Embracing A New York State Of Mind
There are moments when writing my column I realize that I’ve aged, a bit. I often tell friends and family that I was working for record labels promoting new releases in Chicago when I was nine years old. That mildly insignificant lie allows me to pretend that I’m in my late 50s. “To sleep, perchance to dream.”
When I moved to Chicago in 1972 I was working for A&M Records, the label that was built by Herb Alpert’s horn and the savvy of his business partner Jerry Moss. My primary responsibility was to call on radio station people like John Gehron at WLS and Nick Acerenza at WCFL in Chicago and others, and convince them to play our records. Depending on your perspective, this wasn’t as difficult or as easy as it sounds. From time to time I would visit the stations with another label rep, and not infrequently (in 1972 and 1973) that person was Frank Giuliano. One particular week—early 1972—we were at WCFL together and as happens, Frank had a new artist in tow . . . a singer songwriter who was destined to become a superstar. That artist was New York born-and-raised, was not a teen model or hearthrob, and was loaded with plenty of attitude. My first impression was that this guy was part world-class musician and part genuine New Yorker, with a sufficient amount of chutzpah. As Nick, Frank, Billy Joel and I talked my evaluation changed to a real appreciation of his potential. And I wished he was an A&M artist.
At the age of 23 Billy was (already) one confident artist. And with good reason. The album Frank was promoting was Joel's first, “Cold Spring Harbor”. Produced by Artie Ripp, it would be a good first effort, but the music made it clear that Billy was going to be a star. Two of the songs stood out to me then: She’s Got A Way” and “Tomorrow is Today”. But interestingly enough, as the four of us sat in Nick’s small office, Billy clearly had already left the “Cold Spring Harbor” album in his rear-view mirror. He wanted to talk about likely tracks for his next record. Although Billy seemed shy at first, once he started talking you learned to just get out of his way. He got all of our attention when he told us about a song for his next album. As I recall, Billy said “The song’s called “Captain Jack” and it’s about a kid sitting in his room at his parents home masturbating and shooting heroin. It’s fucking great”. Absent anything to listen to (of this new song) it was still a stunning moment in Nick’s office. But it convinced me that Billy was going to be a star, and I wanted to hear more of his music.
I’ve always liked visiting New York, and later working in Manhattan. It is something entirely different. I can talk about other cities I enjoyed traveling to—Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, D.C.—but New York is, well, New York. The rhythm has always been in the city, in the traffic, in the tunnels, on the bridges and, of course, in the people of New York. Had the founding fathers of this country placed the capital in New York it might have ruined the city. Their better instincts looked further south and the distance of a couple of hours by train or plane to Washington has enabled New York to become New York.
This spring most Americans have looked for an authoritative, confident, articulate, educated, thoughtful human being to show us leadership as the corona virus became a pandemic. Think President Obama at the memorial service for the slain Reverend Clementa Pinckney in 2015. He paused during his eulogy, and after a few moments of silence, began singing “Amazing Grace”. Everyone (other than a small group including Michelle Obama and Valerie Jarrett) was surprised. And, by the way, Obama doesn’t have the singing chops of John Legend, Bill Withers or Nat King Cole. Nevertheless he was a smash that day, because his thoughtful, caring and genuinely emotional character was plain for everyone to see and he brought everyone, literally, to their feet. It was an extraordinary moment.
In October 2001, we were all reeling. In the wake of the lives lost in the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon—and of course the lives that were lost on a plane in Shanksfield, Pennsylvania—America was pulling together. From the president to the first-responders and everyone in between, we were one nation. For months the streets of New York were filled with yellow taxicabs bedecked with American flags. A month later a concert was held at Madison Square Garden in New York to raise money for New York City’s first responders. It was an extraordinary evening where every artist brought their A-game, and much of the repertoire was perfect. Bon Jovi performed “Living On A Prayer” and David Bowie performed “Heroes”. The moment for me was Billy Joel taking the stage and performing “New York State of Mind”. He is a New Yorker, through and through.
Some folks like to get away,
Take a holiday from the neighborhood.
Hop a flight to Miami Beach or to Hollywood.
But I'm takin' a Greyhound
on the Hudson River line.
I'm in a New York state of mind.
As I said a few paragraphs ago, this spring we looked for an authoritative, confident, articulate, educated, thoughtful human being to show us leadership as the corona virus became a pandemic. Many politicians and community leaders raised their voices but the voice that seemed to embody all of what we were looking for was, somewhat ironically, New York’s governor Andrew Cuomo. The Bronx-born politician has been holding daily updates for months and to a great degree they’ve been must-see TV. He’s been honest and credible, charcteristics that have seemed lacking from Washington, D.C. This year that’s changed. We’re grateful for Cuomo’s calm, informed, thoughtful leadership. And I, for one, have embraced a New York state of mind.
