Never Say No To A Rock Star In The Studio With Dylan, Sinat, De Berger, Glenn. Editorial Schaffner Press, Tapa Blanda En Inglés, 2016

Descripción

- Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Never Say No to a Rock Star In the Studio with Dylan, Sinatra, Jagger, and More By Glenn Berger Schaffner Press Copyright © 2016 Glenn Berger All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-943156-08-5

Contenido
Prelude: It Was All Me,
Track One - Day One: Yes, Sir, James Brown!,
Track Two - The Schlepper,
Track Three - Phil Ramone Plucks Me from Obscurity,
Track Four - Paul Simon: The Superstar,
Track Five - Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks: The Untold Story,
Track Six - Judy Collins and Arif Mardin: A Turkishly Delightful New Years,
Track Seven - Too Much Too Soon: The New York Dolls,
Track Eight - Oddballs and Angels: Phoebe Snow,
Track Nine - The Freaks, the Pricks, and the Gems,
Track Ten - The Night I Didn't Have Sex with Bette Midler,
Track Eleven - Fifty Ways to Leave Your Mentor,
Track Twelve - The Saddest Thing of All: My Thirty Minutes with Frank Sinatra,
Track Thirteen - All That Bob Fosse,
Track Fourteen - How Paul Shaffer Almost Got Me Killed,
Track Fifteen - The Time Mick Jagger Sang Honky Tonk Women Just For Me,
Postlude: It Was All Them,
Acknowledgments,
Glenn Berger: A Select Discography,
Author Bio,

CAPÍTULO 1
Day One: Yes Sir, James Brown!
I was stuck.
The year was 1972, and I had just turned seventeen.
Should I wear my Keds or my blue platform shoes with the cork soles?
I'd already put on ripped jeans, a cream-colored sports jacket with brown piping on super-giant lapels, and a polyester striped shirt with the top three buttons open.
At least the rest of my outfit was done.
I had to choose soon or else I was going to be late.
I went with the sneakers.
Maybe I'd have to move fast.
I had no idea what would be asked of me.
I looked in the mirror on the way out the door.
My long red hair cascaded over my shoulders in huge banana curls.
My gold-rimmed glasses with orange lenses added a distinctly John Lennon-ish vibe.
Was I ready?
I blew out a giant breath and left the apartment - ready or not.
In order to get to my destination by subway from my home in Sheepshead Bay, I first had to cross the trestle over the Belt Parkway, a popular place for muggers to lurk and steal the fifty cents I carried in my pocket for a couple slices of pizza.
Safely over that obstacle, I plunked my 35-cent brass token with the Y carved in the middle into the wooden turnstile and zoomed up the stairs to the elevated train platform, with barely enough time to sneak through the closing doors of the graffiti-emblazoned Manhattan-bound D train.
Once on the train, I grabbed a seat, gripping the little piece of paper that read: A&R Recording Studios, 799 7th Avenue, 52nd Street, 7th floor.
See Tony in the main office.
I kept staring at it, holding it so tightly my hand hurt, afraid that if I loosened my grip or took my eyes off it for a second it would fly out the window and onto the tracks, causing me to forget where I was going, y permanentemente blowing my one and only chance for stardom and an escape from Brooklyn.
But, as much as I wanted the job, I was equally terrified to get there.
With each stop, my chest vibrated more heavily, in sync with the clacking of the subway car as it descended from its elevated track and flew into the black tunnel that would take me into Manhattan.
I got off at the 47th-50th Street subway stop in Midtown.
I followed the grid of New York's streets to find my way to 52nd Street and 7th Avenue, zipping between the worker bees on 6th Avenue in a race that only I knew I was running.
Standing in front of the building marked 799, I read the discreet metal plaque labeled A&R Recording.
My blood pressure kicked up a notch.
This was my big chance.
Would I mess it up?
My legs started to ache, and my breathing quickened.
Because the first six floors of 799 7th Avenue were home to Manhattan Community College, there was a crush of African-American and Hispanic teenagers in the front lobby.
I stood among the throng, watching the numbers light up above the elevator doors as it inched down.