Hey Stranger, Welcome To The Boomtown. Music and Memory.
It was a moment. We were at home, sitting and streaming the film “Runaway Jury”. The story for this 2003 release was set in New Orleans. The Big Easy has long been one of my favorite cities for the culture, the music and, of course, the food. My first visit was in 1980, and my work in the music business kept bringing me back. Seeing the transformation of John Grisham’s book, the film’s plot twists, and the performances of the four principal players—John Cusack, Dustin Hoffman, Gene Hackman and Rachel Weisz—kept me thoroughly entertained. About half a dozen pieces of recorded music were dropped into key moments of the film. One of those music tracks brings me to two guys named David.
As was often the case in the second half of the 20th century, talented musicians regularly found each other and made record deals through happenstance, a sharp A&R person, mutual friends, sheer luck, or perhaps divine guidance in the form of a Muse. In the early 1980s, two talented musicians, David Ricketts and David Baerwald, came together, and one can only assume there was a spark as they became an act.
Early on one could see and hear that their ideas were original, their music refreshing, and that something special was coming. And that’s why they weren’t an unusual signing for A&M Records. The label was a perfect fit for what their music could become. To be clear, this wasn’t really a band, but rather two talented people whose 1984 demo tape made its way to A&M. It took the better part of two years to get their first album out. They branded themselves as David and David (graphically represented as David+David). “Boomtown” was released in 1986 and a tour followed. My recollection is that the tour lasted fewer than a dozen dates. Maybe live performance was not going to be their thing. Nevertheless radio and retail loved the album and the first single “Welcome to the Boomtown”, perhaps because the lyrics provided such great imagery for the real or perceived life in Hollywood or L.A. in the 1980s.
Miss Christina drives a 9-4-4,
Satisfaction oozes from her pores
She keeps rings on her fingers,
marble on her floor
Cocaine in her dresser, bars on her doors
She keeps her back against the wall, So I say,
Welcome, Welcome to the boomtown
Pick a habit we’ve got plenty to go around
Welcome, Welcome to the boomtown
All that money makes such a succulent sound,
Welcome to the boomtown
The single became a top-40 Billboard hit, and more than 35 years later it is still a great listen. As it turned out, “Boomtown” was David+David’s only album.
About two years later another unusual and wonderful album was released by A&M. Singer-songwriter Toni Childs was in her late 20s and had already spent the better part of a decade writing songs, performing with numerous artists and learning the ropes of studio recording. Signed to A&M she was given a significant enough budget to record her first album in Europe and Swaziland. The diverse locales of the studios and the supporting musicians was reflected in the music, studio production, and lyrics of the songs on the album “Union”, many with a clear African or Afro-carribean flavor: tracks like “Stop Your Fussin’”, “Zimbabwe” and “Let The Rains Come Down”.
The album also showcased the unique, dynamic and rich nature of Childs’ vocal style, and the talents of producer David Ricketts (yes, the same David Ricketts from David+David). Childs could belt a driving vocal in “Dont’ Walk Away”, a rhythmic island tempo in “Stop Your Fussin’”, and a measured anthem in “Zimbabwe”. Her voice had a range and power that often surprised first-time listeners. While that 1st album did well, her 2nd, “House of Hope”, was less successful. Perhaps the lead track, “I’ve Got To Go Now”—with a theme about an abusive relationship—was too heavy for a general audience even though the song was well-crafted, credible, and Ricketts’ production was first rate. She’d later also record a cover of Jimmy Cliff’s “Many Rivers To Cross”, and Childs’ version is brilliant.
Meeting Toni and working her “Union” album remains a warm memory, but Toni was not just a talented singer and songwriter. She was a force. Sort of a benevolent hurricane. I keep a dozen of her tracks close so that at anytime I can immerse myself in her music.
Almost two years after Toni’s ”Union” album, the other David—David Baerwald—was working on his first solo album. Ultimately titled “Bedtime Stories” the songs had rich, sometimes dark, storylines but I loved every minute of the music. Shortly before I left A&M in 1990 I attended a company preview meeting which concluded with a brief performance by Baerwald, in an intimate setting, accompanying himself on acoustic guitar. His set seemed to be over, yet he lingered and offered to play one more song. That was, for me, the most powerful moment. The song was titled “Stranger”, and the lyrics brought back imagery that many of us would like to forget. He was singing about the men and women who were shuttled off to war in southeast Asia and returned, often damaged, sometimes broken.
Brother at this moment
you ain’t feeling any pain,
And your staring out the window
and it looks like rain
Your a veteran and you know
about monkeys on the brain
You watched every dream you had
lie broken in the drain
300,000 men all different all the same
Piled up like driftwood in the pouring rain
Hey stranger, ain’t there nothing I can say
Can you think of any way
that you can make it through the day
Hey Stranger is there something I can do
You lost it all for me,
There must be something I can do for you.
The lyrics continued, thinking about American society in general, not just the veterans:
A quarter of the country is
one paycheck from the street
A tenth of the country
has never had enough to eat
And one one-hundredth of the country
is strangling all the rest
And every policeman on the street
is wearing a bullet-proof vest
Hey stranger, ain’t there nothing I can say
Can you think of any way
that you can make it through the day
Hey Stranger is there something I can do,
You lost it all for me,
There must be something I can do for you.
I thought to myself, that is one amazing song. It reminded me of the times my friend Al Marks and I stopped at the Vietnam Memorial’s Wall of Names in Washington D.C. A few weeks later my friend Aaron Jacoves from the A&R Department stopped by my office and dropped off an advance cassette of the forthcoming album. That evening I dropped the cassette into the player in my car and drove home. The next day I called Aaron. He asked me what I thought of the album and I told him I loved it, but I was wondering what happened to “Stranger?” which wasn’t on the cassette. He said they weren’t certain it was going to be included and asked why I wanted to know. I reminded him of the performance Baerwald gave at the meeting months earlier, and how the song was just too good to be left on the proverbial “cutting room floor”. Some weeks (or months) later I received a copy of the ‘about-to-be-released' album and was happy to see “Stranger” on the list of tracks.
Last week while watching “Runaway Jury” a song came quietly out of the film and I knew that voice. It was David Baerwald singing “A Bitter Tree”, a track from his second album "Triage". I’m some 30 years removed from my days at A&M, and more years than that from “Boomtown” and “Stop Your Fussin’”. Nevertheless, music is such an important piece of fabric in our lives, sometimes when we don’t even know it.
When a familiar song or a familiar voice comes surprisingly through the radio or television or movie screen, we tend to perk up, listen more closely. And we are often transported to a an image, a moment, a memory. Or some piece of our personal history. Maybe a thought of one of our friends. And that’s a very good thing.
