Full disclosure today.
Most people who have heard and/or followed any of my podcasts, radio shows, radio show guest hostings or blog sites in recent years are, no doubt, aware than my main focus in those formats has, and continues to be, primarily political.
Some, though, may be aware of what I'm about to make everyone reading this piece aware of.
Broadcasting and political commentary have been the career, such as it is, for a fair number of years now, but there was a time, a long time ago, now, in a galaxy far, far away that I vocated a different vocation and professed a different profession.
With a nod and a wink to respected members of A.A. all over the world, allow me to introduce myself.
Hi. I'm SEP. And I was a songwriter.
Actually, come to think of it, I am alcoholic, too, but being as it's been thirty plus years since I climbed permanently aboard the wagon, I don't think of myself that way anymore. And I use the term "was" in describing my songwriter status because it's now been twenty plus years since I last found myself pickin' up the guitar and plyin' the tune-smith trade. With the exception of advertising jingles and/or parody songs that I still occasionally write, either for money or radio mirth, I hung up the songwriter spurs for good and always.
Something crossed my radar today, though, that put me into a brief, but poignant, period of reflection and reminiscence about the three chords and the truth days gone by. A name, actually, a name that, actually, you will very likely recognize.
Glen Campbell.
This iconic American music star is releasing a new album on June 9 and the album will be, and has been announced as, his final album. If you're not aware, the short story version is that Campbell, at age 80, is in the final stages of Alzheimer's and this collection of songs being released is both the last time he will be physically capable of recording as well as a plot perfect means of saying thanks and farewell to those who have been fans since he first came to fame in the early 1960's.
Details on the songs recorded and the noted guest stars appearing are available by pre-ordering the album at ITunes, Google Play or Amazon. Several of the songs on this final release, like many of the albums Campbell has recorded through the years, were written by the master composer whose work has become synonymous with Glen, Jimmy Webb.
And, again, both plot, and pitch, perfect, one song in particular on the album serves not only as yet another testament to the artistry of Campbell's voice singing Webb's lyrics and melodies, but as a title for the album that couldn't be any more fitting if it had been custom written for the project.
Adios.
It was coming across the announcement of the pending release that sparked the aforementioned reflection and reminisce on my part, including one of those moments we all experience where you suddenly realize that you've forgotten something that, at one time or another, you were fairly sure you would always remember.
In this case, it my near miss brush with greatness via the tuneful talents of Glen Campbell.
It's worth mentioning, by the way, that the "near miss" is a standard occupational hazard when the occupation is professional songwriting. Today's country compositions are most often the result of collaboration between whoever is recording the song and the songwriters who actually wrote the song, so, your chances of getting a song recorded these days depend, more than they ever have in the past, on that old chestnut of professional path clearing, "who you know".
But in the days of my own songwriting youth, with appropriate props to Peter Piper, the line between the singer of songs and the songwriters who shape the songs that the singers of songs would sing was much wider and more clearly defined. And given the ratio of struggling songwriters to struggling, let alone successful, singers in those days, the chances were very good that a songwriter's chances of successfully scoring a singer's selection of their song was only marginally better than that infamous hell of a chance afforded the average ice cube.
Put in a "..for God's sake, man, less of the letter S, already..." way, there were a whole lot more songwriters than there were singers to go around. So, the most likely outcome of any song pitch was outright rejection. Lying ever so impishly between"... thanks, but no thanks" and "...boy, everybody gonna be callin' you for songs from now on"..., was the near miss. The songwriter spin on "close, but no cigar." And if acceptance, eventual recording of and possible big dollar acquisition from one's writing efforts was an elusive butterfly of song, the near miss was, at least, the kind of consolation prize that the writer, in years to come, could fall back on when regaling with tales in answer to the grandkids asking "what did you do in the music wars, Grandpa?".
Well, I tell you, kids, I had me a couple of them "almost got rich and famous" moments along the words and music way.
...listening to a song I co-wrote that was brought to him by his own producer, the legendary Larry Butler, who had found the hits, "Lucille" and "The Gambler", among others, Kenny Rogers paid my co-writer and I one of our most memorable left handed compliments..."wow, Larry, this is a great song...I just don't hear it for me..."
Those of you taking songwriter notes should be aware that what you have there is the song pitch response equivalent of "...I really like you, but I think we should just be friends."
...listening to a song I co-wrote with a good friend who was playing keyboards in the back up band for the, then, massively successful group Alabama, a song that we wrote specifically and precisely for the massively successful group Alabama, Teddy Gentry, the bass player for the massively successful group Alabama nodded approvingly and told my co-writer friend, "...you know what? that is an absolute sure thing hit song...and I'm sure you're going to get it cut really soon..."
Again, aspiring songwriters note, this is the equivalent of "...you're very pretty/handsome...but, uhhh, you're just not my type..."
When it comes to the eventual, inevitable chapter in my autobiography dealing with my checkered path/misspent youth in the whirling world of words and music, though, the near miss I'm reasonably sure will still be with me in my fading years will center on the talent who triggered all this reflection and reminiscence in the first place.
Glen Campbell.
And a song I wrote during my first pro songwriter days, a period in which I had managed to forge a friendship and working relationship with country music icon Mel Tillis and the talented guys he had running his publishing operation. As well a period in which I had just come out of a difficult divorce from the mother of my, then, very young sons.
The very sons who, in fact, were the inspiration for the song in the first place.
The song was entitled "Saturday Fathers". It was inspired by one of those "weekend visits" with the kids, complete with the angst, anguish, regret and pathos found in all quality works of heartache and heartbreak. The music, and groove, meanwhile, were more of a "Gentle On My Mind" variety, even in my newb writing days, mindful of Paul Simon's published opinion that one trick to hit songwriting was to always play sad lyric off with upbeat music and vice versa. Matching sad to sad was a downer destined to self destruct and happy with happy was a sure fire saccharine attack guaranteed to O.D the listener into one form of coma or another (see: "Honey" by Bobby Goldsboro).
(Note: The rest of this story is partly apocryphal, having been neither personally witnessed or verified by any other means that would assure its authenticity. At the same time, I have no reason to completely discount it and, in that place where we all want things we want to be true to be true, I'm not above sharing it with you as, at the very least, plausible.)
The demo of the song floated around the office for a bit, generating a fair amount of enthusiasm as it seemed to have an aura of that "something completely different that sounds a lot like something we've heard before" that song seekers in the day (and probably to this day) seek.
Mel, himself, reportedly took the song into a session and took a pass at cutting it. And, as the legend looms, after feeling unsuccessful at capturing the performance he demanded of himself, Mel sent the demo along to a friend and peer who, Mel felt, could capture the mood, music and momentum the song required. Not so coincidental, I imagine, that Mel thought that a song that was heartfelt and poignant, while not quite crossing the line into maudlin, complete with a warm and inviting "Gentle On My Mind" feel might be just the hit making ticket for a guy not unfamiliar with heartfelt, poignant songs with a warm and inviting "Gentle On My Mind" feel.
The guy who landed smack dab at the beginning of a superstar career with his recording of..
...."Gentle On My Mind".
Ladies and gentlemen....hi! he's Glen Campbell!
As fessed to earlier, here's where the anecdote goes apocryphal.
Glen, apparently hearing the hit potential in the song, took his own turn at what we old school songsters used to describe as "layin down the tracks". And, like Mel before him, was unable to attain the achievement to which he aspired.
Because, as the legend grows, both urbanly and debatably, neither of these legendary and vastly experienced interpreters of lyric and melody could get through a satisfactory performance of my song about the emotional collateral damage of a divorce involving young children without finding themselves too emotionally affected to record a keep-able vocal.
Other words....damn song choked them up too much to be able to sing it all the way through.
Gotta tell ya the truth. For a long time (and probably, truth be told, even a little bit to this day still) I found myself very often in soft head shake mode as I pondered the fate of a song that was unavoidably destined to touch people's hearts in, at least, some small way but ended up touching their hearts in such a way that they couldn't deal with hearing it.
Nice work, heart-string yanker boy.
So, Glen Campbell tried to record my song which, if Glen and Mel's experiences were any indication, would have touched people's hearts in the millions. The millions of heartaches, the millions of heartaches, the millions of tears.....
...the millions of airplays ...and the millions of sales.
Kuh.
And Ching.
Lost opportunity, for both artistic recognition and life altering financial windfall, notwithstanding, it is a source of some pride that I can honestly count, among my souvenirs, the knowledge that something I wrote one afternoon with only a guitar, piece of paper, pencil and heart full of ache as resources was of sufficient quality to attract the caliber of talent possessed by iconic American popular music performers like Mel Tillis.
And Glen Campbell.
There's an old saying that relates to those who don't care much for second best.
"Close...only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes."
I'm inclined to beg to differ.
Because coming thiiiiiis close to having that song recorded and released by Glen Campbell more than counts in my book.
His final album is entitled Adios.
Adios, indeed, sir.
And muchas gracias...for giving it a shot.
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