiny, tiny moment of his life," the actor explained. "I went to see the “David Bowie Is" exhibition in Brooklyn, and I was walking around the exhibit. It was so interesting. He was desperate to escape this sense of mediocrity and what he thought of as banality. [Range is] always looking for interesting truths about situations that change people's opinions of what a certain time might have been. We took things step by step, and it felt right at every step. This is such a small film and it doesn't negate or tread on the toes of a big, estate-backed film about Bowie. This can exist, too."

Indeed, it can. What's explored in Stardust would have probably taken about 10 minutes in a traditional biopic. Though its limited scope and intimate approach is far from the grandiose, glam-rock affair some might have hoped for, the film has many endearing moments music fans, if not the hardcore Bowie base awaiting a blockbuster life exploration, can enjoy. There's a nice chemistry between the two leads, for one, and in many ways, the film is a classic buddy flick/road trip, quasi-comedy featuring two opposites coming together and learning from each other. 

David Bowie's '…Ziggy Stardust…' | For The Record

Of course, the monumental undertaking of tackling a beloved and legendary figure like Bowie on film is a big risk for any actor or creative. The haters were not silent. 

Naysayers pointed to Flynn's lack of facial resemblance to Bowie, but the actor wasn't going for a gauche impersonation. 

"I tried on the wig, then we tried some songs and some scenes, just to see how we could get on with that. And each step that we took just felt like encouragement to move to the next," Flynn said of playing Bowie in the film. "I didn't know if the story we were trying to tell would work, but it felt right. And this era is the only David that I would have been happy with portraying."  

Read: "Space Oddity": 7 Facts About David Bowie's Cosmic Ballad | GRAMMY Hall Of Fame

Rock movies are often in danger of coming off as corny or cliche. Stardust, and the cast and creative team behind it, mostly avoided this by keeping the narrative ambitions specific and the acting fairly measured. 

As for the fan community and their critiques of the film, Maron is pragmatic. "I dealt with that with the Marvel idiots when I did Joker, too," he shared. "The nature of fanaticism and the idea of fans and that kind of religious dogma that goes around what they think is honoring their 'God' is really problematic in terms of moving art forward in a lot of ways."

Flynn, on the other hand, took the feedback as an indicator of Bowie's impact and lasting legacy.

"What made all the reactions interesting to me is the fact that [Bowie is] such an influence, and he's a different person to everybody," the actor added. "For Marc, it was the Scary Monsters era. For me, I discovered him during like "Space Oddity" and the early stuff, but mixed in with Ziggy and Hunky Dory, which is probably my favorite album. I think that makes it worthwhile to examine who this person was. It is fascinating, in terms of cancel culture and people saying, 'You can't touch that.' [But] I'm happy that there's a dialog around it and somebody who is such a beacon of liberal expression and artistic freedom."

David Bowie's '…Ziggy Stardust…' | For The Record

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