#- with really good command of their vocal repertoire

[sticks-stones-sonic-insanity]

Same voice actor btw

[tokiwarcube]

I always wondered what the boys would think if their s/o was in a band (the genre is up to you) and they have the same position in the band as the boys. This has been a thought that won’t leave me alone, help me!!

P.s I love your writings for these 5 silly men !! :)

Aww, thank you so much!! I absolutely fell in love with this prompt -- and I had an absolute blast writing it! Now I will Also be thinking about this forever, haha. Enjoy! <3

(Implied NS/FW warning for Pickles' section!)

Nathan Explosion

My simple, multi-platinum krillionaire rockstar — for as much as he daydreams about what life would have been like if he got to live like a regular jack-off, it’s just not the path for him. So dating another famous lead vocalist? Right up his alley.

He actually likes it more than he thought — it’s nice to bounce lyrics off of you, and vice versa. Toying with pitch, cadence, and intonation, all the different vocal techniques without judgement of sounding silly… Your halls are always alive with the sound of music… even if the subject is about death and murder, it’s its own form of magic.

But singing at home and singing in concert are two very, very different beasts. He wasn’t prepared for how intense you could be on stage, with the band to back you up. Your confidence as you stride, growling so mean he can feel it in his blood before perking back up to bounce away? All of your little stunts? Half of him is taking notes for their next show, and half of him is utterly starstruck. Your eyes dart over to him every now and again, smiling when you notice his wide eyes. His breath hitches when you throw a little wave to him in response, and he can’t help the breathless “holy shit” that falls from his lips.

You’re not as popular as Dethklok, but you couldn’t tell that from inside the venue walls — with how easily you command the crowd, he’s certain you were a siren in a past life. Or now. You could tell everyone in this room to jump off a bridge, and they would, he’s certain of it.

That would make a good song, actually…

Pickles the Drummer

Pickles has a pretty sizable repertoire of instrument proficiency — bass, guitar, keys… a brief stint with an alto sax, as a bit… and currently, drums. He’s got a soft spot in his heart for all of it, each instrument representing a specific era of his life, but he’s found himself enjoying the drums the most. It’s strong, supportive — every song needs a beat! It takes a specific personality to play drums well, and it’s one that he both embodies within himself, and covets when in others.

This is all to say — he finds it very hot that you play drums.

And as a man who appreciates a nice set of legs, he very much likes the effects drumming has on your calves. Your calves might be sore after a long practice session, but that’s nothing compared to the bites he’ll leave later in the night.

He also loves to watch you play — sweat rolling down the column of your throat as you raise your hands above your head for another well-timed strike, lost in the rhythm… Woof.

You’ve kind of gotta beat him back with a stick while on tour if you ever want to go out for drinks after a show — if he had it his way, he’d be spending the post-concert glow in the hotel, letting you know just how much he liked your performance.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Anyone looking in would assume this would be a point of competition, but he actually really loves having someone he can talk technical with! Despite being in Dethklok, he doesn’t really get to talk guitar often — Toki, Murderface, and Pickles can play, sure, but the former two don’t give a fuck about technique, and Pickles just doesn’t care about it enough to chat about it outside of the studio.

He loves hearing about all of the little musical decisions you’ve contributed to in each song — don’t think he didn’t catch the time signature change there. Just a single bar, why? Or this section here, that was a reprise of the first song in the album — how are they connected? He catches all the little details, and he wants to know all about them. In this same vein, he’s also great to bounce ideas off of when you’re in a rut… but be careful! His ideas are damn-good, and at this rate, he might just need a spot in the writer’s credits.

It’s very fun to just sit down and jam with him, passing the melody back and forth as your improvised tune grows. He calls it practice — and in a sense, it is — but really, he just likes playing with you.

He pushes to have your tours alternate with Dethklok’s so he can be at all of your shows, and vice versa — you have his full attention during your solos, and he’s not above slapping the boys to get them to shuts up so he can hear you in all of your glory.

He’s pretty stationary on stage — such is the downside of working with a bunch of uncoordinated dumbasses. (He is not exempt from this.) But if you have the agility and focus to bounce around on stage while playing? Oh, he didn’t think he could fall in love any further. He didn’t think he was capable of being starstruck, but you’ve proven him wrong tenfold. He’ll happily brave a couple thousand rabid fans for the pit experience — sorry to all the people stuck behind his towering self, but being backstage is nothing compared to barrier. The flashing lights, choking fog and towering flames only make you look more beautiful than ever, and he can’t help but reach out to you when you waggle your fingers at the crowd.

Personally offended if you don’t throw him at least one pick on tour. He does not care that he is 1.) Dating you, and 2.) Has limitless access to your stash. It’s the principle.

You wear each other’s picks on necklaces <3

Toki Wartooth

You play rhythm too? Wowee! You’re so good, though — how are you not playing solos?

He is completely gobsmacked by the fact that not only are you not the lead guitarist, but that you don’t care to be, either. I mean, he has Skwisgaar to compete against — and as loathe as he is to say it, it’s a pretty fucking high bar to surpass. But you? You could easily play lead! You just don’t want to? What?

He doesn’t really get it, but he writes it off as just you being humble. Beyond that, your similarity doesn’t really play too big of a role in your shared lives! But when concert season rolls around, he’s insistent about hanging out at barrier, just so he can see what it’s like to be at one of your shows. And then, then, that’s when he gets it.

You never seem to stand still, bouncing this way and that, playing in ways he never even thought possible. You don’t need to play solos to wow the crowd — hell, he’s been practically raised by the most popular band in the world, but with you in front of him now, he feels like just another one of your adoring fans itching at the chance to even be seen. Nobody cheers louder than Toki, and he’s insistent on going to each and every one of your shows.

After show from here on out he’ll interlock hands with you, congratulating you on yet another show well-done. He traces the callouses on your fingertips, heart swelling with giddiness at dating such a badass guitarist.

William Murderface

Finally, someone else who appreciates a good bass line. A band is nothing without the bass, especially metal, and it’s nice to talk to someone else who understands that. Especially after being AJFA’d out off all their most recent albums.

Playing bass is a very thankless job — you have to support the entire band, giving them structure and direction without any of the thanks that the rhythm guitar or the drums get. The most, and I mean the most that he gets, is a solo at the end of the show. Which is fun, but you know… it’s very much a job that you take because you love the big picture, not the details.

That’s his point of view, anyways. Because the second he sees you in-show, his whole world gets flipped on his head.

You have a very confident poise on stage — unshakeable, much like the deep notes that you pluck from the instrument. And yet, you command attention from the crowd effortlessly. It’s like you were made for this — all long strides and sneaky smiles as you move around on stage. And despite the eccentricity of your fellow bandmates — a very energetic show, he’s noticed — you still draw a sizable amount of attention from the packed arena, and man does he wish he was in the pit right now so he could get that sly little smile head-on. And huh, maybe bass can be fun, after all.

He loves to brag about you, and will do so at any opportunity.

After seeing your prowess on stage, he starts practicing a bit outside of concert season… and then more, and more, until he finally feels ready enough to fight to get the bass turned up in the next Dethalbum. Thanksch, babe.

[jackie-talks-about-starkid]

Starship (Rewatch #4, 9/30/2020)

YouTube publish date: April 30, 2011

Number of views on date of rewatch: 4,171, 828

Original Performance Run: February 11-23, 2011 at the Hoover-Leppen Theatre in Chicago

Ticket price: $25

Director: Matt Lang

Music and Lyrics: Darren Criss

Book: Brian Holden, Matt Lang, Nick Lang, and Joe Walker

Cast album price and availability: $8.91 on Amazon and iTunes

     Release date: April 29, 2011

Parody or original: original content, inspired by Starship Troopers, The Little Mermaid, and Alien

Main cast and characters:

Bug - Joey Richter

February - Denise Donovan

Commander Up - Joe Walker

Taz/Buggette - Lauren Lopez

Tootsie Noodles/Pincer - Dylan Saunders

Mega-Girl - Meredith Stepien

Junior - Brian Holden

Roach - Brant Cox

Specs - Julia Albain

Krayonder - Joe Moses

Musical numbers

Act I

“I Wanna Be” Characters: Bug, Roach, and Ensemble (playing inhabitants of the Bug World)

“Get Back Up” Characters: Taz, Up, and Starship Rangers

“Life” Characters: Bug

“Hideous Creatures” Characters: Starship Rangers and Bugs

“Kick It Up A Notch” Characters: Pincer, The Mosquitoes, and Bug

“Status Quo” Characters: Bug

Act II

“The Way I Do” Characters: Tootsie Noodles, Mega-Girl, February, and Bug

“Beauty” Characters: Roach and Bugs

“Kick It Up A Notch (Reprise)” Characters: Junior

“Beauty” Characters: Company

Notable Notes:

This production won the 2011 “Best New Work” award from BroadwayWorld’s Chicago theatre awards

Starship is Starkid’s first show that they produced independently from the University of Michigan! The show opened in Chicago, where the following few shows were produced before a majority of the most active members moved to Los Angeles prior to The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, which opened in 2018

StarKid had their own short segment on MTV that highlighted certain aspects of the production such as Criss’ music and the puppetry (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UlnIXIGrjVg). At that point in time, Darren Criss was already a television favorite due to his role as Blaine Anderson on Glee, who joined the cast during its second season

The show’s cast album debuted at number one on Billboard’s Top Cast Albums within three days of its release and at the 134th spot during that week’s Billboard’s Top 200 chart (x)

The opening sequence features cameos from other StarKid members such as Chris Allen, Tyler Brunsman, Richard Campbell, Britney Coleman, Arielle Goldman, Devin Lytle, Lily Marks, Nicholas Joseph Strauss-Matathia, and Brian Rosenthal.The same sequence was narrated by actor Bob Joles (AKA Man Ray in Spongebob Squarepants)

***Fun Facts provided by Abby:

Nick and Dylan think the worst StarKid song is ‘Hideous Creatures’

During a rehearsal, Joey told Nick that he thought the choreography for ‘Beauty’ was boring. Then Nick asked him, “Do you want to choreograph the number?" and then walked out of the room.

There was a theoretical sequel to Starship in which Taz and Up arrest Spaceclaw but get injured by an explosion. Up ends up in the hospital because of his injuries, and while Taz waits for him to heal, she has flashbacks of when they first met and the missions they went on together (Taz’s quinceañera, etc.)

Lauren: I'd like to imagine that Taz has that same hairstyle just in a big quinceañera dress

Once during rehearsal, they were all in a bad mood during ‘Beauty’. Darren wanted to surprise the cast with a visit, so he burst into the theatre singing the song and was just met by silence

At LeakyCon 2014 on Orlando, StarKid were invited as guests and performed a staged reading of a one-act sequel to Starship called Starship: Requiem.

Official synopsis: The story follows the adventures of Mega-Girl the robot and her half-witted Starship Ranger husband. The newlyweds are sucked into a black hole of trouble when they go to visit Mega-Girl’s human-hating family, including her overbearing mother-unit, her jealous sister-unit and the return of her hunky ex-boyfriend-unit. (x)

Cultural Context: 2011

The production’s MTV segment aired a little over a week after Glee’s “Original Song” episode, which featured Kurt and Blaine’s long-awaited first kiss [rip Pavarotti]

Prince William and Kate Middleton get married

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 premieres on July 15th

Beyoncé announces her pregnancy during her performance at the MTV Video Music Awards

“Friday” by Rebecca Black gets released in March

In early May, President Obama announces that Osama bin Laden was killed by U.S. forces

New York becomes the sixth state to legalize same-sex marriage on June 24th

The 9/11 Memorial Museum opens to the public on the tenth anniversary of the attacks

Content Analysis:

During my time on social media, I have found that Starship is one of the StarKid shows that gets discussed the least. Up until the show’s debut in StarKid’s history, the only shows they’ve done were AVPM and AVPS, both major viral hits, and MAMD, which reached popularity partly because it was released after StarKid became known for AVPM. Coming off of their great and unexpected successes with these productions, one would think that there would be a bigger fandom for Starship. It’s their second show that is based on original content rather than being a parody, and the production quality is the strongest in their repertoire, considering the funds they gained from their album sales for MAMD and their growing merchandise sales for their Potter musical series.

Personally, it’s one of my favorite StarKid shows because of the production quality and because the performances are so strong. Joey Richter makes a perfect leading man, and seeing how his general abilities as a performer have grown since MAMD has been delightful. His vocal range got stronger and more pronounced and he has a very confident stage presence, especially since Starship was StarKid’s first production independent of the University of Michigan’s monetary assistance and performance space. Lauren Lopez and Dylan Saunders do such an incredible job at playing two completely different characters themselves within the same show. Saunders plays Tootsie Noodles, a lovable idiot with a heart of gold who falls in love with a robot of all things, while also playing Pincer, the villainous instigator of the plot. Lopez has a similar about-face in character portrayal. She plays Buggette, a bug who’s in a helpless one-sided romantic relationship with Bug, and then two seconds later Lopez transforms into Taz, a kickass Latina Starship Ranger with excellent comedic presence and the undisputed leader of the group before Up regains his confidence as commander.

Starship is very unique in that about half of the characters in the show are portrayed by puppets, which themselves are incredibly designed, but unlike other productions that use puppets, they do not detract from the actor’s performance of the character. StarKid did a very good job in ensuring that the puppets are not a gimmick, but rather a compliment, to their individual actor’s portrayal of the character. All actors who play puppet roles do such a great job of vocalizing their character that, despite the design of the puppet not having the ability to change facial features, make the puppets feel so alive that it’s almost like watching a live-action animated movie (the good kind we’ve yet to experience, not the Disney kind). If there is any one thing that Starship represents for the company as a whole, it’s that character creation and embodiment make up the heartblood of the performances. Aside from the vocal performances, the facial expressions and physicality of the performances add so much to the puppetry performances, even when the focus on the character isn’t their physical representation but their dialogue and place in the plot. Regardless of whether or not the recording is emphasizing the puppet itself during a scene, the actor controlling the puppet is using perfect facial expressions and has matching body language with the puppet, which not only helps the actor stay in character, but gives more life to the puppet itself.

While I am eternally grateful that StarKid to this day ensures that their musical productions are put on YouTube for free, there are two very clear downsides that make themselves especially present in the recording. One is that, unlike in live theatre where any audience member can choose who and what to look at onstage at any given time, the camera is the one dictating what each audience member can focus on. Generally speaking, that isn’t too much of a detriment as most of the shots StarKid uses tend to showcase the most important characters during each scene, which any audience member would do if they were to attend a production live, but because StarKid members are so adept at character performance, it really makes me wish that I can look more at the ensemble’s performances during group scenes, or secondary character’s reactions during smaller scenes in which their character may not be the main focus.

Another thing was the general editing style. Though it did not necessarily take away anything from the performance itself or make watching the recording any less enjoyable, there were some editing choices that I felt were too distracting for what the scene called for in the show. For example, when Crayonder mentions to Taz that he thinks that Commander Up has “gone soft” since the injury he sustained in the Robot War, twice does the camera pause on his face and a record scratch and ‘booooo’ track is heard overlaid onto the scene. I understand the comedic nature of that bit in retrospect, but for a viewer, regardless of whether or not they are watching the show for the first time, it’s very distracting and forcibly shifts the audience’s focus on the story and the characters to a one-off joke. For a first-time viewer, that editing choice especially does not have as much impact as it does for a recurring viewer, as at that point in the story, the audience is only just being introduced to the characters and has no personal connection to Up and his backstory, making the effect of the joke less successful. As well, throughout the recording, and during the first act in particular, the show has a lot of quick and experimental cuts in the frame that I feel don’t allow the audience to sit enough with the action and the performance happening onstage, instead making the audience pay more attention to quick facial gestures rather than allowing the audience to take in the performance of an individual actor or an entire scene as a whole. Overall, the editing just reminds me that I am watching this beautifully done live-performance through a screen rather than being there for the performance in person, and lessens the potential impact of the recording as a whole.

Regardless of the editing, Starship still has some of the best character performances and musical numbers in StarKid’s production history. One that really stood out for me during this rewatch was Denise Donovan’s portrayal of February. Her character gets introduced as a classic ditzy character who initially doesn’t have a lot of agency in the story, but through good writing and likable performance, grows into the most sympathetic and dynamic character in the show. Donovan’s performance makes February more human than the trope she represents, and plays off her character so well that her jokes make her more endearing than a throw-away character that’s used just for laughs and a love-interest. Starkid tends to do this with a lot of the trope-y roles that they write for their productions . The writing and the direction have a very unique way of taking seemingly predictable, one-dimensional characters and fleshing them out into entire human beings with backstories and arcs, making their comedic impact all the more enjoyable because the audience genuinely likes them.

[lumiellle]

Aaaa there were so many good prompts on that list, and your writing is just the best!! I had such a hard time choosing ;-; But how does iwaoi and nmbr 64 sound??

Thank you so much for sending this ask! I’m terribly sorry it took me so long! (I took a really weird detour with this one and it went from a purely fluffy drabble to this mess. I feel like it doesn’t even have a lot to do with the prompt oml. Also, this is explicit, so be warned ₍₍ (ง ˙ω˙)ว ⁾⁾) The prompt was “violet bruised eyes”!

future violet

It was Tooru’s idea, as many of their experiments tend to be. 

Hajime has to admit, this one’s not half bad.

Tooru’s on his back, naked, hands tied to the bed, and squirming something fierce. His body is liquid fire under Hajime’s touch, responding to every minuscule twitch of his fingers, to every brush of lips against sweaty skin. Hajime likes being incontrol. Or, the illusion, at least — Tooru’s tied hands are a mere technicality. He finds himself falling prey to Tooru’s keening whines, the fire in his eyes, his body singing. Hajime finds himself giving him exactly what he wants when he wants it, because he’s weak like that, and maybe that’s okay. If anything, it has gotten him no complaints so far. 

“Iwa-chan, please—” Tooru chokes out, hips tipping up to chase after Hajime’s hand, his thigh, anything. Hajime cocks his head to one side, smirking.

“Please what?”

“Get inside me already,” Tooru commands, face flushed. Hajime sees his arms straining against the tie binding his wrists and he’s sure Tooru would have covered his face were he able to. Hajime’s eyes flit to Tooru’s groin, cock leaking precum all over his stomach, and swallows. His mouth is watering. There goes his half-baked plan to make him beg for it — it doesn’t sound all that great of an idea when just one look at him is enough to make Hajime twitch in excitement. If Tooru wants him, looking at him like that, what choice does he really have?

“Hajime,” Tooru moans, voice scratchy and low. He lifts his hips as if to eradicate all remaining doubts about his intentions — a superfluous effort, because Hajime never had any to begin with. They’ve been at it for the better part of an hour, and Tooru has been very vocal about it all.

“Noisy,” Hajime says, bending down to drop wet, openmouthed kisses to Tooru’s chest. Tooru harrumphs, but when Hajime nudges their hips together, finally, he shuts up and lets out a delightful sigh instead.

The slide in is easy. Hajime spent enough time fingering Tooru to last him a lifetime, he thinks. Weren’t it for the fantastic view and the enthusiastic responses, he might have skipped to this part earlier, but working him open with his fingers always makes for a good time. Hajime has made Tooru come from his fingers alone more times than he can count, especially in the beginning stages of their relationship, back when everything felt new and overwhelming. Tooru still asks him to just finger him sometimes, but he can tell that they both need more than that today.

When Hajime pushes all the way inside, he and Tooru both shudder. The bedframe creaks rather harshly, and Hajime realizes Tooru’s yanking at it with his arms.

“You good?”

Tooru looks up athim with wild eyes. “If you don’t move in the next three seconds I’m breaking up with you.”

Hajime barks out a laugh, but it only does so much to mask the surge of arousal shooting through his body.

“So demanding.” Then, he moves.

Hajime pulls out a couple of inches. Before Tooru can open his mouth to tell him to hurry up, he pushes back in, snapping his hips hard and fast. Tooru gives a shout that sets Hajime’s skin alight with shivers, and he keeps going, holding on to Tooru’s hips as he fucks into him. Tooru’s glazed eyes linger on him, his mouth half open and his fingers curling and uncurling above his head.

“Do you like it?” Hajime asks, a nod to the tie.

It takes Tooru a moment to register the question. “I can’t touch you,” he says eventually, sounding conflicted.

Hajime laughs. “And that didn’t occur to you, say, before you suggested I tie you up?”

“Don’t make fun of me! Just, do something about it,” Tooru orders, lifting his head up off the pillows. Hajime has no objections to that.

Letting go of Tooru’s hips, he slides up on the bed, hips pumping, and props himself up on his elbows, their lips just in kissing range. Tooru wastes no time, pushing up to meld them together. There’s no patience in his kiss; it’s hungry, devouring, and he swallows up the moan Hajime lets out, making Hajime realize once more that it’s really Tooru who’s in control here. If he asked Hajime to jump out of the window right now, he is only half sure he’d even question him.

“Go harder,” Tooru gasps. Hajime complies.

“Touch me.” Hajime wraps his hand around him.

“Kiss me.” No questions asked.

Hajime pulls out all the stops in his repertoire, and judging by Tooru’s breathless moans, he’s doing a pretty good job of it. It’s affecting him, too. There’s something thrilling about it all, the way Tooru watches him with hazy eyes, telling him what to do. He feels amazing, looks amazing, sounds amazing.

“You’re so good,” Tooru gasps, “so good, Hajime, oh—”

His arm muscles ripple visibly as he screws his eyes shut and yanks on the tie again, and if he weren’t so far gone already, Hajime would have played around with the idea of cutting him loose after all. But there’s no room for thought or action. Hajime feels it coming before he can gather the presence of mind to do anything about it. His balls begin to tighten in that telltale sort of way, and Tooru cries out his name just so — and then, before he knows it, three things happen at the same time.

Tooru comes explosively, warbling out a mess of unintelligible nonsense as he spills all over his own chest.

The tie around his wrists rips with a satisfying thwack—

And a fist collides with Hajime’s face, hard.

For a moment, Hajime’s vision goes black. Then he lets out a yelp of pain, hands flying up belatedly to shield his pulsing eye. His hips screech to a halt, and he faintly registers Tooru scrambling out from under him, hands fluttering along his forearms.

“Shit,” Tooru curses, “Iwa-chan, are you okay?”

Hajime winces, shaking his head in disbelief. “You fucking punched me in the face,” he says, dumbfounded. “You fucking ripped the tie. What the fuck. Ow!” 

Tooru wails. “I didn’t mean to! I swear! I just, I felt so good, and then all of a sudden — I couldn’t control it! Iwa-chan, I’m so sorry! Let me take a look?”

Hajime reluctantly drops his hand, squinting at his distraught boyfriend. His entire face feels like it’ll be swollen in the morning, but his left eye in particular? Absolutely obliterated. Is it still there? Will he go blind? Was Tooru hiding a weird sort of orgasm-triggered superpower from him all this time? Questions only the gods know the answers to. He glances at the scraps of red fabric lining the pillows and swallows as a weird tingling sensation goes through his lower half. He knew Tooru was strong, but that strong? Fucking hell.

“Fuck, Tooru,” Hajime says again. “I’m never tying you up again.”

Tooru’s still carefully inspecting his face, but he ducks his head when he feels Hajime’s eyes on him. “Sorry, Iwa-chan. I’ll get you something to ice that before it bruises.”

He scuttles off, only to return two minutes later with a bag of frozen peas in hand. At least he has the decency to look appropriately sorry to match his words, and Hajime’s initial irritation dissolves into muted amusement. Of course something like this would happen. When has anything ever gone according to plan when Tooru was involved?

“Come here,” he says, opening his arms. Tooru offers a little smile and settles down again, gently holding the peas to Hajime’s battered eye.

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” he says again, pressing a tiny kiss to Hajime’s cheek. “But take it as a compliment?”

Hajime laughs. “You’ve got nerves, Tooru. But you’ve got a point.”

“See? Iwa-chan is such a good boyfriend. The best. Oh, and sorry about that, I guess?” Tooru gestures at Hajime’s crotch. He’s still half hard, which borders on a fucking miracle. A cheeky grin appears on Tooru’s lips. “You want me to do something about that? Reliable sources tell me I’m amazing at giving head.”

Hajime glances at the shredded tie again, then at the set of Tooru’s teasing mouth, blood rushing south. Well, he thinks. Even if he wakes up with a bruise tomorrow morning, this could’ve gone a lot worse.

[tevotbegotnaught]

Dubov's Last Jump-off

**********************************************************************

I pressed the phone against my cheek.

“I can do those dates. The downtown one? Near Wall Street?"

"No" he said, "it’s in Soho. I’ll give you the address later." For an agent, Mo Bedbug was pretty relaxed.

"They’re having a rehearsal at seven. Could you do that?"

"Tonite at seven?"

"Yes. Tonite. Can you make that?"

I walked Fulton street to Chinatown while he slalomed through the details so far: money, dates, times and now, rehearsal.

"Seven tonite is good."

"Great. That’s great. Uh, listen, one of the girls…. there’s two girls… singers. I told you that. Uh, one of the singers I told you about..."

Relaxed and a bit spacey, too.

“Right?"

"She’s Harry Dubov’s girlfriend"

Dubov, a powerful, wealthy man, accused by dozens of women of violent sexual assaults, rapes and subsequent intimidation, was free on bond, pending trial.

"You gonna have problem with that?"

I didn’t hesitate.

"Who’s paying me, him or you?"

"Well, he’s paying me and I’ll pay the musicians. I worked with him before. He’s a real asshole, but he pays. You’ll definitely get your money.”

Now, Mo Bedbug really sounded like an agent.

On my right, the Manhattan Bridge tilted into view.

"I’m good for the gig. I can make the rehearsal. Is there a book or something? Specific instruments?"

"No book. Bring saxophone, of course. If you play flute, you do play flute? I thought so. I think flute would sound good on some of the songs."

Definitely an agent…

**********************************************************************

The rehearsal space was just off Times Square. Not quite an undisclosed location. Three flights of steps, steep and narrow, led to reception. There were often so many familiar faces, you automatically asked folks who they were rehearsing with. I used Mo’s name and quickly found my colleagues. We laughed about the absurdity of the gig and agreed Dubov wasn’t going to come to a crowded midtown rehearsal space. Just before 7, Mo came in, paid the rent and bought bottled water for us. He waited at the desk while we went to the room.

While we were setting up, two women pushed past the racked music stands to introduce themselves, enthusiastically shaking our hands. Margherita was short and lean. I figured she was mid-twenties, Karolina, maybe mid-thirties, more solid.

"Did you get the set list?"

"No"

"Mo said he was sending it to everyone."

"He mentioned..."

"We’ve been rehearsing a set."

"You have arrangements?"

They handed out sheaves of paper copied from fakebooks.

"No. You guys can just follow us. You know all the songs, right?"

"We didn’t get that list, so.."

The door opened. Harry Dubov leaned into the room, poking a shiny black cane in front. The women rushed to him. They took positions at his sides and he shuffled past, walking as if led invisibly by the nose, offering a hand to us in turn.

"Harry, nice to meet you."

"Harry"

"I’m Harry."

Singers spotting him, he used the cane to carefully leverage his backside into a chair. Behind Dubov, a woman in a black unitard carried his folded-up walker and a couple of water bottles. She was older than the singers and very muscular. Taking a seat to his right, posture immaculate, she scanned the room with a mannequin face. I definitely hadn’t expected Dubov. The tableau was pure Fellini. We waited for him to speak. He searched his jacket and retrieved a phone, holding it at eye level to stroke the screen. Not looking up, he asked,

"Where’s Mo?"

Both singers answered.

"He’s coming" "He’s downstairs"

Dubov snorted, "Tell him to hurry up"

Before they moved, Mo arrived and handed around the set list. It started with "Uptown Funk" , then "Billy Jean", "Natural Woman" "Too Darn Hot" and "Bad". Further down on the paper: “ Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy", “That's Amore", “Mambo Italiano". We were functionally a wedding band. Dubov, who regularly worked with the most accomplished people in entertainment and collected piles of money and honors was apparently booking Leonard’s of Great Neck.

Karolina was an actual singer with repertoire and poise. Margherita didn’t sing anything on her own, but sometimes added unisons with Karolina. While we wrote out the complex cuts in their arrangements, Unitard lady conferred with Dubov. Mo swiveled toward us and motioned me in. "Margherita is dancing on ‘Too Darn Hot’."

Unitard lady was a dancer. Immediately, she took command in her French accent.

"Zere’s spee-see-fic parts for zee horns. Eets by Eh-la Feetz-gerald . (She emphasized the first syllable of both names)."

"You know zees?"

Margherita played the arrangement on her phone: great call and response saxophone lines and sassy brass shouts played by an ace studio band.

"Where should we start?" Karolina asked.

"Horns gotta learn those parts first." I said.

Mo chortled "I’m not worried about that. Lets not waste everyone’s time now. You’ll have it next time"

Dubov looked up from his phone.

"Zey need time to lairn it." Mlle told him.

"Ok. Then let’s move on. What’s next?"

We went through "Bad". I played the parts I could remember, paying attention to the trumpet, but there were plenty of gaps. Dubov complimented the drummer (he was super crisp throughout). He addressed the horns, italicizing each word:

"You guys, it’s the craziest thing. Here I am listening to Michael Jackson and..." his voice suddenly loud and high "..all of a sudden JAZZ BREAKS OUT! Where the HELL did that come from?"

My trumpet colleague, exceptionally knowledgeable, argued that we played only original parts.

"I’ve listened to that song probably a million times. Never heard any of that. But what do I know?’

Dubov shrugged and laughed.

Then, Dubov spoke to the singers, cadence slow and uninflected.

"You’re doing the song the way Michael Jackson did it. You’re not gonna do it better than him. Do it YOUR way. Own the song. Blow it out. Totally make it yours."

He rotated his head above the cane and grimaced. The girls fidgeted in place, bobbing their heads, tugging mic wires away from their sides.

"Where should we start?" Karolina said.

The pianist sang a line and gave them a note. They scanned their lyric sheets and started singing. We stumbled in behind them. The women gyrating in front of him, Duboff leaned out over his cane, eyes rolling up. After a minute of singing, the ladies turned around and looked at us while we flailed away. Pianist cut us off.

"We’ll work on the ending tomorrow. You’re gonna rehearse tomorrow?" Dubov’s voice was crisp now.

Margherita looked at Dubov. "Yeeeeah. We haven’t set a time but were gonna do it for sure"

By “That’s Amore", we were four hours on the clock. The singers were elbow-deep in their lyric sheets, figuring out the cuts for the Italian medley. I started out playing pads under their vocal. It seemed pointless, so I stopped and didn’t play a note for more than a half-hour. Eventually I looked up. Four feet away, Dubov, face porcine, eyes dim, fixed on me. He tapped Mo's shoulder. The two men spoke mouth to ear like lovers. Next time the music stopped, Mo leaned toward me, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand. “Harry wants to know why you’re just sitting there. I told him you guys don’t have parts because you didn’t know which songs we were working on, right? Can you just make something up that works for now. He’s wondering what he's paying you for.”

The singers looked at us, unsure if they should start.

“Go ahead. We're done talking.” I said.

Mo interrupted. “We all think the band needs time to make real arrangements with the correct parts, especially for the horns. Not their fault, of course"

Pianist was the guy for this. He’d produced or MD'ed many high-level gigs. Sondheim himself was moved to tears by one of his arrangements. Out of earshot, Pianist negotiated a price and promised parts for the whole show by the next day, a feat since it was already 11:30 PM.

Musically we made little progress that first night, agreeing to meet the next evening. When we wrapped up, Dubov and Mo were optimistic . Getting Dubov out of his chair took a minute.

“A piece of advice for you guys" he said, wincing, “don’t ever get three back surgeries in row. It's no f***king fun"

When we finally left the studio, everyone talked at once. I always fear the axe in these situations. Rich folks just don’t get us and explaining usually sounds like excuses or incompetence. My trumpet colleague had experience with Dubov. “He doesn’t know music, but he knows right away when someone is bulls**ing.”

The next night, the singers greeted us with hugs. Margherita reported “I took four voice lessons today and did yoga, then we rehearsed”

“Sounds like a good day. Where'd you go for those lessons?”

“The teachers came to me"

I added up the cost of those in-house lessons. Nice work if you can get it…

Dubov and Mademoiselle came late. The walker idled outside and Mlle ceremoniously ferried his cane.

With written parts, the patchwork medleys were easier to follow. We didn’t need to stay late. After a couple run-throughs we started packing up.

“Harry, what should we wear?”

“Black. Black suits. All black. I mean, you’re all gangsters, right?” Dubov laughed, mostly to himself. “Hey” he called to Pianist “ you’re Israeli, right?”

Pianist answered quietly.

“You guys are f***kin gangsters, right? Israelis? C'mon! All Israelis are f**kin gangsters.” He got a big kick out of saying this to the two gentle Israelis in the band. Some of us knowing he’d paid former Mossad agents to surveil journalists and his victims.

On the way out, I asked Mo about payment. Had I sent my info to Dubov’s people? Did I have a PayPal? They were doing PayPal. Invoice them all your info. I reminded him that he was paying me directly. “I don’t think I said that. He has an accounting department. They take care of that stuff.”

*********************************************************************

Next “Two for the Show" or “Don’t Rain on My Charade”

[johnsoedercc]

I wrote this profile of record producer extraordinaire and philanthropist Tommy LiPuma for The Plain Dealer, on the occasion of a Tri-C JazzFest salute to him that coincided with the “Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection” exhibition at the Cleveland Museum of Art.

The Art of Tommy LiPuma

By John Soeder published April 11, 2004, in The Plain Dealer

NEW YORK – Yes, he produced a chart-topping album for Barbra Streisand.

And yes, he also had a hand in Grammy-winning recordings by George Benson, Natalie Cole and Diana Krall.

Running down the mile-long list of his accomplishments as a record producer and music industry executive, however, it’s easy to overlook one of Tommy LiPuma’s most truly remarkable achievements:

He made a Wham! fan out of Miles Davis.

The late, great jazz trumpeter visited LiPuma at home in the 1980s to discuss working together. LiPuma popped a cassette by the George Michael-fronted pop group of “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” fame into the stereo.

Davis “freaked out,” LiPuma says. “He loved it.”

Who knew?

LiPuma recounts the story over lunch at Sistina, his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s not open for lunch, mind you – unless you’re Tommy LiPuma, in which case you and a guest have the dining room all to yourselves on a snowy March afternoon.

Such are the perks when you’re chairman of the world’s largest jazz record company, Verve Music Group. LiPuma, a former Clevelander, has held the title since 1998.

He’ll be back in his hometown this week for the 25th annual Tri-C JazzFest. Benson, Krall, Dr. John, Joe Lovano, Jimmy Scott and others perform Saturday at Playhouse Square’s Allen Theatre in a salute to LiPuma, 67.

“I’m honored,” he says. “On the other hand, it makes you wonder: Are you coming toward the twilight of your career? Frankly, I feel I’m at the top of my game.”

LiPuma co-produced three albums for Davis, starting with 1986’s “Tutu.” It included a cover of “Perfect Way,” originally done by Scritti Politti, another 1980s pop act that LiPuma brought to the attention of Davis.

“He wasn’t what I call a jazz cop,” LiPuma says. “He loved all kinds of music.”

Ditto LiPuma. He wholeheartedly buys into the old Duke Ellington maxim: There are only two kinds of music – the good kind and the other kind.

LiPuma’s latest productions are albums by Al Jarreau and Krall.

Veteran vocalist Jarreau’s “Accentuate the Positive” is due in stores Tuesday, Aug. 3. LiPuma was behind the mixing board for two previous Jarreau releases, “Glow” (1976) and the live double album “Look to the Rainbow” (1977).

“He’s a brilliant producer,” says Jarreau, who performs Friday at the Allen Theatre as part of the JazzFest’s “Silver on Silver” salute to another LiPuma client, hard-bop pianist Horace Silver.

LiPuma has a knack for “knowing artists, knowing what they do, allowing them to do it and then pushing them where he thinks their strengths are — and beyond those strengths,” Jarreau says.

While working on his new album, Jarreau found himself scatting the melody of “Groovin’ High,” a Charlie Parker-Dizzy Gillespie chestnut: “Duh-dut, duh-dut-dut, bah-doo-bee-ooh-bee-ooh-duh-dut’ll-doo-day.…”

LiPuma’s ears pricked up. “Is there a lyric, Al?” he asked.

“Well, I’ve thought about doing a lyric for it,” Jarreau replied.

LiPuma encouraged him to go for it.

Jarreau did. The finished track turned out to be “one of my best efforts,” he says.

Krall’s new album, “The Girl in the Other Room,” comes out Tuesday, April 27. It features six songs co-written by the singer-pianist and her husband, rocker Elvis Costello.

LiPuma co-produced “The Girl in the Other Room” with Krall, whom he refers to as “my baby.” He has overseen seven of her eight albums.

“Tommy is my ears — he can hear things I can’t hear,” Krall said in a 2001 interview with The Plain Dealer. “He loves music, art, beauty and all the meaningful things in life, including really good wine.”

At Sistina, LiPuma orders a bowl of pasta. It arrives perfectly al dente and prepared, per his specifications, with cherry tomatoes. A seafood dish follows in short order.

“This is the branzino,” LiPuma says, digging into the Italian-style sea bass. “Delicious!”

Between sips of espresso in the afterglow of the meal, he’ll gladly tell you about working with ultradiva Streisand on “The Way We Were,” her 1974 No. 1 album: “She knows exactly what she wants.”

Or the truth behind “Weekend in L.A.,” singer-guitarist Benson’s 1977 live album: “It wasn’t really as live as it sounded…. We had to redo the vocals.”

Or the emotional experience of recording the title track of Cole’s 1991 “Unforgettable” album, a virtual duet between the singer and her late father, Nat “King” Cole: “When we did it, it stopped all of us in our tracks.”

Lawyers, accountants running the show

LiPuma lights up when he talks about music. But his mood turns somber when the conversation turns to the music business.

“The sooner corporate America gets out of it, the happier I’m going to be,” he says.

Verve Music Group is the parent company of four record labels: Verve, Impulse!, GRP (which LiPuma ran in the 1990s) and Blue Thumb (where LiPuma worked in the late ’60s and early ’70s with such acts as Dan Hicks and Dave Mason).

In addition to a catalog rich with jazz greats (Ellington, Count Basie, John Coltrane, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday, among others), the company’s current artist roster includes the likes of Krall, Jarreau, Benson, violinist Regina Carter and keyboardist Herbie Hancock.

Verve Music Group is a subsidiary of the world’s leading music company, Universal Music Group, which had revenues of $6 billion in 2003. Universal (itself a division of multinational media conglomerate Vivendi Universal) does not release specific financial data for its subsidiaries.

“The record business used to be basically a group of entrepreneurs … who made gut decisions and ran their own ships,” LiPuma says. “They didn’t have to worry about making their quarter or if Wall Street was going to give them its blessing. They were music people.

"Today, with a few exceptions, you have lawyers and accountants running the show. It’s very unfortunate.”

LiPuma has delegated the day-to-day responsibilities (read: headaches) of running Verve Music Group to his second-in-command, President and CEO Ron Goldstein.

“I handle the creative aspects,” LiPuma says. “When you make records, all you want is the right performance…. As a producer, everything is about waiting for the moment when the artist drops a magic take. One of the most important parts of my job is knowing when the moment happens.”

Magic has struck in the studio time and again for LiPuma, who has made more than 20 gold, platinum or multiplatinum records. He also has won three Grammy Awards: Record of the Year in 1976 for Benson’s smash “This Masquerade,” Album of the Year in 1991 for Cole’s “Unforgettable” and Best Jazz Vocal Album in 2002 for Krall’s “Live in Paris.”

The way he was: Cleveland roots

Born in Cleveland to Italian immigrants, LiPuma was the youngest of five children. His brothers, Joe and Henry, and sister Therese still live in the area; another sister, Josephine, died in 1984.

LiPuma’s family moved often when he was young, from Cleveland’s Kinsman neighborhood to University Heights to Warrensville Heights to Beachwood.

“The radio was always on in our house,” LiPuma says. “In those days, it was Bing Crosby, the Andrews Sisters, Jo Stafford.

"Some way or another, I ended up where I ended up. But I’m a pop junkie. I love great pop music.

"By the time I was 18, I loved bebop — Charlie Parker, Horace Silver, all those guys. But it didn’t take away from my love for pop music.”

When he was 9, LiPuma developed osteomyelitis, a debilitating bone infection. He spent nearly three years laid up in bed.

“The radio became my friend,” he says. “I discovered the R&B station in those days, WJMO, and I started hearing Charles Brown, Louis Jordan, Nat Cole and Ruth Brown. I was a complete R&B nut by the time I was 12.

"Then I started playing saxophone…. I’ll never forget: The music teacher at Shaker Heights Junior High School gave me an F in music because I didn’t show up for a concert.”

LiPuma dropped out of school when he was 18, although he only made it through 10th grade. His illness had left him two grades behind his friends. “I felt out of place,” he says.

By then, he was earning $25 a night playing sax in local clubs.

His father, a barber, sent LiPuma to barber college and gave him a loan to buy a barbershop in the Keith Building on Euclid Avenue in Cleveland. Among his customers were various radio disc jockeys, including future “American Top 40” host Casey Kasem, who used to work at the old WJW AM/850.

But LiPuma’s heart wasn’t into cutting hair. He leased the shop, packed his sax and hit the road for a year with a jazz combo.

Upon his return to Cleveland in 1960, LiPuma got a job as a record promoter with M.S. Distributors.

The following year, he was hired to do promotion for Liberty Records. He later transferred to the company’s music publishing division. LiPuma primarily was based in Los Angeles, although he briefly lived in New York in 1962 and relocated there permanently in 1984.

The first album he produced was “Comin’ Through,” the 1965 debut by an R&B group from Canton — the O’Jays.

Making hits, taking hits

He scored his first gold record one year later with the Sandpipers. The easy-listening trio’s Top 10 single “Guantanamera” was produced by LiPuma, who also recited the spoken-word bit in the middle of the tune: “I am a truthful man from the land of the palm trees… .”

He went on to work as a producer and A&R (artists and repertoire) executive for several other record companies, including A&M, Warner Bros. and Elektra. Along the way, LiPuma collaborated with a range of artists, from Dr. John to Michael Franks to Joe Sample.

Somebody once asked LiPuma how it felt to be the father of smooth jazz. He was mortified.

“I detest — de-test! — smooth jazz,” he says. “Shall I call it the height of mediocrity? Everything has become so predictable.

"The jazz community can blame itself for what ultimately ended up happening with jazz. Basically, it has gone nowhere.”

Some jazz purists blame LiPuma for his pop-savvy meddling — at least to hear him tell it.

“Critics like Gary Giddins hate my [expletive] guts,” LiPuma says. “They think I’m the Antichrist. [Giddins] referred to me as a hack.”

Giddins, former jazz critic for The Village Voice and the author of biographies of Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby and Charlie Parker, is widely regarded as a top jazz authority. (Even LiPuma says Giddins is “erudite.”)

Giddins gave his side of the story via e-mail last week.

“I don’t hate Tommy LiPuma’s ‘[expletive] guts,’ ” he wrote. “It is possible that I once referred to him as a hack, but I can’t recall the occasion and a global search of everything on my hard drive, dating back 20 years, turns up only one mention of his name.”

In a review of the 1997 JVC Jazz Festival, Giddins made a passing reference to LiPuma as “the record industry menace who specializes in convincing good musicians to play bad music.”

‘A rare breed’ and ‘a beautiful cat’

Tommy LiPuma — a “menace”? Jarreau scoffs at the notion.

LiPuma is “a rare breed,” Jarreau says. “Maybe a guy like Tommy is too nice for this industry.”

Sax player David Sanborn, on the bill for the JazzFest’s Silver tribute, has cut a couple of albums with LiPuma.

“You can always tell a Tommy LiPuma production,” Sanborn says. “He makes high-class, high-quality records…. He has the ability to make records with broad appeal, too.

"I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with a lot of people liking your music. If you’re doing something you don’t believe in, that’s another story. But I don’t think Tommy has ever done that. . . . He has a real passion for the music.”

LiPuma is “a beautiful cat,” says another music legend from Cleveland, jazz singer Jimmy Scott. His 1992 comeback album, “All the Way,” was produced by LiPuma.

“He knows his stuff,” Scott says. “If you have an idea and you talk it over with him, he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t limit his thoughts about the music.”

LiPuma doesn’t limit his interests to music, either.

Paintings by American Modernists usually fill his Park Avenue apartment, although for the time being, the walls are dotted with empty hooks. “Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection” is on view through Sunday, July 18, at the Cleveland Museum of Art. The exhibition features works by some of LiPuma’s favorite artists (not of the recording variety), including Alfred Maurer, Marsden Hartley and Arnold Friedman.

Gill is LiPuma’s wife of 35 years. They have two grown daughters.

“I love art…. You’ve got structure, form, textures — the same things you have in music,” says LiPuma, recently elected a trustee of the Smithsonian Institution’s Archives of American Art.

“I’d like to be a private [art] dealer,” he says. “I also still enjoy making records. I don’t want to stop…. At this point, the last thing I’m thinking about is retirement.”

[johnsoedercma-blog]

For me, it doesn’t get any better than telling stories about people with a passion for the arts. I wrote this profile of record producer extraordinaire and philanthropist Tommy LiPuma for The Plain Dealer, on the occasion of a Tri-C JazzFest salute to him that coincided with the "Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection" exhibition at the Cleveland Museum of Art.

The Art of Tommy LiPuma

By John Soeder published April 11, 2004, in The Plain Dealer

NEW YORK – Yes, he produced a chart-topping album for Barbra Streisand.

And yes, he also had a hand in Grammy-winning recordings by George Benson, Natalie Cole and Diana Krall.

Running down the mile-long list of his accomplishments as a record producer and music industry executive, however, it’s easy to overlook one of Tommy LiPuma’s most truly remarkable achievements:

He made a Wham! fan out of Miles Davis. 

The late, great jazz trumpeter visited LiPuma at home in the 1980s to discuss working together. LiPuma popped a cassette by the George Michael-fronted pop group of "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" fame into the stereo.

Davis "freaked out," LiPuma says. "He loved it."

Who knew?

LiPuma recounts the story over lunch at Sistina, his favorite Italian restaurant. It’s not open for lunch, mind you – unless you’re Tommy LiPuma, in which case you and a guest have the dining room all to yourselves on a snowy March afternoon.

Such are the perks when you’re chairman of the world’s largest jazz record company, Verve Music Group. LiPuma, a former Clevelander, has held the title since 1998.

He’ll be back in his hometown this week for the 25th annual Tri-C JazzFest. Benson, Krall, Dr. John, Joe Lovano, Jimmy Scott and others perform Saturday at Playhouse Square’s Allen Theatre in a salute to LiPuma, 67.

"I’m honored," he says. "On the other hand, it makes you wonder: Are you coming toward the twilight of your career? Frankly, I feel I’m at the top of my game."

LiPuma co-produced three albums for Davis, starting with 1986’s "Tutu." It included a cover of "Perfect Way," originally done by Scritti Politti, another 1980s pop act that LiPuma brought to the attention of Davis.

"He wasn’t what I call a jazz cop," LiPuma says. "He loved all kinds of music."

Ditto LiPuma. He wholeheartedly buys into the old Duke Ellington maxim: There are only two kinds of music – the good kind and the other kind.

LiPuma’s latest productions are albums by Al Jarreau and Krall.

Veteran vocalist Jarreau’s "Accentuate the Positive" is due in stores Tuesday, Aug. 3. LiPuma was behind the mixing board for two previous Jarreau releases, "Glow" (1976) and the live double album "Look to the Rainbow" (1977).

"He’s a brilliant producer," says Jarreau, who performs Friday at the Allen Theatre as part of the JazzFest’s "Silver on Silver" salute to another LiPuma client, hard-bop pianist Horace Silver.

LiPuma has a knack for "knowing artists, knowing what they do, allowing them to do it and then pushing them where he thinks their strengths are — and beyond those strengths," Jarreau says.

While working on his new album, Jarreau found himself scatting the melody of "Groovin’ High," a Charlie Parker-Dizzy Gillespie chestnut: "Duh-dut, duh-dut-dut, bah-doo-bee-ooh-bee-ooh-duh-dut’ll-doo-day. . . ."

LiPuma’s ears pricked up. "Is there a lyric, Al?" he asked.

"Well, I’ve thought about doing a lyric for it," Jarreau replied.

LiPuma encouraged him to go for it.

Jarreau did. The finished track turned out to be "one of my best efforts," he says.

Krall’s new album, "The Girl in the Other Room," comes out Tuesday, April 27. It features six songs co-written by the singer-pianist and her husband, rocker Elvis Costello.

LiPuma co-produced "The Girl in the Other Room" with Krall, whom he refers to as "my baby." He has overseen seven of her eight albums.

"Tommy is my ears — he can hear things I can’t hear," Krall said in a 2001 interview with The Plain Dealer. "He loves music, art, beauty and all the meaningful things in life, including really good wine."

At Sistina, LiPuma orders a bowl of pasta. It arrives perfectly al dente and prepared, per his specifications, with cherry tomatoes. A seafood dish follows in short order.

"This is the branzino," LiPuma says, digging into the Italian-style sea bass. "Delicious!"

Between sips of espresso in the afterglow of the meal, he’ll gladly tell you about working with ultradiva Streisand on "The Way We Were," her 1974 No. 1 album: "She knows exactly what she wants."

Or the truth behind "Weekend in L.A.," singer-guitarist Benson’s 1977 live album: "It wasn’t really as live as it sounded. . . . We had to redo the vocals."

Or the emotional experience of recording the title track of Cole’s 1991 "Unforgettable" album, a virtual duet between the singer and her late father, Nat "King" Cole: "When we did it, it stopped all of us in our tracks."

Lawyers, accountants running the show

LiPuma lights up when he talks about music. But his mood turns somber when the conversation turns to the music business.

"The sooner corporate America gets out of it, the happier I’m going to be," he says.

Verve Music Group is the parent company of four record labels: Verve, Impulse!, GRP (which LiPuma ran in the 1990s) and Blue Thumb (where LiPuma worked in the late ’60s and early ’70s with such acts as Dan Hicks and Dave Mason).

In addition to a catalog rich with jazz greats (Ellington, Count Basie, John Coltrane, Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday, among others), the company’s current artist roster includes the likes of Krall, Jarreau, Benson, violinist Regina Carter and keyboardist Herbie Hancock.

Verve Music Group is a subsidiary of the world’s leading music company, Universal Music Group, which had revenues of $6 billion in 2003. Universal (itself a division of multinational media conglomerate Vivendi Universal) does not release specific financial data for its subsidiaries.

"The record business used to be basically a group of entrepreneurs . . . who made gut decisions and ran their own ships," LiPuma says. "They didn’t have to worry about making their quarter or if Wall Street was going to give them its blessing. They were music people.

"Today, with a few exceptions, you have lawyers and accountants running the show. It’s very unfortunate."

LiPuma has delegated the day-to-day responsibilities (read: headaches) of running Verve Music Group to his second-in-command, President and CEO Ron Goldstein.

"I handle the creative aspects," LiPuma says. "When you make records, all you want is the right performance. . . . As a producer, everything is about waiting for the moment when the artist drops a magic take. One of the most important parts of my job is knowing when the moment happens."

Magic has struck in the studio time and again for LiPuma, who has made more than 20 gold, platinum or multiplatinum records. He also has won three Grammy Awards: Record of the Year in 1976 for Benson’s smash "This Masquerade," Album of the Year in 1991 for Cole’s "Unforgettable" and Best Jazz Vocal Album in 2002 for Krall’s "Live in Paris."

The way he was: Cleveland roots

Born in Cleveland to Italian immigrants, LiPuma was the youngest of five children. His brothers, Joe and Henry, and sister Therese still live in the area; another sister, Josephine, died in 1984.

LiPuma’s family moved often when he was young, from Cleveland’s Kinsman neighborhood to University Heights to Warrensville Heights to Beachwood.

"The radio was always on in our house," LiPuma says. "In those days, it was Bing Crosby, the Andrews Sisters, Jo Stafford.

"Some way or another, I ended up where I ended up. But I’m a pop junkie. I love great pop music.

"By the time I was 18, I loved bebop — Charlie Parker, Horace Silver, all those guys. But it didn’t take away from my love for pop music."

When he was 9, LiPuma developed osteomyelitis, a debilitating bone infection. He spent nearly three years laid up in bed.

"The radio became my friend," he says. "I discovered the R&B station in those days, WJMO, and I started hearing Charles Brown, Louis Jordan, Nat Cole and Ruth Brown. I was a complete R&B nut by the time I was 12.

"Then I started playing saxophone. . . . I’ll never forget: The music teacher at Shaker Heights Junior High School gave me an F in music because I didn’t show up for a concert."

LiPuma dropped out of school when he was 18, although he only made it through 10th grade. His illness had left him two grades behind his friends. "I felt out of place," he says.

By then, he was earning $25 a night playing sax in local clubs.

His father, a barber, sent LiPuma to barber college and gave him a loan to buy a barbershop in the Keith Building on Euclid Avenue in Cleveland. Among his customers were various radio disc jockeys, including future "American Top 40" host Casey Kasem, who used to work at the old WJW AM/850.

But LiPuma’s heart wasn’t into cutting hair. He leased the shop, packed his sax and hit the road for a year with a jazz combo.

Upon his return to Cleveland in 1960, LiPuma got a job as a record promoter with M.S. Distributors.

The following year, he was hired to do promotion for Liberty Records. He later transferred to the company’s music publishing division. LiPuma primarily was based in Los Angeles, although he briefly lived in New York in 1962 and relocated there permanently in 1984.

The first album he produced was "Comin’ Through," the 1965 debut by an R&B group from Canton — the O’Jays.

Making hits, taking hits

He scored his first gold record one year later with the Sandpipers. The easy-listening trio’s Top 10 single "Guantanamera" was produced by LiPuma, who also recited the spoken-word bit in the middle of the tune: "I am a truthful man from the land of the palm trees. . . ."

He went on to work as a producer and A&R (artists and repertoire) executive for several other record companies, including A&M, Warner Bros. and Elektra. Along the way, LiPuma collaborated with a range of artists, from Dr. John to Michael Franks to Joe Sample.

Somebody once asked LiPuma how it felt to be the father of smooth jazz. He was mortified.

"I detest — de-test! — smooth jazz," he says. "Shall I call it the height of mediocrity? Everything has become so predictable.

"The jazz community can blame itself for what ultimately ended up happening with jazz. Basically, it has gone nowhere."

Some jazz purists blame LiPuma for his pop-savvy meddling — at least to hear him tell it.

"Critics like Gary Giddins hate my [expletive] guts," LiPuma says. "They think I’m the Antichrist. [Giddins] referred to me as a hack."

Giddins, former jazz critic for The Village Voice and the author of biographies of Louis Armstrong, Bing Crosby and Charlie Parker, is widely regarded as a top jazz authority. (Even LiPuma says Giddins is "erudite.")

Giddins gave his side of the story via e-mail last week.

"I don’t hate Tommy LiPuma’s ‘[expletive] guts,’ " he wrote. "It is possible that I once referred to him as a hack, but I can’t recall the occasion and a global search of everything on my hard drive, dating back 20 years, turns up only one mention of his name."

In a review of the 1997 JVC Jazz Festival, Giddins made a passing reference to LiPuma as "the record industry menace who specializes in convincing good musicians to play bad music."

‘A rare breed’ and ‘a beautiful cat’

Tommy LiPuma — a "menace"? Jarreau scoffs at the notion.

LiPuma is "a rare breed," Jarreau says. "Maybe a guy like Tommy is too nice for this industry."

Sax player David Sanborn, on the bill for the JazzFest’s Silver tribute, has cut a couple of albums with LiPuma.

"You can always tell a Tommy LiPuma production," Sanborn says. "He makes high-class, high-quality records. . . . He has the ability to make records with broad appeal, too.

"I don’t think there’s anything intrinsically wrong with a lot of people liking your music. If you’re doing something you don’t believe in, that’s another story. But I don’t think Tommy has ever done that. . . . He has a real passion for the music."

LiPuma is "a beautiful cat," says another music legend from Cleveland, jazz singer Jimmy Scott. His 1992 comeback album, "All the Way," was produced by LiPuma.

"He knows his stuff," Scott says. "If you have an idea and you talk it over with him, he’ll make it happen. He doesn’t limit his thoughts about the music."

LiPuma doesn’t limit his interests to music, either.

Paintings by American Modernists usually fill his Park Avenue apartment, although for the time being, the walls are dotted with empty hooks. "Modern American Masters: Highlights From the Gill and Tommy LiPuma Collection" is on view through Sunday, July 18, at the Cleveland Museum of Art. The exhibition features works by some of LiPuma’s favorite artists (not of the recording variety), including Alfred Maurer, Marsden Hartley and Arnold Friedman.

Gill is LiPuma’s wife of 35 years. They have two grown daughters.

"I love art. . . . You’ve got structure, form, textures — the same things you have in music," says LiPuma, recently elected a trustee of the Smithsonian Institution’s Archives of American Art.

"I’d like to be a private [art] dealer," he says. "I also still enjoy making records. I don’t want to stop. . . . At this point, the last thing I’m thinking about is retirement."

[thesinglesjukebox]

CAMILA CABELLO - SHAMELESS

[5.00]

For us, shamelessness equals... perfectly average?

Joshua Lu: Camila Cabello's abrasive voice, which has doomed many a ballad from her, works on serrated songs like "Shameless." For every line that falls flat ("I need you more than I want to" isn't as desperate as it wants to), there's another line that Camila nails perfectly, like how "write it on my neck" rings as half request, half command, all threat. It's a shame most of the song is a build up to that drop; it's probably reaching for Eilish-level discomfort but instead just sounds like a broken subwoofer. [5]

Kayla Beardslee: Cabello's artistic vision is, thankfully, present -- it's there in the nuances of her vocals (the entire second verse!), the striking visuals, and especially the lyric's vulnerable and occasionally unusual turns of phrase. Almost every part of the song tells us that she cares -- and yet "Shameless," like another recent post-5H release, falls flat, its shortcomings serious enough that some will not even find it good. Of course the lead single for a new pop force like Cabello is not the product of a single pen or producer, but the desperate lust behind this song seems genuine enough on her part. The problem comes with the production, which, unlike the lyrics, sounds watered down into gruel. You -- and feel free to sub in emoji handclaps here -- should not create songs about intensity and vulnerability if the production cannot back up the emotions. Anti-choruses, for example, can be fun, but this is the worst possible place to decide to be too cool for a proper drop -- instead of a proper release of emotions, the plain drums and "uh-uh"s just suck tension out of the track. And on the final chorus, when Cabello's ad-libbing to high heaven and trying her best to get her primal point across, the production remains limp, still insultingly restrained. Where's a pumped-up Max Martin ending when you need it? [6]

Oliver Maier: An abject disaster, as messy as it is tedious. The gesture at Avril-core alt-rock in the hook is diluted by the tepid guitar tone, then yanked away from a proper climax in favour of the most aggressively underwritten drop I've heard all year. The rest of it is the same tired post-Rihanna fare we've been hearing all decade, edgy without an edge, insisting on its own dangerous sensuality without establishing any stakes; it's like a Thank U, Next deep cut being generated in real time. Camila's tiresome over-emoting abounds, but she continues to evade displaying any personality whatsoever. [1]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Camila, I love you for how extra you are, but you hereby have permission to do less. There is so much about this song that I should love -- lyrics telling a story about sexy, dangerous love; production muscular enough to create a palpable atmosphere; a video which fully realises this concept in beautiful cinematic glory -- but I can't fully enjoy it because of all the weird things you're doing with your voice! Drink a bottle of water to sound less hoarse, tone down the Auto-Tune to sound less screechy, and, answer me: are you eating lunch and singing at the same time during the post-chorus? "Screaming my lungs out for you" is a great line, but we don't need you to take it so literally next time! [5]

Alfred Soto: If so many mornings you wake up confused, do you look at Shawn Mendes absorbing your face like a grouper and blame yourself? [4]

Leah Isobel: Something about the phrasing "right now, I'm shameless" doesn't sit right. If the lyric was "oh, now I'm shameless," it might carry some of the shock of stepping outside of yourself and seeing your actions in a different light; "they say I'm shameless" would imply a lack of apology, a devil-may-careitude about one's lack of self-awareness. "Right now" sacrifices both of those emotional states for a weird nether zone where Camila seems to be shameless because she's deciding to be, which sort of goes against the dynamic of shame as an internalized external judgment. Purposeful shamelessness is a good summation of Camila's hammy vocal presence, here and on her other tracks; unfortunately, the lyrics are too bland to really respond to her dramatics. [5]

Michael Hong: The opening guitar creates a sense of urgency that doesn't really let up until the track fully expands on the chorus, when Camila Cabello shouts "right now, I'm shameless." While "Never Be the Same" was a goopy lovestruck anthem worthy of a climactic moment in any teen coming-of-age picture, "Shameless" is more mature -- it's a depiction of passionate hunger where the chorus expands to encapsulate you rather than it needing to explode. In particular, Cabello's processed vocals over the booming beat on the post-chorus are a moment of frenzied desire that feels completely all-consuming. Not only has she found the right sound to make her dramatic storytelling sound high-stakes rather than forced, but the gravelly rasp as she wails "shameless" suggests she's found her voice as well. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: Like Demi Lovato and Christina Aguilera, Camila Cabello is being pop-culturally castigated for the sin of singing out; for too-muchness, vocal and otherwise; for giving infinite fucks in a culture that prefers giving zero. Also like Demi and Christina, she's at times struggled to find repertoire to best suit her; her voice becomes either overblown or underused. "Shameless" is the closest she's gotten, despite being full of problems. Cabello's pulled-taffy voice can do many things -- and indeed, demonstrates on "Shameless" how it can do so very many things -- but tough isn't quite one of them; the lyric pulls the "Not Myself Tonight" punch of only shameless right now; the drop is quick-turnaround knockoff Eilish; the tension, though there, only works if you divorce it from any supposed real-life situation. But it's still more exciting, more emotionally palpable and charged, than half the charts right now. [7]

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