The initial media attention surrounding Clive Davis The Soundtrack of My Life implied that the well-known record executives autobiography overflows with dishy, music-industry gossip. Davis decision to appear on Katie Courics talk show and drop one of his memoirs key bombshells – that hes bisexual – helped foster that impression.
Not that there was any doubt, but this man still knows how to craft and promote a piece of work for maximum buzz-generating effect. Yet those who plan to buy The Soundtrack of My Life should know that it isnt exactly a juicy tell-all. Its more of a humble-brag-all, one that trumpets Davis many accomplishments while often relying on the sort of diplomatic prose normally reserved for internal workplace memos.
Of course, the 80-year-old hitmaker who has launched and reignited a staggering number of high-profile music careers – including those of Janis Joplin, Barry Manilow, Aretha Franklin, Carlos Santana, Alicia Keys and, most famously, Whitney Houston – probably doesnt care about wowing anyone with his capacity to turn phrases. What he does care about is ensuring that his version of industry history gets documented, in permanent, published ink. On that front, hes done his job.
Davis career is certainly worthy of study. Despite the fact that he had little interest in early rock-and-roll, the Brooklyn boy with the Harvard law degree eventually proved – first at Columbia Records and later at his own Arista and J Records – that he possessed a discerning eye for talent and an irrefutable knack for finding songs that could catapult under-the-radar acts to mega-popularity.
His work with Houston – his greatest achievement, with the most tragic outcome – is covered in the books lengthiest chapter, which, naturally, recounts the shock Davis experienced after learning of Houstons death in 2012. There are moments when time stands still, and you feel as if you cant even begin to comprehend the words that are being spoken to you, he writes. Thats how I felt right then.
Davis also recounts his über-involved and occasionally blunt approach to guiding Houston and other artists, particularly those – like Manilow, Kelly Clarkson and Melissa Manchester – who wanted to compose their own music instead of singing the radio-ready melodies Davis selected.
After acknowledging such creative clashes, Davis follows up with gushy compliments about the immense genius of these artists. Even now, this old pro doesnt want to burn any bridges.
As observant as he seems to be, Davis occasionally claims to have been clueless about details that are hard to believe he missed. He says, for example, that he was unaware of Janis Joplins drug use. He also swears that he initially had no idea the members of Milli Vanilli – the most notorious lip synchers in fake-singing history – didnt perform the tracks on their hugely successful debut American album, which was distributed by Davis Arista.
I was shocked to learn that because I was a well-known musical executive, and Id submitted songs for this notorious album, people thought I was in on this elaborate scheme, he writes. Shocked? Really? When Davis has a reputation for being as hands-on as his two upper appendages will allow?
As for that aforementioned bisexuality bombshell, it doesnt appear until the books final chapter, when Davis acknowledges publicly for the first time that, following divorces from the two women who gave birth to his four children, he has primarily been in long-term romantic relationships with men.
He speaks about his orientation with a personal openness that might have enlivened other portions of the text, where a somewhat stilted and businesslike tone pervades.
But perhaps businesslike is appropriate for a man like Davis, a creative force but also an astute businessman, one who instinctively knows how to get deals done, spot a sure singing thing and harness a vocalists powers until the hitmaking heavens are left with no choice, really, but to make it rain.