This story was originally published on July 10, 1980, in “Rolling Stone.”
Contrary to stories appearing in the trades, Arista Records President Clive Davis isn’t planning to make movie stars out of Barry Manilow, Patti Smith, or the Grateful Dead. He has, however, entered the film business. In partnership with Arista and its co-owner, Ariola-Eurodisc, Davis has signed a three-picture, three-year development and production deal with 20th Century Fox.
“I’ve not gotten into film as an extension of the recording careers of Arista artists,” says Davis, sitting in his office. “Nor will I make rock & roll films. I’m a great believer in the script having to hold up and be meaningful.”
Still, Davis is also a great believer in mixing music and movies, which is one of the reasons he’s got a deal. (Davis notes that his first film-production offer came on the heels of Robert Stigwood’s success with Saturday Night Fever.) As Sherry Lansing, president of 20th Century Fox, has said: “I know he is committed to developing innovative ways of integrating motion pictures and contemporary music.”
As for his music-business interests, Davis is doing well. Arista Records, which he founded only five years ago, is right up there with the major labels. According to Record World, based on its 1979 album charts, Arista Records placed fourth, virtually tied with A&M and trailing only Warner Bros. and Columbia Records, the company Davis used to run. Not bad for a label with only 60-some acts on its roster — which, Davis is quick to point out, “is about 20 percent the size of Warners or Columbia.” It is a select list of artists, however, that includes the likes of Barry Manilow, Graham Parker, Patti Smith, the Kinks, Dionne Warwick, the Grateful Dead, Melissa Manchester, and Aretha Franklin, who recently jumped to Arista after more than a decade with Atlantic Records.
Davis has always been a high-profile record executive, both in the industry and with his artists. At CBS, he made news by signing such acts as Janis Joplin (with Big Brother and the Holding Company), Chicago, Boz Scaggs, Billy Joel, and Laura Nyro, and by his high-priced snaring of Neil Diamond. At Arista, he admits to playing a role in the makeover of Melissa Manchester from frizzy-haired singer-songwriter to sleek club performer, and claims a larger responsibility for putting Dionne Warwick back on the charts. When the singer signed with Arista, she hadn’t been under contract for more than a year. “I put her with Barry Manilow [as producer],” says Davis. “I found ‘I’ll Never Love This Way Again’ and matched it with Barry.” Davis says he is also involved in selecting and editing the singles of certain artists.
All of which is just the kind of involvement he expects to have with his latest catch, Aretha Franklin. “She was unhappy at Atlantic,” says Davis. “She missed having a creative relationship, since she’d worked so closely with [producer-Atlantic executive] Jerry Wexler. She wanted someone she could confer with in terms of material and producers.”
Davis has never been humble about his success as a record executive and repeats, seemingly by rote, the high points of his career. And when asked about the controversy that has surrounded his professional life, he responds without reference to the low point: his ouster seven years ago as president of CBS Records on charges of misusing company funds. He was ultimately cleared of those charges, and even CBS has come around to acknowledging his contributions. At a recent award presentation, Columbia Records President Bruce Lundvall called him “the cornerstone on which CBS Records was built.” Still, Davis has never been back to his old offices in the CBS “Black Rock” building.
If he is controversial, says Davis, it’s because he’s “a spokesman for the industry. I do take positions on controversial issues.” He feels, for example, that the record industry’s financial slump of 1979 resulted from slipshod management and not from any loss in consumer interest. “I named names,” he says, “and said that these people are afraid for their jobs, that they’re excusing bad performance and trying to take the industry down with them.”
While at CBS, Davis — a former lawyer turned executive talent scout — also became a target for critics of high-priced bidding for rock acts. “The largest deal I ever signed was Neil Diamond, when I matched Warner Bros. at $400,000 an album in 1972,” he argues. Sure, he caught flak for signing Pink Floyd at $300,000, but then “they erupted and sold 5 million copies. It’s different from a banking deal, like with the Beatles and the Who after they’ve become worldwide names.”
Just what kind of profile Davis carves out for himself in the film business remains to be seen. As for the operation of the as-yet-unnamed company, he says he’ll run it and will be executive producer of all its movies, while placing day-to-day responsibilities in other hands. One film is already in the talking stage.
And perhaps in the not-too-distant future, Clive Davis will say of his movies — as he does of his work in the record industry — “Those are my songs. That’s what you go by.”
