Harold Owens

Harold Owens

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Harold Owens Signs Off As Senior Director Of MusiCares: "As Long As The Music Industry Survives, We'll Be Here"

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The Recording Academy will miss MusiCares' senior director Harold Owens, who provided selfless service to the Academy for 22 years. Below, he opens up at length about the arc of his career and the challenges on the radar for music creators
Morgan Enos
MusiCares
Sep 17, 2021 - 12:18 pm

On what seemed like a usual Tuesday morning, the staff at the Recording Academy received some surprising, bittersweet news: Harold Owens, the senior director at MusiCares, would be moving on from the Academy after 22 years. 

"I have decided to retire… in part due to age and medical concerns," he announced in an email with the subject "Never Can Say Goodbye." "It has been an honor to serve the music community and the opportunity to address the issues that affect the health and well-being of both the individual and the industry as a whole."

As one of the most beloved members of the Recording Academy and MusiCares families, Owens has touched innumerable lives as a recovery specialist. He's known for drawing from his experience as a recovering addict—he's been clean and sober since bottoming out in 1988—to reach suffering folks in the music industry without a shred of condescension or moral superiority.

Read More: Getting To Know MusiCares' Harold Owens: "My Job Is To Inspire Artists To Get The Help They Need"

"I'm a recovering addict and alcoholic. I usually just tell them that in the beginning," he tells MusiCares. "I will preface it by saying 'Your folks are worried about ya. I've been there. Would you like to talk?' Sometimes, they immediately hear what I have to say and say 'OK, I'll go.' And sometimes it takes a little time. I leave the door open."

While Owens' colleagues are saddened his time with MusiCares is up, they're left with an ocean of memories of his special touch with clients, down-to-earth demeanor and selfless service to all music creators ready to reclaim their lives, relationships, careers and futures.

In his final interview as part of the Recording Academy, Owens opens up at length bout the arc of his life and recovery, how he feels to be closing this chapter and the challenges that MusiCares faces in the future—namely, reversing a particularly menacing epidemic that has already claimed Tom Petty, Prince and Power Trip's Riley Gale.

Harold Owens

Photo courtesy of Harold Owens.

This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

For people unaware of your legacy with MusiCares, can you encapsulate your duties as senior director over the last few decades?

My basic responsibilities, primarily right now, are mental health and substance abuse.

Our team gets all the calls that are related to mental health and addiction. My duties are to respond to intakes, to assess the need and level of care—particularly with psychiatric emergencies. Should we dial 911? Does this person need to be hospitalized? Is it a family member asking for help in handling a certain situation? So, those are kind of the severe psychiatric cases that we get where the acuity is very high. Although rare, they do come up and we have to be able to find the appropriate resources for that client.

For substance abuse, most of our clients are ready to go. They've hit that dead-end that a lot of addicts reach. They make a call and they say they're ready. They don't need any prompting. There are those calls we get from management about their artists. The fact that they have either been showing up late or have had some incidents with other bandmembers—bandmembers have spoken out about what to do, so we'll get a call from management. In that time, we'll figure out a strategy to address the problem.

Sometimes, managers want to stay out of it, and I sometimes encourage that because it's like their parents. They will object just because they're authority figures in their lives, so you have to go through that. I've got to make a call on that one. Sometimes, I prefer just asking.

What I generally do is I'll have management or family talk to the person and ask if it's OK if I call them. I'm a recovering addict and alcoholic. I usually just tell them that in the beginning. I will preface it by saying "Your folks are worried about ya. I've been there. Would you like to talk?" Sometimes, they immediately hear what I have to say and say "OK, I'll go." And sometimes it takes a little time. I leave the door open. That's a typical intervention that we do with substance abuse.

In the past, I've done everything from soup to nuts at MusiCares in terms of financial assistance. We've broken down the programs into certain modules of assistance. During emergencies like Hurricane Katrina, we would all pitch in to do everything, and now it's more separated.

This is a momentous day for you, and all of us. What's going through your mind?

I have stalled on this. I've tried not to even feel the feelings. Retirement is frightening in every sense of the word, and I don't take it lightly. It's one of those once-in-a-lifetime events. God, I just keep moving on. When I was writing that goodbye, I was starting to tear up. It's a very, very sad moment.

I think overall, my feeling is that I've been honest and ethical at MusiCares and the Academy. Not just me, but the whole team. I've learned so much about a lot of different things, in a lot of different areas. I've been privileged to work with some amazing talents. I've been privileged to work with folks who I helped back in the '90s. A&R execs from before I went to MusiCares. When I did, they got sober. Major CEOs and presidents of major labels. To watch people whose careers might have crashed and burned but took the steps that got them back into recovery has been indescribable.

I work with guys who play bars, clubs—small venues—up to stadium-level, legacy artists. I don't discriminate. When I get on the phone with someone, I try to give them my best encouragement and support. The best voice that I needed to hear when I was out there. I try to lend that voice to them no matter who they are.

And the fact that we have the resources—if they can't pay for treatment? Come on! It doesn't get much better than that. Especially during the pandemic, folks have no money. We then offer them care. The premier treatment facilities and mental health facilities around the country give them a discounted rate, or they don't have to pay a dime. I love that I can say that: "Listen, they're going to take care of this. If you can get there, we'll pay for your treatment."

When you survey the decades, there are so many souls in various states of need you've communed with and healed. Which people, or stories, immediately come to mind when you think about the arc of your career?

Well, I always use this one. I think they're OK with me using their name, but I'd rather hold back. A manager who is concurrently very involved with MusiCares came to me about one of their artists. It's a big band with a lot of members. She came to me about one of their artists, I made that call, I got through to this artist and we put him in treatment. He stayed in touch and did well.

There were other artists in this band, too, who equally could have gone into treatment at the time. They just weren't ready. So, we made the decision to hold back and see what happened with this one client. That following year, I got calls from two other people who were struggling and having a hard time. We got to put them in treatment. That's a success story because they're active, current—they just put a new record out.

One person's example to the rest is always the best way to talk about recovery, I think, instead of hitting them over the head. You become an example. People listen to that, and that's what happened to this band.

Given all you've absorbed about your clients' various psychologies, can you shed a little light on how the creative impulse blurs with a need for an altered state of consciousness?

Well, I think there's a convergence of things. You can't point to one thing that makes someone who may occasionally or moderately drink cross over into addiction or alcoholism. What happens, I think, to certain people—typically in creatives—is that when they ingest a substance, for a brief moment, they feel that spark of creativity. If they're songwriters, they'll maybe have that spark that gets them through and they can create.

But what happens with addiction is it gives you some things in the beginning, but once you cross that line, it's like a vice. It just takes all of it away past the point of normal behavior in the way they were before.

It's like borrowing money. You borrow some capital and the interest rate is 100 percent past a couple of months when you become physically addicted. The interest rates are very, very high for people.

Again, you can't point to one, certain thing. But certainly, when I ask every client "Is there a history of addiction in your family?" I'll tell you: 80 to 90 percent mention either a dad, mom, uncle, grandma, grandpa. That's part of our intake, so genetics, I believe, is the number one factor in that. But, again, you can't point to just genetics. It could be trauma. It could be pain.

Musicians come from all walks of life and have, to a degree, suffered. The creative outlet for artists is amazing. They draw from life experience. 

If you could have a conversation with yourself back in the '80s, in the throes of addiction, what would you say?

I would tell myself… Well, I've had this conversation. [Knowing chuckle.]

Let me tell you. On October 1, 1988, I was sitting in my car and the thought was "Harold, you have come to the end of the road." I was a failure in my career. I had no relationships. I had recently been fired from UCLA. My parents didn't know where I was. I didn't have a girlfriend or significant other. I was very hopeless. What I said was "You know what? It's really time to check out." There was a calmness over me. 

At the same time, I had the thought that "You know what? This disease wants me to have nobody in my life. To be alone. To be sitting in this car and be homeless. To not have a job. This disease wants me dead! The final end is this disease wants me dead! I got to that point, and that was the night. I could have committed suicide that night or gotten help. 

I got a little angry and, that night—I luckily had some insurance—I went back to my mother and father and made the call. Next thing I knew, I was getting help.

Can I ask what led to the firing from UCLA?

Yeah! I was totally stoned. I was working with students and coming to work [like that] and not showing up. It was purely about addiction. I was the manager of a bookstore in Westwood and then I got a really great job at UCLA. I'd only been there six months, really, but I was still using and trying to hide it. Eventually, I'd go on one of those binges and not show up and not do anything. 

I came to work one day totally intoxicated. They could smell alcohol. I had a call from HR and that was it. I was done. Two weeks later, I was sitting in my car with those thoughts I just told you about. Thoughts of suicide.

And you didn't have a place to stay at that time?

No, I was too ashamed to go back to my parents one more time to bail me out. I didn't have a relationship. Despite having many, I didn't.

Listen: I had great opportunities in my life to succeed. I went to a good school. But this thing, this addiction—it's very cunning. It gives you a little. I would get so far and try to maintain my use, go into programs and try to do a little better, but then always, I would sabotage it and start drinking again, start using pills.

I knew I'd be out of a job or relationship, and finally, when I was 36, this is what happened. I exhausted all thoughts. I didn't have any good answers or reasons to continue living the life I was living. I was in that pain.

It's interesting that it finally took after aborted efforts at recovery. That's what I hear from a lot of addicts: "You have to be done. It helps to be done."

Sometimes. I think there's a great acronym for alcoholism, and it's the "-ism" part. Incredibly Short Memory. The brain wants to forget about the times you hit bottom and blah, blah, blah. It wants to forget. After a period of sobriety, when you ingest something, the brain short-circuits. It tells you "You can do it again." It tells you "This time, you're going to be successful." It tells you "This time, you can be creative," or whatever.

That's the baffling feature of alcoholism: It's a mental health issue. You may be the greatest scientist in the world and have all the answers and brilliance in your chosen field, but when it comes to your drinking or using? I've worked with these people. I've worked with some of the most creative people you can think of. But when it comes to alcoholism, that's a different story, you know? It's a different story.

You can't think your way out of it.

No, you can't. You have to act your way out of it.

Let me tell you something, Morgan, and you can hear me out on this: Right now, there is an epidemic of fentanyl in this community. I've heard of three people I knew who have died in the last three weeks. I was working with one client three weeks ago. He overdosed. He was pronounced dead for three minutes and they brought him back. It's out of this same little pocket in West L.A. that they're getting this fentanyl that's laced with who-knows-what. It's laced, sometimes, with meth. Sometimes, they call it coke. Blah, blah, blah.

Listen: You had Tom Petty. You had Prince. You had all these artists. Michael [K. Williams], the guy from "The Wire"? All those guys died of fentanyl. And I'll tell you something: I tried it once, years ago, when it wasn't even out and it was pharmaceutical. And I went out; I passed out. We're in the horrible grip of an epidemic, and it's fentanyl. They're just making it and shipping it out. I'm very fearful of what's going to happen in the next year.

Prince and Petty were middle-aged, but Riley Gale from Power Trip was only 34.

People think they're taking Vicodin because they're pushing it out! But listen: It's not!

I tell you: I'm scared for a lot of these people. The new folks who may have just gotten addicted and crossed that line. I'm very fearful of some of the deaths people are seeing. MusiCares came about because of Shannon Hoon's death. I worked with Shannon and he was a sweetheart, man. I had him in my care for about two months and he wasn't ready to go back out. Eventually, he did, and I got a call. I think it was in Mississippi that he had overdosed and died.

This was around the time I left that treatment center I used to work for to go to MusiCares. When he died, I think that was the spark that lit not only MusiCares but MAP, with [addiction recovery activist] Buddy Arnold. The Musician's Assistance Program.

I had no idea that MusiCares began in part because of Shannon. I'm a huge Blind Melon fan.

Oh, man! I light up when I think about our conversations. He was a sweetheart, man. He had a tattoo of his grandmother on his arm. He would tell me what she meant to him. This disease really takes the sweetest people and the most creative.

Read More: How Blind Melon Lost Their Minds & Made A Masterpiece: 'Soup' Turns 25

Who was the last person you helped under the MusiCares umbrella?

The last call I got—the last case I wrote up, the last case that I had to do an intervention that I had to do on one of a client's friends—was a guy who was ducking and dodging her. She really did try to help this guy. We spent two weeks wrangling him in, and finally, last Friday, he agreed to go to treatment.

This is a reggae artist, and he also suffers from, probably, bipolar disorder. He was in the pre-contemplation phase about going to treatment. Any time an addict is faced with going into treatment, sometimes, the fear of getting sober is greater than the hell they're living in because they're so wrapped up in the addiction that they think their life is over. If it's an artist, they think their career is over.

I said, "Listen, there's a couple of places I'd love to send you. One of them is Eric Clapton's place in Antigua, the Crossroads Centre." He said "Oh! My father's from Antigua!" And Antigua's a small, little island in the Caribbean. By talking to him, I got a little bit of information that I was able to capitalize on and get this guy to go because he was really headed for suicide as well, I think. According to the mom, he had some severe depression.

Anyway, I say that to say this: That was, ironically, the last case I wrote for MusiCares.

There are so many cool resources still in motion at MusiCares. What can you tell me about the Safe Harbor Rooms you guys produce at festivals?

They essentially started a couple of years before I got there. The first one was at the CMAs, then the next one was at the GRAMMYs. When I came on board, I kind of expanded it to a number of telecasts—the CMAs, the ACMs and the GRAMMYs in particular—and then to big music festivals and events. Coachella, Bonnaroo, a lot of different ones. We have about 10 of them up and running. There's one going on this weekend.

It's for people who are in recovery. At the CMAs, we have a room in the artists' dressing-room area. They always give us room to have meetings and talk. It's kind of like a safe room for people who are struggling or just to reconnect. We serve food. It's a hospitality area, essentially, for people in recovery. That has very much expanded over the years. It's for crew; it's for anybody associated with the show. We've had everybody up there, really. I post signs throughout the venue stating where the room is. We're usually given prime space in most of the venues.

We do Narcan training at festivals now in the artist compound. We provide custom-made hearing plugs for anybody in the backstage area. They're custom-molded and then they go to a lab and it comes back. If you do a drummer, it's a higher level than, say, a background vocalist. You choose the level that you want, since drummers are exposed to a higher dB level than, say, someone else in the band. We've been doing that for quite a while. They cost money, but it's free to the artists.

Beyond the goodbye email, what would you like to tell your friends and colleagues at MusiCares about how you feel to be closing this chapter in your career?

That's a hard question. I want to encourage them that we have moved from just being a grassroots organization to an organization. If I'm not wrong, I think we're working toward being an institution, meaning we'll be here. As long as the music industry survives, we'll be here. That's a really encouraging feeling, and I'm happy to have seen it in its infancy to where we are now. I'm very proud of that.

The talent that is here, again, is amazing. [Vice President, Health and Human Services] Debbie Carroll, [Executive Director] Laura [Segura] coming on board and changing things up and making it more relevant. And getting us the bandwidth that we'd never had before! She has really gotten us the bandwidth to create these different departments. We're a totally different organization!

That means we're able to withstand all the things that are happening. All the disaster relief initiatives that are coming at us twice a year. Earthquakes. Fires. Hurricanes. All that. Twice a year. Guaranteed. It wasn't like that [before]; it is now. The opioid epidemic is with us, full boat. Mental health, full boat.

The fact that the industry is not even back and running yet—we're in a crisis! All hands on deck! And I want to congratulate them. There's not much turnover at MusiCares. There really isn't. Most of my coworkers have been here for 10-plus years, and that says a lot about this organization. It takes care of its people.

Is the future of MusiCares bright, in your estimation?

Oh, yeah. Without a doubt. I think the best way to get the word out about MusiCares is on a personal level, so we wear that coat wherever we are, or at least I do—at festivals, letting people know on a personal level that we're there to help. And they can feel it. That we are on the level and we can help.

I think we're going to be fine. [Pauses to take it all in.] I think we're going to be fine.

How MusiCares Supports The Recovery Community Year-Round

GRAMMYs
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Seeking Clarity In Dependency's Mire: 5 Myths About Addiction & The Family To Debunk

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Many canards about addiction are out there—that the victim has to want help, that their family needs to take a backseat. Those aren't true, says Randal Lea, the Chief Community Recovery Officer at Cumberland Heights.
Randal Lea
MusiCares
Sep 30, 2021 - 2:15 pm

Despite the country making strides in reducing mental-health stigma, covering addiction treatment services, and increasing access to treatment, harmful myths still interfere with people getting help with their addictions and getting well. 

With that in mind, it's vital that those who care for—or about—a person suffering from addiction to know how to both help the addicted person and get help for themselves when they can.

Myth #1: The Victim Has To Want Help

The foremost major myth—one that has proved mightly pervasive—is that the addicted person has to want help and singlehandedly initiate the process of seeking treatment. 

Families may need to work with an interventionist or with a counselor of their own over a period of weeks or months in order to develop strategies to get help for the addicted person—and the entire family. 

A 2018 meta-study found that family involvement can actually increase access to treatment as well as improving individual coping and treatment outcomes.

Myth #2: The Family Is To Blame For The Addiction

The second harmful myth is that families should somehow be responsible for the behavior and recovery of their loved ones. 

Sometimes, the person with substance use disorder may verbally blame others for their use and its effects. Guilt—real or imagined—may lead to "enabling" behaviors, which can be classified as anything a family member does to soften the consequences of the behavior of a person with an addiction. 

In my college years, I totaled a Chevy Impala at 4 a.m. three blocks from my house. My father was able to get to the car before the police and act as though he had been driving to prevent a DUI. 

It was another five years before I found help for addiction when a legal consequence much earlier might have brought help to the family—for my parents as well as myself.  

Granted, associations exist between early childhood trauma and subsequent addiction—and trauma work is often a vital part of recovery. By the time someone's addiction shows up, that family is usually long in the rear-view mirror and the present family members were not part of that equation. 

Viewing addiction as the disease that it is takes blame and guilt out of the picture for both the family members and the person with an addiction. Al-Anon, the mutual help group for family members, has long stated the view that addiction is something family members did not cause, cannot control and cannot cure.

Myth #3: Addiction Is Solely The Addict's Problem 

Some families would be content to drop their loved one off at a treatment center and come back a month later to pick up the new and renewed person. 

This means a missed opportunity for family members to begin their own healing and to rebuild a new relationship with their loved one from a point of health. Also, family participation improves treatment outcomes—often drastically. 

Further, living with an addicted person forces one question to their own sanity, deny their own needs and experiences and live in a constant state of vigilance, mistrust and suspicion. 

Some family members report when their spouse or child came to treatment, they had their first sound sleep in months or years just knowing that their loved one was safe. 

The feeling of responsibility for the life of another—the constant uncertainty, not to mention the feelings of frustration over ruined finances and broken promises—affects relationships on many levels. 

Any discussion may lead to escalation or disaster, so family members learn to curb communication.

Myth #4: The Family Only Needs To Participate During The Course Of Treatment

This short-changes the family member on their own health trajectory. 

For many years, I knew a remarkable woman I will call Alice. Alice began AA and Al-Anon when her son was arrested and ultimately sent to prison for a drug offense. She made a bargain with God: "Keep my son safe and I will take a meeting into the women's prison." Five days after her son entered the penitentiary, he was murdered. 

At first, Alive felt betrayal and confusion. But she kept her part of the bargain, and for two years carried that meeting into a place where women desperately needed recovery. She maintained both Al-Anon and AA meeting attendance throughout the rest of her life. 

While never filling the void left by her son's death, Alice's participation in the community and self-help groups became the cornerstone of growth and peace that allowed her to work through her grief and live a life of purpose and meaning. 

Countless other stories from our adult and adolescent programs revolve around successful family recovery where the entire family goes forth in life and healing.

Myth #5: Treatment Is Permanently Transformational

It happens in many cases, certainly, that treatment is the dividing line between a life of risk and emptiness and a generative, fully engaged existence thereafter. 

But that isn't the norm. More often healing happens in stages, over time and in community with others. "Others" includes family, peer support, professional counseling at each stage of recovery and continued stability at home and in health.

The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) identifies the pillars of Health, Home, Purpose, and Community in a person's ongoing need for recovery support. Families derive the same benefit in using the pillars of support, regardless of the treatment outcomes for their loved ones. 

Recognizing that healing takes time allows people to utilize professional supports in clinically directed recovery. 

And these need to work their power until folks suffering from addiction gain the experience and muscle memory to practice self-directed recovery within their communities, faiths and families. 

Harold Owens Signs Off As Senior Director Of MusiCares: "As Long As The Music Industry Survives, We'll Be Here"

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How MusiCares Supports The Recovery Community Year-Round

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Learn about all the ways MusiCares provides support for those in recovery 365 days a year
Hannah Kulis
MusiCares
Sep 7, 2021 - 11:14 am

This September, MusiCares is recognizing National Recovery Month by supporting those in recovery through a series of programs about addiction, sobriety, and treatment practices and providers. Supporting the recovery community is an essential component of MusiCares' mission.

While the addiction crisis in America impacts all of us, the music community is particularly vulnerable to addiction issues. A 2018 survey found that musicians were twice as likely to drink alcohol four or more times a week—coming in at a rate of 31 percent—compared to the general U.S. population's 16 percent. The survey also found musicians were five times more likely to have used cocaine in the last month, and almost three times more likely to have used opiates.

Although MusiCares is highlighting recovery work this September, the Mental Health and Addiction Recovery Team at MusiCares works hard every day to help those struggling with addiction. Here's how MusiCares supports the recovery community, year-round.

Monetary Support for Addiction Treatment

Rehab is expensive. While the cost of inpatient treatment programs varies, it typically ranges between $14,000 and $27,000 for a 30-day program. Through MusiCares' financial assistance program, music community members can receive grants to attend 30-day inpatient treatment programs, which allow them to go to rehab at no cost to themselves.

MusiCares can also provide referrals to treatment programs in our provider network that have been vetted by licensed substance abuse and mental health counselors. In addition to inpatient treatment programs, MusiCares also provides financial grants and referrals to outpatient treatment, sober living, coaching, counseling, and psychiatric care. To learn more or apply for assistance, visit musicares.org/

Free Cyber Recovery Groups

Every week, MusiCares hosts seven virtual addiction recovery group meetings. A little deeper than a 12-step meeting, but not quite as intense as a process group, these groups offer a safe environment where participants can discuss the challenges of staying clean and sober in the music industry. Groups are free of charge and open to any music person interested in attending. To find out more, click here.

Safe Harbor Rooms

Working late nights at concerts, festivals and awards shows, music industry professionals are often surrounded by drugs and alcohol in their work environments. As a result, MusiCares established the Safe Harbor Room Program to provide a supportive place at live music events around the country, where artists and crew members with addiction issues can find communal support.

Staffed by qualified chemical dependency and intervention specialists, the Safe Harbor Room offers a network to those in recovery while they are participating in music festivals, concerts, the production of televised music shows, and other major music events. Click here to find out where our Safe Harbor Rooms will be.

NARCAN Trainings

NARCAN (Naxolene) is a nasal spray used for the emergency treatment of opioid overdose that works by reversing the effects of opioids in the brain. When used correctly, 93.5 percent of people survive their overdose, according to a review of emergency medical services in Massachusetts. MusiCares has partnered with NARCAN providers to host training workshops across the country and provide workshop participants with their own NARCAN should they ever need to use it.

Virtual Programming

In one survey of U.K. musicians, 45 percent reported problems with alcohol (Forsyth, Lennox & Emslie 2016). Dialogue around addiction and mental health is a crucial part of the recovery process, which is why the Mental Health and Addiction Recovery Team hosts panels, workshops, and other programs year-round to address these topics.

MusiCares has hosted educational workshops about suicide, panel discussions about staying sober while on tour, addiction, and the aging community, and more. To attend a MusiCares program, click here.

MusiCares' Health & Human Services Team's Holistic Approach To Wellness

Donovan

Donovan

Photo: Jaume Caldentey (Supplied By Donovan Discs)

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Donovan On His New Single "I Am The Shaman," His Upcoming Animated Series & The Role Of The Shaman In Everyday Life

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From his upcoming green-themed animated series with his wife, Linda Lawrence, to his transportive David Lynch-assisted single, "I Am the Shaman," the psychedelic-folk journeyman Donovan remains a potent creative force in 2021
Morgan Enos
GRAMMYs
Jun 1, 2021 - 11:58 am

Fifty-five years after Clive Davis signed Donovan, the trailblazing A&R man and singer/songwriter sat down for an interview and performance at Davis' 2021 GRAMMYs celebration on May 15. For reasons one can probably guess, they weren't in the same room. 

"The main problem was, what guitar should I use?" Donovan recalls thinking before his performance. "It's very bad sound through these Zoom microphones." After the 1960s star grabbed a classical guitar and beamed in his performance, the pair got to chatting about their epic history together, which predates the Summer of Love. 

"Clive and I opened a new way ahead for music in 1966—he in a new way as a record label leader, me in a new way forward for music," Donovan tells GRAMMY.com, referring to his pivotal, Davis-facilitated 1966 album Sunshine Superman. "The new way was established. The effect would begin to influence bands to come. My shamanic mission for that time [was] accomplished."

Donovan's new single, "I Am the Shaman," and upcoming children's series, "Tales of Aluna," for which he and his wife, Linda Lawrence, have completed 26 episodes, speak to his ability to transform the world heart by heart. (The single is available on limited physical formats on his website; the show’s release date remains TBD.) The former, produced and with visuals by David Lynch, casts a purple-clothed Donovan as the titular healer. The latter teaches youngsters to steward a battered Earth.

Over Zoom, with his long, gray locks tucked beneath a hood, Donovan comes across not only as an ageless wizard of yore but a happy, vital artist in the now. "I had to be reminded I made four albums in two-and-a-half years," he says with a laugh. Two of those were 2019’s Joolz Juke, a bluesy collaboration with his step-grandson (and Brian Jones’ grandson) Joolz Jones, and 2021’s Lunarian, a mystical tribute to Lawrence.

GRAMMY.com caught up with the psychedelic-folk troubadour about his recent rendezvous with Clive Davis, the wild renaissance of his 1966 song "Season of the Witch" and his memories of his wholehearted 1965 debut album, What's Bin Did and What's Bin Hid.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

What does the word "shaman" connote to you, and what role does the spiritual realm hold in your daily life?

People who go online think of a shaman up in the freezing north of the world, dressed in ceremonial costumes. A very important role to play in the tribe. I've always known that there are shamans in all countries. My shaman's role is always, I've realized, to assure us that we're heroes of our own adventure. You see, the shaman has got a song, usually. That song is very helpful to the tribe, and, in my case, to a huge audience in the world.

Because the song of the shaman allows us to rise above our fears and doubts. We identify with the story in the song. Because we're doing this for the GRAMMYs, which is about music and song, I want to explain to you that one can see clearly when a modern song appeals to millions. Even though the language of the lyric is English, the song is understood in every language.

We identify with the story and the characters. They overcome their trials. So we need these shamans—the male and the female—to be guides on the journey of life. When you look at the old idea of a shaman, that's exactly the role he plays. [For] anybody in difficulty—and it's usually a psychological difficulty—the shaman is there to move that person into their place of healing. You know, [like I say in] the line in my song, "I Am the Shaman": "She guides us on our way/When hearts, they go astray." 

This GRAMMY motto—MusiCares—expresses it quite clearly. The care, of course, can be physical. To help music-makers get the real healing is the invisible sound of music, which releases the obscure emotions of the heart. And that line in the song: "Who'll dry your pretty eyes?" I was committed to [being a shaman] very early. When a shaman is young, usually, that shaman gathers people around them; has some kind of skill, usually in music; and more often than not, has a childhood illness, which I had, which separates one from the others and makes you different.

Donovan

Donovan in 1966. Photo courtesy of the artist.

What was it like collaborating with David Lynch for the visuals?

Well, it wasn't a planned session. It was obvious that at one point, we would run into each other. Before David became a huge promoter of [Transcendental Meditation] and created the David Lynch Foundation to bring TM essentially to schools and young people—now, it's quite wide, the range—Linda and I, and the Beatles, of course, were into TM. It was obvious I would run into David at one point.

So, when we did finally meet, it was in his studio. There, I had my guitar, of course. We got on really well. In the studio, he became interested in my process. He said, "Sit in front of the microphone, Don, with your guitar." So I sat, and he'd already said, "Bring a song in that is just emerging. Absolutely not even begun to be a song." I did, and he said, "OK, can you just play and write a song, sitting there? Just there?" I said, "Sure I can."

I started "The Shaman," and he said, "That's great. OK, let's roll tape." I started doing the song in a very special way that I do sometimes. Extempo. I was making it up as I went along. I only had a couple of structures, and the structures came out just right. This is a way that a skilled songwriter like I can just be open to the possibility. Maybe like a skilled artist who lets the pen play on the paper and sees the images come forth. Then, in the next few days, David put on his magic—I didn't know he was a record producer, really—and we created "I Am the Shaman."

What can you tell me about "Tales of Aluna," the show you're working on with your wife?

If you can imagine a long incubation period of 50 years, Linda and I, having met in '65—she was my sunshine supergirl—we met again after the turbulent '60s was over. We met; we married. We lived in Windsor. At one point, we traveled to Ireland. I started getting out my writings and she was looking at them and we thought, "Let's move out of music. The '60s [are] over. Let's try and move into the world of audio/visual."

We spoke of how difficult it had been to do anything in the late '60s, early '70s, about ecology. Nobody really wanted to talk about it. The government certainly didn't know anything [about] what to do and never mentioned it. Anybody that mentioned it was considered back-to-nature, a hippie, a bohemian. But Linda and I were also surprised that none of my contemporaries were writing [any] green songs. I'd already started.

But when we looked at the green songs I had, it was important that the message can't just go to teenagers and adults, because they're quite conditioned as well. So what I thought would be better, and so did Linda: "Why don't we make a tale for the very young before the conditioning grabs them?" 

When we started to make "Aluna," it was very difficult. Animation was expensive and it was very hard to get into, but the story continued! We went to animation meetings and my publisher, peermusic, encouraged it all. And it went on and it was off and it was on and it was off. [laughs] And then, finally, out of Australia came this wonderful company called Three's a Company, and we created it.

Down there in Australia, 26 episodes have been produced. It's odd. Things have to come in their own time. But we never gave up the project. Now it's here, "Tales of Aluna." The girl [character] is very much based on Linda and her interests. There's a character that's based on me. But really, they're stories that I wrote 50 years ago, so it's taken a while.

How did the Clive Davis performance go? What's your history with Clive?

Of course, it was known by him and I that when he took over Columbia and created Epic, I was his first signing. But it didn't all become—what should we say—historic until later. He got so busy, I got so busy, and in 1966, he signed me, and the album was Sunshine Superman. 

What we see now is it was quite a new door that he'd opened. He would be creating a new kind of record company and development of talent, similar to what happened in earlier decades when artists were encouraged seriously to be found and promoted. At the time Clive was in the driving seat of Columbia, a lot of pop music had gone down already. But he was sort of a visionary. He wanted to develop and find new talent.

Now, looking back, I realize Sunshine Superman kind of opened a door one year before Sgt. Pepper—opened a door to a fusion. This door was wide open now. Clive developed that with me and he developed all of my albums in the '60s. Then, it came around that I ran into Richard Barone on the phone again. We've known each other for years. We talked about various things and he was working [with] the GRAMMYs. He said, "Why don't you and Clive get together and talk about those days?" He arranged the gala and I was very, very pleased. It was probably my first Zoom. When Clive and I got together, I found myself feeling rather touched. Him, too.

It was very moving [of Clive to] place me at the end of the gala, honoring me. And I honored him during the interview. It was quite historic, really. It was a piece of history that people don't point to very much, but the doors have to be opened wide by somebody.

I'd never thought of it that way, that Sunshine Superman paved the way for Pepper.

Well, most of the bands up until '66 were quite formatted. Four guys, same suits, of course, long hair. Blues had arrived and was tearing things apart a bit, but nobody was thinking to fuse all forms of classical, Indian, folk music, poetry, jazz, and rock—"Season of the Witch."

I didn't plan it. I didn't sit down and say, "I'm going to do this." It just happened, and my sense of avant-garde—if you look at what the avant-garde is described as on Wiki—it is pushing boundaries. At first, [it was] quite unacceptable. But of course, I had "Sunshine Superman." That was the song that [producer] Mickie [Most] knew would go whizzing up the charts, and it did. Opening doors with that album was a great pleasure to me.

You brought up "Season of the Witch." Any time I see anything mildly haunting on TV or film, that song almost invariably plays—yours or someone else's version. How does it feel to have that song permeate the public consciousness again?

It's crazy! It's not mellow. It's not "Superman." It's not "Jennifer [Juniper]." It's "Season of the Witch" that has risen. The plays on Spotify, for instance, are extraordinary. It is an angst-based song. And Donovan, the soft, gentle singer, why is he singing so dark? David Lynch and I would smile because he gets the same: "Here you are promoting peace with meditation and you have these dark forces in your movie!"

I said to him, "Yeah, so what did they say to Picasso when he painted Guernica? Did they say, 'Why are you painting terrible, visionary, dark forces, when really, you should be supporting peace and brotherhood?'" You have to show the dark because out of the darkness of this modern age, we must come out. That darkness has to be plumbed. It seems like I did it with "Season of the Witch."

Donovan & Gypsy Dave

Donovan with his friend David "Gypsy Dave" Mills  in 1966. Photo: Daily Mirror/Mirrorpix via Getty Images​

Your first album, What's Bin Did and What's Bin Hid, rang in its 55th anniversary last year. That album's really important to me. Any memories you can share of that one?

I'm interested. Without going into detail, how old were you when you first heard it, would you say?

I was probably 13 or 14.

I think what you were experiencing was what I was experiencing on the album. I was growing into myself and wondering where I was going. I'd already left home and hitchhiked with Gypsy Dave and been the Ramblin' Boy and all that. At your point in life, maybe that feeling was what you felt most.

In those days, in the recording world, I knew I was going to the folk world; I knew I was going out of the folk clubs and pubs. I wasn't headed for the folk labels. The mission with Gypsy and I was, "Why don't we make a real record for the real charts, and we'll be part of the flow of the invasion of popular culture by folk music, blues, poetry, and jazz?" But more folk, more poetry from my end, at first, and I wanted to make a record. What you're listening to on that album was a kid who'd just begun to record. That was me. Those recordings [that comprise] What's Bin Did and What's Bin Hid, I had the zeal and the power and the energy to want to sing of civil rights and protest songs. But at the same time, my guitar picking had developed very fast, and it was even before I went to Tin Pan Alley. I was a publishing signing first.

I made most of those in the basement at Denmark Street in London. Now, those albums are re-released on vinyl via BMG, which is great. There's two of them: What's Bin Did and What's Bin Hid and Fairytale. That's 1965. You are not alone. 1965 recordings of Donovan are now way in the forefront, leaving "Superman" behind in interest by the younger and even younger and your age, as well.

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Yoshiki

Yoshiki

Photo: Yoshiki Foundation America

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Yoshiki On Teaming With MusiCares To Address Mental Health & His New Disney+ Special

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"Suicide is not only one person's problem," X Japan drummer Yoshiki tells GRAMMY.com. "The people around the person have to live with that pain, and I'm one of them"
Bryan Reesman
MusiCares
Mar 29, 2021 - 7:30 am

Drummer, pianist and X Japan bandleader Yoshiki has lived a life that countless musicians dream of. His band has sold more than 30 million albums globally, toured across Asia and Europe, headlined Madison Square Garden, and sold out the massive Tokyo Dome a record 18 times. 

Still, he's aware of the plight of others far less fortunate than himself. Eleven years ago, Yoshiki founded the Yoshiki Foundation America for the purpose of aiding in various causes, and since the X Japan documentary We Are X came out in 2016, he has been open about his personal struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts after his father committed suicide when he was 10 years old. 

His latest endeavor with MusiCares is an annual $100,000 grant from his foundation to aid those in the music industry who are coping with or have been affected by depression and suicide. Funds will be used to help those coping with depression or suicidal thoughts as well as survivors of suicide loss.

Yoshiki spoke to GRAMMY.com about the grant and his recent Disney+ special, "Disney My Music Story." He also discussed his YouTube Originals concert and upcoming documentary "Under The Sky" featuring guest performances by St. Vincent, The Chainsmokers, Sarah Brightman, Scorpions and other artists.

For many years, you've been involved in philanthropic endeavors. When did you realize you could use your rock star status for good deeds, and what was the cause that compelled you to action?

There was the Kobe earthquake 25 years ago. It was a pretty big earthquake. Over 10 schools lost their buildings, so we [X Japan] donated pianos for their music classes. I think that was the first time we did something. Since then, if an earthquake or something happens, I donate here and there. Then, in 2010, I created my own foundation to keep supporting people [in various ways]. 

You've given money, but you've also given something of yourself. Ten years ago, you donated the crystal piano that you played at Tokyo Dome shows with X Japan for victims of tsunami and earthquake devastation. How hard was it to let go of something so personal?

Around that time, I tried to figure out: what's the best way to support people? With people like us, it's not just that you're donating something to someone. What we do can also spread, right? Artist A did this, Artist B did that. 

So because we are in the position that the media can talk about this, and also the way we do it, people can understand who needs some help. By donating such a memorable piano, people around the world can notice, "Those people need support." I thought that was a very effective way to support even more than what I could do.

Your current MusiCares partnership is a grant to raise awareness for mental health issues and suicide prevention. What inspired you to create this grant?

Since my father committed suicide, I became very suicidal. I was looking for the moment to die, but I couldn't kill myself. I was already playing piano when my father was playing piano. I was composing already. I just used this darkness and pain and converted it into art, so that's how I've been surviving. 

Then, my band member [Hide] also passed away. And another member, Taiji, committed suicide, and it really hit me again. Again, I became suicidal. I've always been suicidal. When I help people, somehow I'm also being helped at the same time. That's supporting me too. I have my own problems.

How does the grant work?

As of now, I donate a certain amount of money every year so that music industry people can have a counselor or a psychiatrist to support them – somebody who has suicidal thoughts or depression, or somebody who lost their family member or close one to this kind of problem. 

Because committing suicide is not only one person's problem. The people around the person have to live with that pain, and I'm one of them. The cause can support those people as well.

You've said it before: For the people who are left behind, what do they do?

Exactly. It's very different than if somebody… Death is death, after all. [People can] die from some kind of an accident or sickness. But committing suicide is their own choice. So if your friend or family member [did it]...why couldn't I stop that? 

In my father's case: Was I a bad son? I still think about it [after] all these years.

How hard has it been to discuss these issues in your own life? And then how else do you want to get the word out about dealing with them? Do you want to do public speaking?

Well, before the film We Are X, I did not talk about that much. It's not something cool to talk about, right? But after the film was out, a lot of people came to me and because of that, because of my story, I decided to live. I decided not to take my life. 

Like, wow, my story or the music or combination is supporting people. It's still painful to talk about it, but the story can support people and help people's lives... I don't know, I'm not good at making speeches in front of a lot of people. I'm good at rocking. [laughs] I would love to support more people's lives.

You said you've channeled some of your pain into your music. Do you channel that as much into your classical music as you do your rock music?

I think a combination of both. So yes, sometimes I keep playing the piano to contain my sadness, but also playing drums or even breaking drums to just contain my anger. Because of that environment, I was kind of saved, I guess. If you go out and start smashing things on stage, people like it, but you cannot do it in real life.

Read: Yoshiki Donates $100k To MusiCares COVID-19 Relief Fund "To Help My Colleagues Who Might Be Struggling"

You've teamed up with MusiCares a few times before. Why is this alliance so important to you, and why do you feel such a connection with this organization?

They support the music industry to which I belong. Sometimes, people may have a hard time understanding our situation. We are not special, we are the same as you, but the way we act and perform on stage, people may think we are something different. 

At the same time, our image is supposed to be bigger than life. We don't have to live that way, but we are also as vulnerable as anyone. In this gap, I sometimes get lost. It's so hard to just show a weaker side sometimes. All those MusiCares activities, [from] education to disaster relief to other things, I think they are doing amazing things.

Many musicians quietly deal with mental health issues. It's the same thing in Hollywood. There are a lot of actors who are dealing with them but don't tell others. People don't often like to show "weakness." How do you think MusiCares will be effective in working with this grant program to reach out to the music community about these issues?

Musicians [and] artists are supposed to help people through music or through art or film, but we also have problems. MusiCares supports the artists, the artists can support people, so it's a very important role MusiCares has especially right now. Our hope is towards the end of the tunnel, but we still haven't left the tunnel yet.

Yoshiki

Yoshiki presenting a check to MusiCares. Photo courtesy of Yoshiki Foundation America.

I've been hearing that the pandemic has been very hard for people struggling with depression and addiction. You and I are used to being hermits when we work. You can sit in the studio, I can write in my office. But other people are struggling with not having that human contact. Zoom calls are great, but it's nice to see people in person. Has anyone mentioned that to you at all?

I'm kind of used to the isolation, being alone [in] the composition process. I haven't gone out to eat in one year. It's very strange. I thought I could be just by myself, like one year without seeing anyone, but it's feeling strange. If I start feeling like that, I can imagine other people. I love loneliness. I used to love loneliness. But this is strange. I talked to some of my musician friends who were acting fine on Zoom calls, but I could see through it.

You've talked about your suicidal thoughts and mental health issues. Do you think that more musicians will be inspired to open up about those things seeing that there are major figures such as yourself being very public about this? And have you noticed that?

Yeah. Sometimes we also see musicians kill themselves. I think that being on stage and being off stage, we get lost in between somehow. When I met David Bowie a long time ago, I asked him, "Where do you draw the line [between] your real life and life on stage?" He couldn't answer it. He said, "That's a good question."

The Yoshiki Foundation America is based in the States, but you have an international reach. You've donated to earthquake and tsunami relief, COVID relief, childhood cancer research and Meals On Wheels. Are there any other charitable causes that are close to your heart that you want to get involved with?

Oh, yes, we are also donating to environmental issues, sustainability issues. We are learning more and more how important they are.

I've heard that when Hide was alive, he had been helping out an X Japan fan who was terminally ill, and then you took over following his unexpected death. Could you tell us about that story?

I think the Make-A-Wish Foundation in Japan approached Hide. There was this huge Hide fan named Mayuko who had bone marrow disease. [After] Hide passed away, I didn't know what to do. I was organizing some disaster relief, but I took over the position. I started supporting her to the end of her life. Hide inspired me. She was very strong to the last minute. She was very inspirational.

I believe you're the first Japanese music artist to have a Disney+ special in America which includes two of your Disney covers, "Let It Go" and "Can You Feel the Love Tonight." I'm curious how that came about?

I'm very grateful that Disney+ approached me to do my life story and incorporate the Disney story. That documentary is almost 90% Japanese. I thought it was created for Disney+ Japan but Disney+ picked it up, and I was kind of surprised by that. I think my fans requested it. I don't know how that happened actually because it's almost like a foreign film [with subtitles].

I feel like Japan and other Asian countries have done well in response to the coronavirus. What do you think we can learn over here about the Eastern response to the pandemic?

This COVID-19 situation is all about, not "I'm first," [but] "I care about you first.". So wearing the mask or staying home is not for you [but] for your friends. That kind of thought. Some diseases [like smallpox] completely disappeared because our ancestors [were] vaccinated. That's why we don't have to deal with that. 

So, we are doing this for the next generation, or your friends or your family or people around the world. That's most important. Then secondary, also your life. That's how I think. I'm not saying you should it do this way, but those are my thoughts.

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