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I Write the Songs/Bruce JohnstonBruce Johnston, one of the Beach Boys (vocals/piano), who is a prolific musician, songwriter, and music producer, became a good friend when I was living with Wolfman and Lou at the Ferrari Dr. house. I would have never suspected while driving my Beach Boys style woody station wagon back in Denver, that this friendship would come into my life, but very happily it did. On one exceptional, never to be forgotten evening, he dropped by the Palm apartment. He was working with various artist and producing with Terry Melcher at Equinox Records at the time.I had always liked Bruce. His handsome, west coast surfer looks, was in stark contrast to most musicians of the day, who were sporting hair longer than mine back then. He had a down to earth quality about him that never wavered in the often-hectic music world. When we met, he had already been a pro in the business for a decade. Besides penned to the Beach Boys, Jan and Dean, Elton John, Pink Floyd, David Cassidy, and a slew of others, he is known to have one of the most envied music publishing libraries in the business. Bruce was excited about a piece of music he had written, and was working on with David Cassidy, who was in studio at the time. He sat down at the piano, played a few riffs, paused, then started. As he drifted into his creation, completely absorbed, my 110% attention became completely disoriented and confused. What, the heck, was he singing about? It was not until he hit the chorus that I started to grasp some lyrical sense to the song. Melodically it was beautiful. However, when Bruce started singing, “I write the songs that make the whole world sing, I write the songs of love and special things, I write the songs that make the young girls cry, I write the songs, I write the songs”, l was flat out dumbstruck. I can remember thinking, “Geez, I know you are a Beach Boy and all, but really now, this is carrying it too far.” I thought it was the most egotistical, self-promoting song I had ever heard, and I had heard lots. I was shocked and surprised. It did not seem like Bruce. He was the iconic harmony voiced in many love songs and genius keyboard player. This made no sense.When he finished and turned around on the piano stool to get my reaction, I didn’t exactly know how to break the news to him. As if I had been given a full bottle of truth serum, I was honest and told him my thoughts. I didn’t care for the song at all, and before I knew it, the words, “It is one of the worst songs I have ever heard in my life” rolled off my tongue. He then explained, nicely, that I had misinterpreted the song. “You have to listen to it, like it was God singing”, he said. I felt a little embarrassed. He played it again, but still, even with the new insight and perspective, I didn’t think it had much of a chance. How would you get a song like that released and have people know it was sung on behalf of the man upstairs? Worse yet, some conceited artist would belt it out for all it’s worth, and convince a venerable audience he was master of the music universe. However, that didn’t seem to faze Bruce much. I knew that a piece of music could change dramatically once it was fully produced with all the instruments added, and vocal arrangements completed. It was this song’s only chance I thought. It would be challenging and a risk. Against all odds, you already the end result. . In retrospect, the vision Bruce had, bringing it to fruition, and to be chosen as the vehicle for its inception, now seems holy amongst songwriters. Especially since it became one of the world’s biggest hits. It is like God, truly willed it. I had wondered what it must have been like to sit down at the piano and let the chords, lyrics, and that arrangement funnel thru. It is obviously on a divine intervention level. The mega success of “I Write the Songs” by Barry Manilow, given to him after Cassidy’s go with it, and Bruce receiving a Grammy award in January 1976, just a few short months later after he played it for me, and then going on to receive Record of the Year in 1977, created a most unusual banter between us. I honestly didn’t mean to blurt out what I did that night, but it happened, forever tattooing that comment in the cosmos. Regardless of the incident, whenever I heard air play of the song afterwards, I had received a gift from Bruce that night. I held title to hearing it almost before anyone else on the planet. I saw Bruce several years later when I was living in Princeville, Kauai. The Beach Boys were playing for the Women’s Kemper. Paybacks can sometimes come without the slightest indication, and I got mine good.As Bruce took the mike that night to introduce “I Write the Songs”, he politely said to the audience he wanted to dedicate it to a friend. He then quickly added, she said it was the worst song she had ever heard in her life, and as I heard, “Bonnie, this is for you” I could only shake my head and smile. He had pulled off a taste of sweet revenge smoothly, and deservedly so. Most importantly, the comradery and friendship was still there. It has been “our joke” for 40 years. We had a great time reminiscing that night after the show about the good ‘ole days at Palm Avenue and RCA. It is a feeling like none other, and can’t be explained.However, in my defense, I was not sailing alone in the, “I don’t like the song boat.” I recently found out that Manilow was initially reluctant to record the song per his admission in his autobiography “Sweet Life”. As he said, “If you didn’t listen to it carefully you would think that the singer was singing about himself and on a monumental ego trip”. Thank you, Barry Manilow, for redemption and validation of a judgment that haunted me a long time. For prosperity sake, I would now like you to read the lyrics to a song I wished I could have bought stock in! :).I WRITE THE SONGSI’ve been alive forever and I wrote the very first songI put the words and melodies together, I am music, and I write the songs,I write the songs, that make the whole world singI write the songs of love and special thingsI write the songs that make the young girls cryI write the songs, I write the songsMy home lies deep within you, and I’ve got my own place in your soulNow when I look out through your eyes, I’m young again, even though I’m very oldOh, my music makes you dance and gives you spirit to take a chanceAnd, I wrote some rock and roll so you can moveMusic fills your heart, well that’s a real fine place to startIt’s from me, It’s for you, It’s from me, It’s for youIt’s a worldwide symphonyI write the songs that make the whole world singI write the songs of love and special thingsI write the songs that make the young girls cryI write the songs, I write the songs,I am music……and I write the songs.Written, composed & arranged by Bruce JohnstonThere were a few more times I saw Bruce after L.A. and Kauai at different venues. They were always spur-of-the- moment decisions to catch his show. I managed to always get a wave in, and a quick hi and howdy. However, golden friendships like this one seem to find their way back to you.The Beach Boys were playing in Charleston, WV. and my business partner, Pete Sternloff surprised me with tickets. We had an early dinner at the Adelphia, and there, I wrote Bruce a note in a nice card I had bought. My intention was to find one of the road staff to get it backstage to him. I arrived at the Clay Center, perused the lobby, and had a couple of glasses of wine. I finally decided my best shot to get the card delivered was with the merchandise guy set up in the lobby. I squeezed through the crowd to get up front of the stand and was intently trying to get his attention when something inspired me to look to my left. Standing right beside me was Bruce! How-in-the-world these things happen, still astonish me! It was a trillion to one shot we would end up, unassumingly, standing next to each other in Charleston, WV! What a kismet moment that was! I said his name, and as he looked at me, and realized who I was, it was like a kaleidoscope of years trying to merge together in a few seconds of time. We moved over to an area that was less congested and briefly had a rather fragmented conversation. It was shortly broken up by fans who recognized him. A mob scene almost ensued. I gave him the card I had written as he exited to perform, and in unspoken words we acknowledged that music thread that invisibly sews together those years in your heart. A few weeks later, my phone rang late one night. It was Bruce. His voice had not changed one bit. I immediately recognized who it was. Once more we landed in a conversation where a walk down our boulevard of music experiences was uniquely and ethereally bonded. Discussing our journey’s in life, musician friends, past and present, capturing those feelings of living in Hollywood back then, and the biz, swells up your soul. It is a personal fulfillment that no one could understand unless they had been there and lived through those good times. I had been starved for that kind of connection again. The one-hour phone call brought a nice warm glow that remained for several days. He had also said that I should write a book. Thanks Bruce Johnston, for your inspiration and encouragement. And, for never forgetting, and hopefully forgiving, that little history making comment back on Palm. You remain a cherished and beloved friend. ................
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