At least a thousand times … I said to an artist “…in order to start, you have to start.” So please allow me to introduce myself as I kick off my very first column for American Songwriter. With a handful of Grammys and nominations and a bunch of hit records—my old boss Jimmy Iovine once said:
“Ron Fair is the most misunderstood person in the history of the record industry.”
I had signed and conquered the world with Christina Aguilera and produced the only hit record for the O’Jays that Gamble and Huff didn’t produce. I produced a 10-times-platinum soundtrack for Pretty Woman and a five-times platinum soundtrack for Reality Bites. And then hit records like “Lady Marmalade” by Christina Aguilera, Pink, Mya and Lil’ Kim; “Where is the Love” by the Black Eyed Peas; “Big Girls Don’t Cry” by Fergie; “Be Without You” by Mary J. Blige; “Love” by Keyshia Cole; and numerous No. 1 hits and platinum records by the Pussycat Dolls, Jonny Lang, Snow Patrol, Queen Latifah, Orianthi, Macy Gray, Big Mountain, and more.
Beginning in 1981, I worked my way through several A&R gigs—crowned by a 10-year run at Interscope-Geffen-A&M-Universal Music Group. I served as Chairman of Geffen Records, President of A&M Records, a record producer, executive producer, arranger, musician, engineer, string arranger, deli tray provider… you name it. I wore the many hats required to bring so many great songs and hit records to fruition.
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Ron Fair Will Always Be a “Record Man”
Along the way, I probably rubbed some folks the wrong way and inspired some tremendous music-math problem-solving. I probably picked up the tab at an expensive restaurant (and charged it to the label). I probably booked a limo, so I didn’t have to find a parking space. I probably wore an expensive suit purchased at the long-gone Barneys in Beverly Hills with worn-out Converse slip-ons and a V-neck T-shirt. I probably spoke with great authority in a loud, theatrical voice that was mistaken for anger or rudeness. I probably showered my artists with love and pep talks and very well-shaken martinis. That was the Ron Fair of the Interscope-Geffen-A&M era—when the industry failed to peg me as a “pop guy,” or an “urban guy,” or a “soundtrack guy,” or a “jazz guy.”
I was then and always will be—what was once known as a “record man.”
Through this column, I will tell stories, the “you-can’t-write-this-shit” unbelievable and sometimes bizarre truths of coming up from the streets in L.A. as a wedding singer, jingle producer, composer of original scores for low-budget porno movies, music publishing demo guy, incompetent jazz pianist, failed talent scout, and a down-on-his-luck music journalist. I did it all as I worked my way to the top of the industry with acclaim. I can claim fancy-titled positions, a string of monster hits under my belt, a ton of creative kindred-spirit fast friends, a reputation in studios around the world, a beautiful wife and four kids, and an unquenchable fire inside to never phone-it-in, never give up; never lose the inspiration—regardless of the perspiration.
“Never Lose the Inspiration—Regardless of the Perspiration”
And we all know—this is a cruel business—made even more challenging by AI, the proliferation of D-I-Y music, 100,000 new tracks uploaded to streaming platforms every day, a fatigued audience, (and let’s not even mention) global warming, and politics and maybe even UFO’s. Yeah, it’s tough. But at the core of it—of what still drives me—(and why I am writing this column) is one underlying thing—BELIEVING. Believing in a song. Believing in an artist. Believing in a chord change. Believing in a storyline. Believing in a mix. Believing in a partner. Believing in a bass line. Believing our own bullshit.
What we do as music creators is utter nonsense of never-ending belief—that the music we are crafting and creating and honing and polishing and suffering over—will make a difference in culture in radio, in streaming, in live shows, at weddings and bar mitzvahs and funerals and events—to our friends, to our families, to our kid’s 5th-grade math teacher—to the hairdresser and the bank teller and the barista at Starbucks—our precious music—will mean something. We BELIEVE! Forget the facts. We just BELIEVE!
And we can’t help ourselves. Music and the unshakable belief in all of its tentacles is a calling. It’s oxygen, a life force, a wavelength, a mission, a religion, a covenant all its own. Starry Eyed Dreamers. Madmen (and women.) Damn Fools. Idiots. Until—boom. That song, that record, that first chorus in the room—boom. How fast it goes from “lost” to “GENIUS.” Artists, songwriters, and producers persevere, re-invent, and block out naysayer noise. All driven by BELIEVING.
Ron Fair is Driven by BELIEVING
We are songwriters. We are musicians. We are not normal humans. We are tuned to a different frequency than regular people. But that’s really ok. It’s a gift. And it’s a powerful-albeit-illogical force.
Now, what to do with it? That will depend on your resilience, fighting spirit, commitment, inspiration from above, within, or wherever… and … your luck. Through this column, I will tell the stories of “right place right time” and numerous disastrous failures, along with many of the (praise) enormous successes that tell the story of my 45-year career as a “record man.”
I started in the music industry in 1977. I worked my way up from schlepping a Fender-Rhodes suitcase electric piano (they weigh a ton) so I could make $35 singing “By the Time I Get to Phoenix” at a low-rent wedding all the way to performing and conducting and winning at the Grammys – more than once.
I promise to reveal all the scars (and better yet)– the wounds that will never heal. If it seems like bragging, forgive me. But in our world of songwriting and recording- through the hits, the misses, the lowest and highest highs: we are a tribe. There is no “history book.” There is no “baseball card.” There are the village elders passing down tales of the young braves who slayed the wild buffalo, fed the village, and became CHIEFS.”
So let the tribal drums be heard, and thank you for welcoming me into your life by sharing all this in my American Songwriter column.
(Photo by Angela Weiss/WireImage)
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