May 29th, 1997. That was the day that Jeff Buckley tragically passed. May 29th, 27 years later I had the opportunity to interview his manager, Dave Lory. The date being the 27th year anniversary of his death was a complete coincidence. It just happened to be the only day that worked for the both of us. I have been a gigantic fan of Buckley’s for years now (as a lot of you probably know), so being able to interview one of the closest people to him in his life was definitely surreal. I purposely avoided asking questions specifically about Buckley, as I know that Lory has accomplished a lot more than just that in his career. I’m also sure that he is tired of only ever being asked about that. That being said, there are definitely bits where he gave me insight into that dynamic as well as his experiences working with other artists. Most of this interview consists of information about the music industry especially pertaining to management. The man had a lot to say, so even after heavily editing the interview there is a lot to read. Read if you’d like, or don’t, but I figured I should have the transcript at least somewhere online. #epic 

-Pippin :3

P: Hello!

D: Hi, Pippin. It's Dave Lory. Nice to meet you!

P: I'm very excited to interview you today. Sorry about the delay. 

D:No problem. If you haven't traveled a lot, you don't understand [time zones].

P: Yeah, I’ve lived in Montana my whole life. Something you definitely pick up along the way, I'm sure.

D: My wife's British also. That's how we met. She was the promotion manager at Sony in Europe for Jeff Buckley. 

P: Yeah, I think I read that in the book. That's super cool. Well, I just had some questions that I wanted to ask you. 

D: Sure.

P: I mean, obviously I know you because of Jeff Buckley and your book, but I was kind of interested in your career outside of that or just artist management in general.

D: Right. 

P: So I guess my first question is, I'm curious how you got into it because I know that you wrote about being in the scene before that, like playing music. So how did that transition happen? 

D: Well, when I was playing music, I was also booking my bands and managing them. You know, doing accounting, all that stuff. Granted we were making $20 a night, but we were playing 25 to 28 days a month in Virginia and North and South Carolina. It's a hotbed for performing. So through that I got used to logistics, and it came to a point where we weren't writing original materials. I actually got Scott Travis to replace me. He's still the drummer with Judas Priest. I moved to New York with $250 in my pocket, and within 2 months I was on the street because I was staying with my buddy from Charlotte who moved to New York (who was a DJ and had a modeling agency). I wasn't paying rent. So one Saturday, the marshal showed up and threw me out on the streets. I had no job, no place to live, and was going to New York University walking from, you know, I think it was 96th Street down to 4th Street. Let's do the math on that one haha. 

P: Wow. 

D: I had to have a music minor as well as music business, so I'd have to write a 3 minute minuet on violin. I was doing them on a pitch mic because I couldn't get down to school to be on a piano. I moved to New York because I realized in order to manage, you had to know the areas you managed. So I kinda knew the booking end of things, obviously. I knew the tour management things a little bit, and then what I did was–because I didn't go to college till I was 24, the dean of the university happened to be a former bigwig in the industry that everybody liked. And he started the careers of Perry Como and Tony Bennett. You know, he actually found Rice and Webber who did Jesus Christ Superstar and all the big Broadway Musicals. And he taught me about the world of music. You could be big in France as an example. You didn't have to be big in America and make a great living. And I was vice president of the program, so he told me to give him 2 years of my life just to get this program up and running. It was the first one in the nation, and he would hook me up in the business. So when we had guest speakers, famous people, a lot are no longer around, but like Bill Graham, the promoter in California. I mean, it was anybody. And I'd go have coffee with them afterwards and was able to pick their brain. But the biggest thing was, like I told you, you have to know the areas that you're managing in order to manage it because you're not necessarily managing the artist, but you're really managing all the people around an artist to go in one direction for what the artist wants. 

P: Yeah.

D: And I started off by doing publicity at Howard Bloomings. It was the biggest VR company in the music business at the time. I was the only male in the whole office other than the owner Howard Bloom. And they treated me like shit. Alright? I would do something and they would all say, “why'd you do that?” I said, “did I do something wrong?” They said, “No, but why did you do it?” I said, “I thought that made sense to do it.” “That's beside the point. I didn't tell you to do it.” That's what I got used to every day. Well, that lady who weighed about 300 pounds was Van Halen's first publicist, and she taught me publicity. Back then, this was before the Internet, there were 3 month lead times. So I'll give you an example about that job. She left and we were doing the Prince Purple Rain tour. Prince's management said “We want Dave to continue.” I went into Howard and I said, “You know, the manager wants me to do that”, that was the biggest tour of the year, the Purple Rain Tour. He said, “You're an intern. I can't pay you.” I was 26 years old. 

P: That's crazy.

D: I hated him. He later told me at a conference he saw me speak at. He said, “I knew you'd amount to something.” I went, “Yeah, fuck off.” You know? So I did that for a year and a half. At the same time I was running Colony Records, the biggest record store on 49th and Broadway, till 2 in the morning, 7 days a week. So I'm vice president of the program. I'm doing all the music events at the school. I'm also doing an internship around the biggest firm of the year. I had Kenny Loggins. I had a lot of artists at the time, but it taught me to keep out of the press. Kenny Loggins, everybody likes, and Patty Smith was in a scandal at the time. I used that to get to know how the business worked. I'll give you an example. So Jeff was gonna play Cleveland, and I called the publicist at Sony and I said, “Have you talked to Jane at the Cleveland Plain Dealer?” Because with Prince, I had to pick 1 weekly, 1 daily, and 1 TV network that had to cover it and then give it to everybody else in that market. So I'm still best friends with Gary Graf of the Detroit Free. I've got Jim Farber. All these big journalists that are still around, that's how I got to know them, because I offered them something big early in my career. “Have you talked to Jane at the Cleveland Plain Dealer?” And the post said, “Oh, yeah. She's got the music.” I said, “Why did you get off the phone with her?” “Well, we'll send it out tomorrow.” I said, “Her deadline's tomorrow. Send it overnight.” Silence on the phone. That publicist knew I knew my shit. Same thing with 3 month lead times back then. Now it's different with the Internet. 

P: Right. 

D: But it's the same premise. Right? So they all have certain lead times. So that's that. At Colony Records, I worked at the cash register. I found out why people like certain types of music and what was selling, and it also incorporated Broadway as well, sheet music, stuff like that. All the big stars shopped there. You know, Mick Jagger would come in and have a list, and I'd sit him in the office and I'd go get all his stuff as an example. My office used to be next to Tower Records in New York City. So when I pulled my car around and my artist was no longer in that window, I knew what the fuck was going on. When I traveled around the world, I'd be in France or Australia or Japan. I always went to record stores to find my artist. I'd go to multiple ones if I couldn't find it. So I could go back and say, “These stores don't have this product.” “They shipped it already.” “No. They didn't. They didn't even know it existed.” I talked to the manager. You see what I'm saying? So by the time I was a sophomore in college, I had 2 country singles on the charts, and I was almost 27 at this point going into my junior year of school. I went to my mentor because I was burning out. I'm doing that internship. I'm doing 7 nights a week at the music store because that made me the money to live, and I'm vice president of the program. I'm taking this full load of classes. And he said, “You're exhausted.” I said, “I know. I'm tired. I stayed up 2 to 3 nights a week just to keep up with my shit.” And both the management, the schoolwork, etcetera. He said, “I cannot teach you anything else.” I took him, put him on my board, and started my own company. So he helped hook me up with stuff. I had this country artist, Pete Seager who was a legendary folk singer internationally. He taught me the world. I was going around the world solo with him and his guitar and learning the languages. This is back when you had to go through Checkpoint Charlie in Germany and all the Irish with the IRA. You might not remember, but it was dangerous. Every border you had to check-in your equipment, serial numbers, all that stuff so they'd know you weren't selling when you left. So I learned the road. When I got out I had a young band at that time. It was a Puerto Rican heavy metal band. And they weren't big at all. My mentor, this dean of the university, is really big. You probably never heard of them, but Menudo was a Spanish band out of Puerto Rico. Boy band, like the first boy band. They were selling out Madison Square Garden. He said, “Why don't you put out a press release?” Now I have all the press contacts. Right? Morat was the name of the band who were the real rock and rollers from Puerto Rico. They got arrested in front of Madison Square Garden and started making the press. Their first show I did for them was in Queens, because I knew the industry wouldn't go out that far to see a band. But there was a buzz on them, and label people were calling me for music. I kept saying, “There's no music yet. We're going to record shortly.” I had a limousine and I got them to give me all the addresses of their friends, because there were no emails back then. And we mailed out over a 1,000 pieces of mail saying, “If you show up at this time in front of Lamar's, the club–this was when they were coming to do their sound check, so it was really early–if you’re there and the band autographs your flier, you can come to a party in Midtown at the Sheraton.” So at 4 o'clock in the afternoon– I had the press there too–the band shows up, and gets out of a limousine. There's all these fans clamoring for an autograph, because they wanna go to the free party. And the press started taking photos, and that hit the New York Post, Pank 6, and all this stuff. Long story short, they didn't get signed. They weren't good enough. The industry said, “Fuck the band, but this guy knows how to fucking market an army.” So that kinda got me rolling. When I got out of school, I had to make a living. I'd started working at the Bottom Line Theater, which is a legendary venue in New York City, and I was a stage manager there. I learned how to put on shows. That just kinda started my evolution between that and New York University doing conferences in the industry with my mentor about how to produce an event. I worked there for about 4 months, and then my country artist was going to Russia for a three and a half week tour. I said “I'm not passing this up.” So I had to leave that job. When I got back, I had another mentor who came to the class to speak. I said, “I don't know what I'm gonna do to make money.” And he went over everything I've been doing in my life. He said, “You're a tour manager. Go out and be a tour manager.” So I earned a reputation in the eighties of being the cleaner. It's a mafia saying that you go clean up the mess. And it was when drugs, sex, and rock and roll was at its height. 

P: Right. 

D: I did all the metal bands. So I did Dio, KISS, Megadeth, and Savatage. I sat in that venue and walked around it and saw what the headliner’s tour manager did, and what the production people did. I was there at 6 in the morning. I didn't leave till the last band left. With my band and that experience, I learned what they did by watching. How to do the guest list; how to do the ticket counts. I befriended the lead tour manager for a deal, and he let me sit in on settlements to see how that worked. Then I went out with Dickey Betts of the Allman Brothers. They hadn't been together in 10 years. They were announcing they were getting back in 1989. I went out for 2 weeks with Dickey Betts. He liked me. I won't go into the story of why, but he basically got thrown in jail and I stuck up for him and he didn't kill me. So he recommended me for the job. I remember sitting in front of the agent, William Morris. He said, “Have you ever done an arena tour?” I said, “Oh, yeah. It's a breeze.” He said, “You better not be bullshitting me” because he got me the Dickey tour. Long story short, I got a good production manager and good crew people, and I let them do their jobs. I became the guy that fixed everything or could take a band and reposition them in the market or turn an artist around. Later it came to starting companies up and turning divisions of record companies around, and that example was when I was managing Jeff, I had 3 other artists in the world. None of them were popular in America. I had a Grammy winner out of Sweden who was booked in Asia and Japan. I had the runner-up to Australian Idol 1st year. It was huge in Australia. It was making me 200,000 a year in just commission, just for Australia.

P: Wow. 

D: I did try to break them elsewhere, and sometimes it didn't work and sometimes it did. But, nonetheless, they didn't break in America. So that's when I started flying around the world, learning the world of music. So when Jeff died, Danny Goldberg, who I co managed the Allman Brothers with, was president of Atlantic Records. He was managing Nirvana when Kirt killed himself. Then he went to Mercury Records, which is part of Polygram and is now universal. That was the time Jeff disappeared, and he called me up and said you're part of a club now that you didn’t want to be a part of. He followed up every day to make sure I was okay for 4 weeks. We didn't find him for 6 days, and then, he said, “I got this idea. I'm gonna send you a plane ticket. Will you come to LA?” I said, “Sure.” So a limo shows up at my house. I had ridden in limos before with Greg Allman. Then I'm flying first class from New York to LA. I get a limo to pick me up at the airport. It takes me to his office. He's not there. He's at his house in Malibu. He used to go to Malibu for the summers with his family. I had 2 assistants come up to me. One says, “I'm here to answer your phones”, and the other said, “I'm here to do any paperwork you need to be done.” And I started going, “This is freaking bizarre.” I went to his house, and he said, “I had this idea.” It was right when I walked in. “How would you like to run International?” Because all my acts were big internationally, and he knew it. I said, “What's your vision for international?” He goes, “Hell, I don't care. It's up to you. You call the shots. If anybody comes to me, they go back to you. You don't have to report to anybody. You have money to spend however you wanna spend it, and you get a T and E of $250,000.” That was my first corporate job. I also sat on the board of the governors of NARIS prior to that. I have a music mom, Linda Moran. If you Google her, she's the most powerful woman in the music business. She's president of the songwriters hall of fame. She used to be the biggest wig in the industry, worked at Warner Brothers corporate affairs. I first met her at the Grammys board of governors. Because all these people worked at companies and I worked for myself, they would gossip all the time. I stood up in a meeting one time. I said, “You know, I can't deal with this shit, guys.” I came here to do something. As I was walking towards the door, this woman, Linda Moran, said, “Young man, meet me outside.” She came outside. I didn't know who she was, and she says, “I like what you said, but I don't like the way you said. You need to learn a few things.” I was shocked. She goes, “If you want, I will take you under my wings”, and I became one of Linda's boys. Linda's boys are some of the heaviest people in the industry. It's about 14 of us that run publishing and labels. She'd call me out on my shit, and she'd also guide me on everything. So what I'm saying is that there is importance in finding great mentors, and they're out there. That's why I give time back, and I teach. I did a grad program at William Paterson. I taught 1 a year there and also once a year at New York University. I actually developed a music business program in Italy one summer. They flew me over to do that. So I'm all about the educational aspects. I'm so anal because of being a tour manager that I would put together a curriculum. Well, it took me about 2 classes to realize that's not the way to do it. I'd just show up, sit on the desk, and I'd say, “Here I am, guys. You got me for an hour and 40 minutes. What do you wanna know?” Everybody would be raising their hands, because I just let the guard down, pulled the curtain back, and said, “I'm here.” There's over a 100 applicants at the Clive Davis School of Music. They called me, because I was well known at this point. So I got down and there was me and one other guy who wasn't in the music industry. I knew the board that was interviewing me in the next meeting, and I knew I wouldn't get [the job] because I dropped out of school junior year. So I said, “I don't have a degree.” They said, “Dave, we can't hire you.” I said, “I know, but I didn't want to embarrass you in front of the dean.” He said, “This sucks Dave, because you got the knowledge to do it.” I said, “What can I say?” I had 2 hits on the charts at the time. Well anyway 2 weeks later, the guy who got it,–you know, the guy not from the music business (he had a PhD)–he called me. He said, “Can I invite you to lunch?” I said, “Sure.” So we go to lunch, and he says, “I'd like you to help me put together the program.” I said, “Great. What's the pay?” He goes, “Well, I can't pay you because you don't have a degree.” I threw my napkin down. Hadn't even ordered yet, and I said, “You got a fucking PhD. Go figure it out.” I walked out. Then at William Patterson the dean waived it, and I was teaching the grad program. He told me to go to this other underclass program, because they were having problems. Some accountant was trying to teach them how to market young talent, but he thought he was too cool for the room. You know, he didn't wanna do that. So when I sat down with him managing Buckley, I was like, “Dude, you ain't Jeff Buckley. You ain't anywhere near the artists that I've worked with. So I suggest you get your shit together and do as we tell you to do if you wanna succeed.” And he did. Within 2 months of that class getting out for the summer, they tenfold got all the Facebook likes and stuff like that. The guy had a vinyl, so we gave away phonograph players, things like that. So at the end of school, the dean asked me to come back to that class, and I did. There was the accountant that was teaching it, my dean and the dean of the whole school. Well, the dean of the music business program said, “I gotta know, why in the hell did this happen so quickly after 6 months of just nothing?” This kid raises his hand. He goes, it's like “Dave says, piss poor planning equals piss poor results.” I'm starting to slide towards the door, right? The big Dean's there. Then the bell rang or whatever it was. The dean said, “Mister Lory, can I see you for a minute after class?” And I went, “Oh shit.” He came up to me and he goes, “If they learned anything at all in this program, that will serve them well.” The key I want you to get from this is mentors, and if you wanna get into management, you gotta know the areas you're managing. So you gotta do every job and do as many internships as possible. 

P: Yeah. I think I'm definitely doing my best out here. I mean, I do live in Missoula, Montana, so it's not exactly New York, but I’ve definitely been putting my foot in the door as much as I can. 

D: Exactly. Music at the end of the day has got a human emotion to it. So that's where I saw record companies not treat artists like human beings. As a personal manager, I did. I also learned by working at a label–I was responsible for over 300 artists worldwide outside America– that you didn't have to like the music. You had to know it for a business. I was the guy that broke Shania Twain Pop. I went to several international companies–she had a big country album before that– and I said, “You guys are gonna break Shania pop”, and they told me I was smoking crack. I redid the album that had her in a red pantsuit, and then I restyled her, remixed the record, took the pedal steel output in keyboards, etcetera, and did the first video You’re Still The One. It was that “Man I Feel Like A Woman”, all those songs. You’ve probably heard them somewhere. She broke worldwide. Next to my UK company at the Brit Awards, she got artist of the year, album of the year, and song of the year. I looked at my label president from the UK, and I said, “A lot of people smoke and crack, Howard.” So then when Universal bought Polygram–I'd only been there 18 months– it turned it into the number one international record company in the world. Eventually we all got fired, and it was a sad day for everybody. Then Danny Goldberg then called me and said, “Look, I'm gonna start a record company. I got 50,000,000.” I said, “Alright.” So I structured that whole company, made all the deals worldwide, was in charge of international artist development, all touring, etcetera. I actually pseudo managed several artists too, and we were the number one independent label the 1st 2 years in business according to Billboard.

P: Wow. 

D: My contract was up after 3 years. I just didn't wanna be at a label anymore. I'd spent 4 years at one, and I just didn't like it. So, I got an investment of a million when I started my management company with a former president at Mercury Records. We signed Courtney Love, Robert Earl Keen, Duncan Sheik, all these artists that were making money. We did that for a year and a half until we found out our investor was in a Ponzi scheme, and the SEC served as The Security Exchange Commission. I don't know if you heard about Bernie Madoff. He was in a Ponzi scheme in New York. Basically, you're robbing Peter to pay Paul because you're stealing money.  We were clean. I wasn't involved in that. He was just an investor in our company, but after that, I went to work for JWT, the ad agency to consult the entertainment division. That was difficult because they think they should get music for free because they're promoting your music. Labels just want money, they don't give a shit. It's a real tug of war. I was a consultant, so I worked 9 months on projects with Steve Van Zant, who has a radio show. He's a guitar player of Springsteen. I had Paul McCartney. I just put stuff together. I had NASCAR with Domino's Pizza, and then they decided after 9 months they were gonna go with something else. So things fell through, especially with McCartney because the head of the department said, “I wanna meet McCartney.” I'm like, “You don't understand, dude. To work with McCartney, he's gotta trust you.” I had done multiple shows with McCartney and his manager, so they trusted me. They told us to, “Go to the hotel, and we'll call you when Paul's downstairs.” And he said, “No, I wanna know where Paul's staying.” I said, “You don't get it, dude.” So I just told Paul to walk away because the guy was an idiot. He got fired about 4 weeks later. Then I started another management company out of there and learned the ad world. Now I just built a new company, which I can't believe I'm doing. We got a deal signed for 17,000,000, but we haven't seen the money in a year now and dealing with some complicated international transactions, everything's in escrow–which is a bank account controlled by multiple governments. I don't know if it's ever gonna materialize or not, but it's merchandise management, and live events. I'm the president of it, but I put it all together just like I did the other record company. 

P: I was kind of wondering about the artist manager dynamic that you've experienced, like as you've had your career? For example, it seems like you and Jeff were pretty close. So I was just curious how you navigate that kind of relationship because, obviously it's business but you also care about these people. 

D: Whenever you start courting an artist, you're friends. I'll give you a couple examples of when I wasn't, but with Jeff, we were friends first. With Greg Allman, it was friends first. Most of them, it was friends first, but then you eventually have to become the dad and not be so close to them. You either have to go in and kick ass because of drugs or band members that think they're the star, but they're just side people. It could be a whole host of issues. You have to fly out and sit them down and be dad. With Jeff I used to say,–we used to go out and have beers all the time– “Well, you know what? You're fucking being a prima donna and your band's out of control, and this is the way I have to treat things.” Greg Allman used to overdose all the time, heroin, you know, alcohol. That band hated each other. Been together 25 years, and I was always having to put up a fight. Then there was Courtney Love. My first meeting with Courtney Love, I had a publicist in the UK call me. Courtney was without a record deal and a publishing deal at that time. This was 2004. The guy that was my partner was the president of the label as I told you.

P: Yeah. 

D: His whole job was to make artists like him, but sometimes you can't be liked. We all know about Courtney Love, right? We know the stories. So when we got down there, I go to the phone. He's checking us in, my partner,  and I say, “Courtney?” on the phone. She goes, “Yeah? Oh, you're that New York management guy. I don't know if I want a manager.” I said, “Great. I'm gonna go play golf” and hung the phone up on her. My partner said, “God, that was rude Dave.” I said, “You don't know what we're dealing with here.” The reason I got called was because the publicist said Courtney did a photo shoot in the UK on Christmas Eve shaving her private parts. The photographer took all these photos and they appeared on the front cover of a huge music magazine. The publicist said if “Dave Lory was in charge, this would have never happened.” That's how I got the meeting. So first night, we come in. There's a note at the front desk. “Miss Love would like to meet you at 8 o'clock in the restaurant at the bar.” Alright. So we go to the bar. We're having drinks. Down comes this woman. She's obviously the nanny to Frances Bean, and we know Frances because she looked just like Kurt Cobain. They were checking us out. Finally–about midnight–the bartender comes over and says, “Miss Love said we'd like you to go over to this cabana over here and she'll be right down.” I'm pissed by this time. I'm like, “Nobody treats me this disrespectful. I don't care who you are.” Courtney was famous for being famous. That's her claim to fame. I mean when she was in Hole, they did a really great record, but all the nightmare stories I'd heard–and you probably heard too–are true. We go to the cabana. She comes walking down. It's like we're at the Grammys or the Oscars. The windows are opening up. The breeze is blowing. She's wearing this gown like she's walking the red carpet, right? I mean, star power written all over. The 2 artists that I compared her to were: Cher, a great actress and not a great music talent, and Madonna, a great musical performer and a terrible actress. I thought she could do both. Have you ever watched the Larry Flint movie? Courtney's amazing in that, but what I later found out was that films couldn't insure her because of her drug habit. Courtney comes and sits down. She starts talking. I go, “Shut the fuck up.” I said, “Courtney, I fire everybody around you, rule number 1. Rule number 2..” and I start listing rules.

I get to rule number 4, and David Leach, my partner said, “Courtney, excuse me. Dave, can I see you over here?” we go over there. He's never managed before, but says “I thought we were trying to manage her.” I said, “We are.” He said “Well, what's that all about?” I said “Dude, that's the biggest TV star you're ever gonna meet. We're gonna put her in a box. We're gonna screw it shut. We're gonna put chains around it. She's gonna know her place.” She was so smart. It was like she was sitting there throwing fastballs and baseball at me. I’d throw them down going, “That works 5 years from now. That'll work next week. That'll work 5 months from now.” I mean she's that smart, and that’s why it's a shame that she just destroyed herself. Anyway, the next night we get a call to come down to the same bar. She comes walking in like the red carpet again. We get through another 6 or 5 hours, and we're walking to the elevator. I had told her before we got up, I said, “When you sit down and look me in the eye and say, ‘David, it's your way. I'll do as you want.’ Then we got a deal.” and as we're walking to the elevator, she's going, “I really wanna do this Dave.” I turned around and said, “What did I fucking say, Courtney?” We get into the elevator and David, my partner, looks at me. He goes, “Dude, are you gonna light it up on this woman?” I said, “No.” Then the 3rd night, we get called into the kitchen of the hotel. She's there in sweatpants and had a shower, hair's a mess. She goes, “Alright, Dave. It's your way. Are you happy?” I said, “Great. I'm flying back to New York in the morning. I'll call you when I go.” and I walked out. My partner was just flabbergasted, but he was a nice guy. I was the tough guy. When I would sit down and go, “Courtney, sit down.” she would listen to me. We did the MTV award. She was giving the award out to Smashing Pumpkins, Foo Fighters, and a third band. She and Billy Corgan hated each other. Dave Grohl also hated her, for obvious reasons because of Nirvana. The third one also hated her. Rick Krim was running MTV at the time and he said, “Who's Courtney's manager?” because Courtney draws press. So MTV said, “Let's get celebrities,” and Courtney was one of them. They called me up. I ran. They flew us over.

P: Mhmm. 

D: She had fallen asleep in the waiting area with a cigarette still in her hand. They said we're ready for her, and I said, “Courtney, wake up.” I yelled at her, and she popped up. I said, “If you say one bad or discouraging word towards any of those bands, I'm out of here.” And she didn't. So that gives you a few examples, but with Courtney, she had to have that stern parent. Greg had to have somebody on the road with him like a brother, because his brother died. And his brother used to look out after him. He knew if I was on the road, he wouldn't have overdosed. Jeff was pretty trusting towards me as you read in the book, because I fought for him. Somebody that read the book that we got rid of with this new company, one of the founders, said, “I read your book three times. You don't like authority.” He's 28 years old and an idiot. I said, “You don't understand. I don't work for the record company. I work for the arts.”. Donnie Einer, the president of Columbia at the time, would make people cry. He was so mean to people. Sometimes you have to be like that. If you've got an artist who's got a bidding war at the labels, agents, publishers, whatever, you're only picking one. Initially, they're all pissed off at you. Now as you grow in your career, there's a respect level. I've lost talent that I wanted to have. It's a ruthless business. My daughter's at Virgin Records right now. Finally got what she thought was her dream job in radio promotion. She's working for the GM on the West Coast and the head of promotion on the East Coast in New York. They dump shit on her. They call her every time of the day of the week including the weekends and nights. I took her back to the train to go back to New York last weekend and said, “Do you wanna talk about it?” You know, my daughter is very stubborn. We butt heads, but she said, “It's like I don't get a day off.” They used to complain about me being on holiday and always on the phone, among other things. I said, “Lily, when I was on the phone it wasn't that I didn't want to jump in the pool and play with you. I did want to do that, don't get me wrong.” And I said, “It's because dad had to deal with the artist” because she's learning how she has to deal with an artist when they call in. And I said, “They're people. You can't just not take their call because you're on a holiday.” And she goes, “I get it.” I said, “If you wanna be in this business, you gotta understand that.” My wife did, but you also gotta be careful not to go down the slippery slope. It's not that hard today. It was back then. I mean, we had a guy on the Allman Brothers tour whose whole job was to get cocaine locally and spell out the next city. Then it was me searching the tour bus, checking the ID for all the girls they picked up. One night, I'd thrown all these girls off because this band had been in trouble before about taking an underage girl across state lines. I threw her off. Somehow when I went back, she got her ass back on the bus. The girl comes up to the front. We're like an hour and a half down the road, and she goes, “Those guys said I could prove to you I'm 18.” I said, “Show me your ID” then she started taking off all her clothes. I made her sit there naked until she gave me her parents' phone number. I said, “You're lucky I'm on this bus.” The bus driver was looking in his rearview mirror going, “Fuck, Dave. Fuck.” Then I flew her back 1st class and took it out of the band's salary. 

P: That’s so funny. Wow. 

D: When you're a tour manager, you really have to be an asshole, especially with that genre. If it's metal, which this was, you know, that's hardcore stuff.

P: What kind of traits in your opinion does it take for someone to have to be a manager? Just in general, but also, you know, touring and stuff like that. 

D: You just have to have the experience of it. You know, people have to respect that you know what you're talking about. Even taking music classes. When I'm sitting there in rehearsal, backup singers are not singing right. I go, “No. It's 13531.” My mother was a music teacher, so I played piano. I kinda knew what was going on. I knew how to read music because I was a percussionist and a drummer. I was a drummer on the road, and when they said, “Oh, you don't know what it's like doing 200 days in a band.” “Yes. I do. You know, I'm not just a suit.” That's important from an artist standpoint that you know what the hell you're doing. So do as much as you can through internships. They don't have to be music oriented, but there's always a local promoter there or a club where you could volunteer your services and show nights. Just suck it all up. You can go to any PR company and learn how PR is done. Now you just adjust it to the music business. Record stores aren't there anymore so that's kinda tough and taken away, but there might be a record company that has a regional office there that you could help with sales or be a college rep. That's how a lot of people got started in the business going to record companies. Do you know who my intern was at the New Music Seminar? I ran the biggest music conference in the world in the 80s and the end of the nineties. It was RuPaul before RuPaul broke and Craig Kallman, who's currently the president of Atlantic Records. That was the time when hip hop, new wave, punk were breaking and the big Greenwich Village scene. I knew all the club owners because I was booking 35 venues a night. I booked Nirvana before they got signed. I booked Pearl Jam before they got signed. I've had all those hip hop artists before they got signed. 

P: That’s super cool! And what was the most memorable experience you've had since being a manager or even just working in the music industry?

D: That's a hard one. There’s probably 2. One of them was the songwriter hall of fame dinner I produced for a few years. I left after a few years because 9/11 happened. We had a TV deal with USA Networks. TV at the time wasn't taking on new properties. There's nobody to know what the fuck was going on. I called Linda Moran, who's now the president of the Songwriter Hall of Fame, and I said I'm out of here. They tried for a couple of years to get us back. I never went back, but the 1st year I did it, we were taking on a project. Basically when you sat there for the award show, you just watched a video screen, scroll down for about, what seemed like 15 minutes. It was very slow and boring. The year before, we went knowing we weren’t gonna do it the next year. So we ran it like a TV show.They were getting the lifetime achievement award that night, and we were trying to get a TV show. We didn't want any industry people giving out the awards. We wanted stars. So we had Kim Cattrall–when Sex and the City was really hot on TV– give the award out to Neil Diamond as an example. We also had Paul McCartney give the award to Brian Wilson. Long story short, this is how you fly by the seat of your pants. So, anyway, James Brown had in his rider–which is a thing they put together for when you're doing a promotional event or a tour–of what they need. He insisted on a white Lincoln because “Lincoln freed the slaves.” Well, we got him the white Lincoln but a black Lincoln for the luggage. He wouldn't get in the fucking car. My pager's going off. I called my staff member at the airport. He said, “He won't get in the fucking car.” So I get another fucking white limousine out for that son of a bitch. And we go to Diddy, and we said–oh, no, it wasn't Diddy it was Puff Daddy. That's who it was–“Look, James might not make it on time, so we need you to accept the award on his behalf.” Now this is live, you know? There's no fucking tape and shit, and he said, “Dave, I came here to give it to James or I'm not going on.” We're like, “Great” So I'm outside. My coproducer's inside. I said, “He's not here yet.” He goes, “What do I do?” I said, “Stall”. He said, “What do you mean stall?” “Just play music and stall.” Finally, the limo pulls up. I said, “This is James.” So James gets in and when we got there I said, “Mister Brown, We're running late. You need to be on.” He said, “Son, it's not my fault somebody sent a black limousine.” We get in the freight elevator. We go on up. I said, “Please, Mister Brown.” He said, “I want a glass of champagne.” Elevator door opens up. I’m on my walkie talkie, “Get me a goddamn glass of champagne now.” So he's drinking his champagne. I knew they were gonna introduce him any second. I finally convinced him that if he wasn't there to accept the award to just make a joke saying, “Oh, James, late as always.” So anyway, he hands me his glass. Right when they say, “And ladies and gentlemen, James Brown.” I take him out of the freight elevator and push him up on stage. I'm just relieved. The show went out without a hitch. I get a tap on my shoulders. It’s his entourage going, “Where's our table?” Because he was so late, some people had moved up to where their table was. I got security to remove everybody from that table, sat down, and then somebody's tugging on my jacket. It was Brian Wilson. He says, “Dave, can you take me to the potty?” So I'm taking Brian Wilson to the bathroom. Now here's the best climax. The night before, Lieber and Stoller were being inducted. We were gonna do the Kansas City song. It's an old song. Anyway, long story short, they sent us a video, 15 minutes long of 18 groups singing Kansas City. We told them to narrow it down. They wanted the head of ASCAP, which is a performing rights agency, to present the award, and we wouldn't let them do that either. We had stars, because we're trying to get a TV deal. Well, they wouldn't cut it back and said they wouldn't show up. I put him on hold and I looked up at my co producer in the office. I said, “They're not gonna show up so they can fuck off.” I said, “If you don't wanna come, that's fine. We'll make arrangements. Bye.” Hung up. We cut it down to 5 minutes, because I gave the award anyway. I saw him 2 years later, and they couldn't thank me enough. What we did was this: Paul Shaffer was giving–do you know who Paul Shaffer is?

P: Maybe?

D: He's the band leader for David Letterman. So anyway, we called Paul in the office that night. We said, “Paul, after you give out the award, would you mind going over to a piano and start plucking up, Kansas City?” He goes, “Yeah, no problem.” I'm driving. My phone rings. It's one of the board members of Songwriter Hall of Fame. He said, “I got somebody here Dave who wants to say hi to you.” It's Richie Sambora from Bon Joke. I said, “Richie, would you do me a favor at the dinner tomorrow night? When Paul starts playing Kansas City, go up on the stage and join him.” He goes, “Sure, bro” I said, “What kind of guitar do you want? He goes, “Just make sure it's 6 strings and then tune.” “I'll do anything for you, brother.” So I got him. I had Hanson that I worked with at Burger Records. You know, Oompah? They were the hottest boy band at the moment. I got them to go up. I didn't get McCartney. I didn't ask McCartney or James Brown because I knew they probably wouldn’t. If you ask him–I mean, Paul wouldn't even tell us he was showing up at the show until he showed up even though his security did a walk through with us because Paul never wants you to use his name to promote an event. He always leaves you hanging, and he pays for the hotel and his flight and everything himself. That's one thing I love about McCartney. I dated his daughter a couple of times, but I couldn't put that in the book. Buckley was dating the one that had the fashion line. I've seen her. Dating is the wrong word, but, anyway, the good old days. Long story short, I had this plan put together. I pulled all the paparazzi out of the Marriott Ballroom. I said to my publicist, “Keep them all out here. I'll tell you when they can come back in.” All the paparazzi–these are big time photographers and shit–they're like, “What the fuck?” I'm on my walkie talkie. My co producer’s with the paparazzi. Here comes Hanson. I said, “Paul's standing up.” Paul's heading to the stage. James Brown just got up. Neil Diamond just got up. Kim Cottrell just got up. They were all heading up to the stage. There were enough mics going down the front. You had all these people taking turns singing Kansas City. It was one of those songs you can do that with. I go bring the paparazzi in. They took photos and they made national news. That's one story. It was just pure magic. That was just: “here's our plan, let's see if it works.” Nobody knew about it but myself and my copartner. So that was pretty exciting.

P: Oh I bet!

D: The other exciting time was when I moved from Charlotte from being a drummer. I broke up the biggest band in the state. My friends and them would make jokes when I came home for the holidays and say–I'd meet somebody; we'd be at a party– “There's Dave. Wannabe rock star.” I went to the Charlotte Coliseum the first time with Megadeth and Savatage, 20,000 people. I was in the front of the stage going, “Charlotte, are you fucking ready to rock and roll?” and my dad –who god bless him–supported me, but he didn't get what I was trying to do. My mom, a music teacher, loved it. I got 20,000 people screaming, and I go, “Would you welcome Ronnie James Dio?” I've gone from a strip club playing drums or a house party to now I'm at the arena in my hometown, and I'm on the stage introducing one of the biggest metal tours that year. The second time was when the Palmer brothers were in town. They're from the south, obviously, and Charlotte's in the south. It was my birthday. Normally, I would introduce the band next to the monitor desk off the stage. You know, “Ladies and gentlemen, would you please welcome the Allman Brothers band?” It was the voice of God, they’d call it. Well, that night, the monitor tech said, “Dave, this mic isn't working. You gotta use center stage.” When I walked out, the spotlight hit me, and the band came out singing happy birthday In front of 20,000.

P: Aw, that's really sweet. 

D: Then your friends start saying, “Oh, man. I'm envious of you.” No you can’t be. It's because you quit playing because your girlfriend didn't like it. Or you didn't have the balls to starve in New York like I did in the winter months. You know, breaking into an office every night with no food and one change of clothes because that's all you got. I had a long lost cousin that put me in one of the richest buildings in New York City at the time when he heard I was on the street. My parents didn't know for years. The other thing that's very exciting, and what I like best, is a live show. When you go to a movie, people are walking out smiling. When you go into a venue at 6 in the morning and you're overseeing it, and you're putting up a stage, lighting, sound, dealing with the cops, security, the guest list, all that shit. Then you're going out there and you introduce the band, and at the end of the night you're doing your settlement while the band's on stage and you come out and see when the lights go on 20,000 people walking out with smiles on their faces. Or when you have a great live band like the Allman Brothers were or how Buckley was. That was the other thing with Buckley. I turned around the Allman Brothers. I had fixed turns on the road. I'd started a successful record company. I turned around in the international department, then I broke Jeff Buckley. It's like, what else is there to do? I did an award show. It's kinda like, what’s next? With Jeff, what was great is we started with him and his guitar, coffee shops and bookstores. We kept moving him up, and then when we got the band out. By the end of it, he was selling out multiple venues in Paris and Sydney and London. It was insane. One fan at a time. No hit record. Well, and it's crazy because he still has such a legacy even to this day. 

P:It's just really incredible. I mean, I feel like, at least in my experience, it seems like there’s also been a resurgence of his popularity in the last couple of years, which is cool to see. 

D: Well, I like to think the book did it. I mean I think so. When they approached me to write at CA, the big talent agency, they said, “You know, you need to write the book. None of the other books are right.”  And I said, “I don't talk about my artist when they're alive. Why would I talk about it when they're dead” It's a very personal relationship. They wanted me to testify against Courtney because she had stolen Kurt's trust money from Frances Bean, and I wouldn't. I said, “You have to subpoena me. I won't do it.” Long story short thought, I thought about it. I had turned down every interview since he died. The writer that wrote that book with me was with me in Ireland, and Jeff disappeared when I had another artist who was just starting her European tour. Her single was a hit called 1 “Hell of a Life.” She cried through her whole set, which I put in the book. I mean, it was a fucking nightmare dealing with that shit. Then getting fired shortly after because of his mom, who we disowned. I mean, the war still goes on. She's trying to do a documentary. She can't get the people to talk. I'm trying to do a doc. She won't release money, and I got major people behind it. It's like a fight. 

P: I've kind of been following that a little bit. Iit seems like it's kind of a big battle still, which is unfortunate. 

D: In Australia, my books are doing well. President of Sony asked me if we were gonna do a bundle of new music not released before from a radio show down there and bundle it with my book. She went to the heads of Sony and said, “It's my right to turn down everything and don't do anything to help Dave Lory sell his book” because she hasn't been able to write one. She didn't she didn't know him herself. I put it in the book in a very legal way where I said, “You want me to send you a tour book to your mom?” “No. Don't talk to my mom.” You know? When we got fired, the producer, Eddie Wallace who did Grace and also was gonna do this record, and myself got fired. We were the only ones around it musically. I had all these photos spread out in the 1st marketing meeting. I said, “All the ones with the red dots, he approved.” She goes, “I like that one.” I said, “But he didn't approve that one.” She goes, “I don't care. I like that one.” I said, “This ain't about you. It's about your son.” And she said, “I don't care.” Or “Let's remix this.” “Your son approved that mix.” You know? So I knew I was gonna get fired. That was the hardest part of my career. I remember my first national radio interview at World Cafe, which is an NPR network. Very famous. It's about hip music and hip musicians. Anyway, it's in Philadelphia. The girl doing it had read the [book] transcript before it came out, and she was a huge fan. We're going over everything and all of a sudden she got that “Tell me about when you got the call” look. Even just writing the chapter was tough. That was the second chapter I wrote because I had to have 2 chapters for the book publishers. I sat on my back porch and cried for 3 days. My wife kept coming out to check on me. I hadn't grieved. I was so busy taking care of everybody else. I just blocked it out. So I'm sitting in this interview, and she says, “Tell me about when you get the call.” I'm looking down at the desk in the radio station. I'm trying to compose myself and go, “Don't crack up.” This is national. I look up, and she's bawling like a baby, and I'm like, “Don't do this to me.” I'm throwing Kleenex over at her. The other hard part was that I had to do satellite tours on the radio. What they mean by that is live, Iheartradio, they'll send out to all their stations that are appropriate, like the alternative stations be it Jeff or a pop station if it's Mariah Carey. They said "We're gonna have this person doing a satellite tour”. What that means is you go into their studio at like 5 in the morning, and starting about 6 you start doing 9 minutes on the station, 1 minute off. 9 minutes on the station, 1 minute off. Obviously, the first question when I had to do it was, “Tell us when you got the call, Dave. Tell us when you got the call, Dave.” It got to about 10 o'clock or 9:30, and WDHA in New Jersey, the DJ, gets on. You travel so much in this business that if I saw somebody, I'd know him, but you get people saying, “Oh, so and so in Cleveland said to say hi.” You probably know him, but you can't remember him. If I saw their face though, I would because I'm good with faces. Anyway, this DJ said, “Dave, we met with the Allman Brothers. I don't know if you remember me”, “Sure, I do”, He goes, “So let's get started here.” He says he only has 9 minutes. I start choking up, and he said, “Dave, I hear this is very emotional. I'm hearing you crack up.” Thank God he knew me and respected me, so he didn't keep drilling it and saying, “Oh, good. I'm making him cry” like some people would. I got off and I looked at the producer behind the glass. I said, “Push this back.” He said, “Dave, this is live radio.” I said, “I don't give a shit. I need a cigarette and I need some fucking air. I'm sorry about my French.” So I went outside, and I was like, “Holy shit.” Then I came back and finished it. After I said this when I was doing the interviews, I said something like, “When I get on that plane in Sydney,” which is my last stop, “I'm gonna look up in the sky. I'm gonna say, I hope I made you proud, bro. That's the last time I'm talking about Jeff Buckley.” Well, about a year later, I turned down everything that came to me. A couple attorneys that I know called me up, because their friends were starting a podcast. The reason I didn't do press before was because the BBC called me on the 10th anniversary of his death, and because it was a BBC, I said, “Oh, what the fuck? I'll do it.” Right? So I told the DJ before I got on, I said, “Look, I don't want any questions about his death, or I'll leave.” He had no problem. First fucking one. First question. “So tell me, Dave, what it was like when he disappeared?” Bam. Dead air. Told the DJ off, and I didn't do any more interviews. So about 2 years later, happened in about the same week, I built up a resistance talking about this. When I did my q and a tours, it was 3 sections. It was Live at Sine, Grace Takes Over the World, and the aftermath. They're each a half an hour. Before that, I played music that was recorded in Sydney live from his last live tour. Band was amazing. They've never released it, but I played that for the hour so people could hear music they had never heard before. I get to the 3rd chapter, and I start talking about when I got the call and blah blah blah. I'd look out and there'd be people crying, people with their heads down. I'd have to make a joke, not only for them, but for me too. I'd say,” You know how this movie ends”, and they’d start laughing, and it kinda broke the ice. So anyway, I hadn't talked about him in 2 years. I got good at interviews, because I was able to just rationalize it or put it in a box while I was talking about it so I wasn't too emotional. You know, in my head, I'd put it to rest. Nobody wants to go through that. Then I got the call about Michael Hutchence hanging himself in Australia. I knew his manager and said, “What the fuck do I do?” You know, it's not like it's on the Internet. You Google, what do you do when your rockstar dies.

P: That's brutal. I can't even imagine going through all of that, and then having to deal with the aftermath with press and interviews just seems like a lot. I think a lot of people don't realize that people like you are also just normal people that are grieving the death of a friend, so then it becomes this weird thing. 

D: My wife worked for Jeff. Jeff loved her. I mean, we got a giant poster on the wall. It says, “Sammy, you're like scones and hot tea in the morning. They don't make those anymore, and they don't make people like you.” I'm paraphrasing, but it was just because she protected him from the press. So obviously, he loved her. He hated the press. But what artist doesn't?

P: Well I have 2 more questions for you Dave. 

D: Sure!

P: What is one piece of advice you would give to someone who is wanting to join that industry? Like, something that you can maybe warn them about or just any advice that you have. 

D: Just do anything and everything to learn everything about everything. The more knowledge you have, the longer you can stay in the business. I'm a perfect example of that. In 89’, the music business crashed as well as Wall Street. That's when the internet came on board. We went from making 20% off a $16 CD to 20% of a 9¢ stream, and that's only if they bought it. Everybody is stealing music, and the whole business just crashed. I was 50 years old. I said, “What the hell am I gonna do now?” I had to close a company of 26 years. I laid off people that were interns that became assistants who became partners through the years. They were like my kids. I remember my daughter who I think was 6 at the time, 7, something like that. Anyway, we're at the dinner table, and she had seen one of the people I had to lay off in the neighborhood. She said to him, oh, something about her dad, and he said, “I haven't seen your dad in a while.” She said, “I thought you worked with my dad.” He said, “No. He had to lay us off at Christmas.” This is, like, November or 1st of December, and, at the dinner table, she said, “I can't believe you, dad. You fired Jim.” I didn't know how to react and or what to tell her at her age so she'd understand it. Leave it to the wife.. She said he had to because “there wasn't enough money for toys at Christmas.” and she went, “okay.” Kid talk. She's learning that version now though. You don't enter a career. You enter a lifestyle that takes over, and it affects everybody around you. It affected me because once I started getting to the hotel room away from all the chaos, I would have a drink and have another drink, and then for a few years I had a drinking problem. It affected my family. Thank God we're all still together, but it took a toll on us. My wife's from the business, so she understood it. I was explaining to my daughter a couple weeks ago–about getting on the phone on holidays and how dad used to drink at night, and it's because dad was mentally drained dealing with all the shit. It was my escape, and it just kept building. It's really hard because back in those days, not so much now, but still a little bit of it, you know, if you didn't do drugs, if you didn't have massive sex, if you didn't do crazy things, people thought something was wrong with you. I mean, the money just kept coming because you went from, like I said, the vinyl to this 8 track to the cassette to the, you know, CD because people had to keep buying music. The same music they already bought. So then when the streaming came in and nobody was paying for it, we ran out of options. When I was younger, I didn't have to buy an album. You know, parents gave me a couple bucks for allowance. You'd go buy the latest single. Well, they quit selling the singles. And instead of kids being able to even today, well, they can, you know, online. But, you know, when you're touching something, you're investing. Does that make sense? 

P: Yeah.

D: You know, you open up an album and you see the liner notes and the words and, you know, stuff like that. Not to mention, be able to roll your joints on the double record flipped over. But, you know, the lifestyle, if you let it eat you up and spit you out. Because it was like entering a tornado or a vacuum that you could not explain to the world. And this 28 year old we kicked out as the original founder of our company, he said, “Oh, I can't wait for this.” And I took him backstage to see Anne Wilson of Art because she was doing " Forget Her" by Jeff Buckley and her manager/attorney called me for me to come and see the show. And I was always a big Art fan. So I brought her the book and we were talking and, you know, I took him backstage and we were standing outside the dressing room area. I pulled him by a shirt. I said, “Slow down my man. She knows we're out here.” It was embarrassing, because he'd never been backstage and didn’t know how to act. I found that out after the fact. I said to him, “You never ask for an autograph and you never ask for a photo if I'm around. Never.” So when they invited me in and stood up and said, “Dave, it's so good to finally meet you. I'll have you know, I'm such a big Jeff Buckley fan.” And she goes, “Please sit down.” All my artists and this guy were standing up in the back of the dressing room. I sat down and I said, “Here's a book.” She opened it and saw that I signed it for her and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She goes, “Can I get a picture with you?” I said, “Certainly.” I don't have a lot of pictures of me with artists because I hate those people that only ever want to get a photo. I happened to be standing next to him (the 28 year old). Anyway, I then said, “Would you mind if my friends joined you for a photo? You can say no if you want to.” They couldn't hear me say it. She goes, “No, bring them over.” So I said, “Come here, guys.” They got a picture with Anne too. I told him afterwards, “That's how you handle yourself, dude. Quit being a star fucker.” I did Lady Gaga's first tour with Monster Ball when that big hit record came out. I did Semi Precious Weapons too which opened for it. This is when the music business crashed. I love the live business so I said, “I'll go do that.” I realized early on, I'm too old to be doing this shit, sleeping 4 hours a night riding a bus 10 hours to the next city. No sleep. But anyway I ended up doing a lot of work with Gaga, and so when we were in Camden my wife brought my 2 girls down. I forget how old they were, but I think they were in high school. I said, “Lady Gaga, would you mind if I introduce my daughters to you?” She said, “Dave, bring them back.” We've been on the road, like, 9 months together. I bring them back and, of course, they each had girlfriends with them. She was so gracious and spent lots of time with them. As I was leaving the dressing room, I heard my oldest daughter's friend say, “Your dad is so cool.” She looked at her and said, “No he's not.” My youngest once said to me, “Your job as my dad is one thing.” I said, “What's that?” “Get me to meet Justin Bieber.” When I got her to meet Justin Bieber, she couldn't even talk. The whole time and just kept backing up. She was so scared. 

P: That's so funny. I probably would have done the same thing. 

D: You don't wanna spoil your kids, but it's hard not to. 

P: Exactly. Well, for my last question, it doesn't really have anything to do with the music industry, but I'm just curious if you had to pick one song that you could listen to for the rest of your life, what would it be? 

D: The old desert island. Oh god. It's a hard question. Probably “Lover You Should’ve Come Over” by Buckley.

P: That's my pick too, actually. 

D: It's because my wife was his promotion manager. It was just that every time that song when she was on the road was played, we gave each other a hug and it was our moment. So it just kinda became our song without us ever saying it was our song. We're celebrating 30 years next year. We separated a year at one point, but I got smart. 

P: Wow, well congratulations! You know it’s just a beautiful song too, just on its own. So that's a good pick. 

D: I'm probably missing one. When I hang up I'll say, “Oh my god. I forgot that one song.” I like all types of music, all genres. I've learned to respect them. I think you kinda have to with this sort of job. It's all about the mood too. So what year are you in school?

P: I'm a freshman. Well, this will be my sophomore year, this next year. I'm very excited. I've changed my mind a lot of times now, but after I read your book, I think for me, I spent a lot of time convincing myself that  music was not a real career because that's what everyone always tells you. Even though both my parents were in bands growing up. I mean, not big ones, but you know, local stuff. I think music is the one thing that I am passionate about. So finally, after reading your book, I was like, “You know what? Maybe I can make a career out of the things I enjoy.” 

D: I don't know if you remember reading in my book, but I was the starting quarterback for my football team in high school. I was always tall and thin, but I learned to run out of bounds and slide, because physics taught me at an early age that 250 lbs against 150 lbs didn't work. Well, my coach always wanted me to come in at 6 in the morning and lift weights. Said “You're gonna get hurt.” Well first off, I was fast as hell. Nobody could catch me. I was too tired, because I'd be out of clubs either watching bands or performing till 2 in the morning. So I quit the football team and he called the guidance camp then my guide counselor called my parents in for a meeting. The guidance counselor said, “Do you wanna be a dishwasher the rest of your life?” I got pissed. I leaned over her desk and moved everything to one side with my hand. I looked her in the eye. I said, “I know exactly what I wanna do.” And she said, “What?” I said, “I'm gonna cut the soles off my shoes, climb a tree, and learn to play the flute.” The look on her face. My mom was giggling. My dad was confused. And I said, “I wanna be a musician.” This was 1977. You think it's not a career now? Can you imagine then? We didn't play to be famous or to be rock stars. We played because it was the air that we breathed. If we didn't do it, we'd die. It wasn't about money. It wasn't about girls. It wasn't about drugs. It was about how we had to play. Now I'm not saying we didn’t partake in the other things. There's always a goal of finding a woman we could all go sleep with because we couldn't afford a hotel room. I'm not talking about sexually. I'm talking about the ones that took us under their wings like the mom. You had that in every city. We were dirt poor. They weren't groupies. They were moms, and without them, we wouldn’t have survived. That's why when, you know, you talk about all the famous groupies and the world like Pamela Des Barres and all those. We all know those women, but [the moms] looked out after us. Nobody understood us. So we understood each other. You know? A lot of people are gonna put you down for what you're trying to do because they're not gonna get it. I gave you some examples where I went back home, and then they got it. Wish they were me, but they didn't have the balls to starve and you literally starve. The reason for that is it weeds out the wannabes that wanna be an actor, wanna be a musician, wanna be in the arts. It's not easy. You have to believe in yourself, believe in your journey, and believe it's gonna happen. Don't let the naysayers try to put you down, because they will be eating crow down the line while you're living large or whatever the goal is. Going to my high school's 20th anniversary. Everybody's working as a plumber or a carpenter or at Walgreens. When I went down, I arrived with my girlfriend in a limousine and got out. I had the driver get me out. I did it on purpose. They all used to laugh at me, “Dave's gonna go be a rockstar.” “Well, how's that working for you? Here you are.” So just remember, believe in yourself. 

P: I will. Thank you for that. 

D: You're the only person that will do that. 

P: I mean even reaching out to you, it was kind of just sort of on a whim. I was like, “I don't know if he'll respond, but I guess we might as well try.” And then you did. 

D: I have nothing but time for people who wanna learn about the industry, because I met great people that did that to me. That is part of it. Don't ever forget that if you make it either.

P: I won’t.

D: You pinky promise?

P: I pinky promise. All my knowledge will be for everybody else too. Well, thank you so much, and good luck to you and your book and your family.

D: You have a good day! 

P: You too!

D: Bye.