(Journalist) STEVEN IVORY: From Rags to Rick James
by NewsRoom/1Nation.com
STEVEN IVORY: From Rags to Rick James
STEVEN IVORY: From Rags to Rick James
(Aug. 10, 2004) "Hey, man, I just heard James Fox died."
Curt is not the hippest cat I know. But when he reached me on my cell with the news, I was afraid of whom he meant. Minutes later, a more informed source confirmed what I didn't want to believe.
Seeking someone with whom to commiserate, on a stoplight I lowered my car window and told the man in the Jeep that Rick James had died. He just looked at me and shrugged. I guess you had to be there, back in the day.
And I was.
I first met Rick James in 1978. I was a fledgling music reporter looking to cover the Next Big Thing, and the glib, good-natured Rick, a low-budget gonna-be in a worn leather waist coat, dirty jeans and an economy braid job, confidently insisted he was it. Our camaraderie was instant.
As disco and funk fought for domination of the airwaves in 1978, Rick's "You and I," the first single from "Come Get It," cleverly covered both bases by rigging the track with a catchy disco intro that gave way to an infectious R&B groove. The record reached #13 on the national charts, effectively putting the pertinacious Rick--originally signed and dropped by Motown back in 1968 with a rock/soul outfit called the Mynah Birds that included rocker Neil Young (no record was released)--in the big time.
He then produced tracks on a young white girl my roommate, photographer Bobby Holland, was dating, named Teena Marie. Teena, no doubt weary of our grilled cheese sandwiches, graciously bought us pots and pans. Contracted as a staff writer for Jobete, Motown's music publishing arm and a label artist, Teena's dream was to be produced by Smokey Robinson. However, Bobby casually suggested to Teena's manager that maybe Rick could do it. We watched him produce her "Wild And Peaceful" album at Marvin Gaye's Hollywood studio.
I was unaccustomed to how fast things happen in the entertainment business, and found Rick's rags to riches metamorphosis remarkable. Six months after the release of "Come Get It," Rick and his Stone City Band was living in a rented Villa in the hills--where Motown celebrated the album's "gold" status with a big party hosted by their gregarious new star, sporting a smoking jacket and cigarette holder.
From then on, Rick lived like a rock star. His new braids blew in the wind as he cruised Sunset Blvd in a Rolls Royce Corniche. If he was hitting Carlos n' Charlie's or the Roxy that night, he'd mention it to everyone he knew. By the appointed time, his entourage might have swelled to 10 or 15, all of us trying to sit near Rick.
Publicly, Rick was the brash, audacious rebel. However, it was the sensitive and subdued Rick who privately felt that, despite his success, he never got the respect deserved by a musician, writer and producer who made hit music for himself as well as the Temptations, his girl group the Mary Jane Girls, Smokey Robinson and Chaka Khan, even Eddie Murphy.
It made Rick fume to be routinely ignored by MTV (which in 1983 played Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" video only after CBS Records threatened to pull the clips of all its other artists, and only after the song had gone to #1 on the charts. Ironically, Jackson would revolutionize the music video medium altogether, which the music channel profited from greatly) and snubbed by Prince, who, as Rick's opening act on a 1980 tour, refused to socialize with Rick's camp. A couple of years later, Prince, while attending a Rick James show in Los Angeles, to the amusement of the crowd, repeatedly paraded through the audience on the back of bodyguard "Big" Chick, threatening to upstage the Mary Jane Girls' set.
I didn't see Rick much after he left Motown in the late '80s. Indeed, few were around for Rick's dark years, ruled by drugs and alcohol.
However, since his release from prison, I'd rooted for Rick from afar--admired the tenacity with which he sought to rebuild his career. Rick prided himself on being the real deal, even if ailing health prevented him from being the showman he once was.
The saddest thing--that at the time of his death he was touring again with Teena; that he'd finished a new album and written his memoirs; was immortalized in a hilarious send-up by comedian Dave Chappelle and that a movie of his life story is on the drawing board--is also the greatest thing. Hopefully, before he left here, Rick finally found certain satisfaction basking in the proud, RESPECTED shadow that is Rick James the legend.