When I first got to New York I took a job working in the Mic Locker at Sony Music Studios. Not a glamorous job at all, trust me. I was doing everything from running coffee to wrapping cables. The pay was horrible. The hours were ridiculous, but none of that mattered to me. See, prior to its closing last year, Sony music studios was the epicenter of the recording music world. It was not considered unlikely for you to pass 5 or six superstars on your way to the bathroom! I don,t mean C or D listers either. I,m talking Mariah Carey, LL cool J, Jennifer Lopez, Jay Z.Shit even the enigmatic Micheal Jackson was known to frequent this bastion of music generation from time to time!So as a hungry young producer, you can imagine how my heart would race just a little at the thought of going to work every morning. I was, after all given the responsibility of waiting hand and foot on the very artist that I wanted so desperately to perform on my tracks. I would stay for sometimes 48 hours straight. I rarely went home. It was to wondrous for me, a veritable candy store of potential, racks and racks of gleaming potential that others only saw in magazines or cd covers was paraded in front of me everyday!The problem of course was that we were expressly forbidden from fraternizing with the artist. Now I am a polite man, but I am aggressive to a fault. There was no way that I was going to be this close to my dream and allow some corporate tie guy to tell me that I couldn't touch it. So I bent the rules. I made friends with the engineers who were recoding the artist. I made friends with the receptionist, Hell, by the 3rd month, I had successfully wooed the president of Sony Music studios who subsequently became my manager! This payed of for me one hot summer evening. Method Man from the Wu tang clan was in to work on his album. I can't remember which album it was, but I remember thinking it was odd that the project was being A&R'd by Bad Boy Executive and Puffy prodigy, Harve Pierre. A very popular engineer/beat hustler at the time, Rich Keller was recording the session. While I was wrapping up my shift he suddenly popped his head out of the room and said" Hey Shawn, You wanna play some beats for Method man tonight?" Of course, you can well imagine that I nearly choked on my own words! This was not however a random request. I had been stalking Rich for sometime about this. When the reality presented itself though, I swear, If I wasn't so young I probably would have had a heart attack on the spot!
So I spent the next couple of hours waiting outside the door of studio A. By then I had summoned my production partner Marshall and we were both elated about the chance that had presented itself. Rich had told us to stay in close proximity because he was going to bring us in during a lull in the action. So we did.
I guess this is a good time to mention my cowboy hat. I have never really been a follower. While it is true that I came from a hip hop production back ground, I was never really all that taken with the hip hop uniform. Not 100% anyways. I liked to find out different things. At the time I thought this Gap commercial i saw was kind of dope. Home boy was wearing jeans and a jean jacket. He Jumped on a car and was taming it like in a radio. I was like shit! Cowboy hat plus hip hop style jeans and fresh white sneakers...thats some new shit!!! So I went out and bought myself a cowboy hat. I wanted to be different. I imagined that after walking around New York City in My Hat and fresh white sneakers that the entire city would envy my new look, and soon the streets of Manhattan would be flush with the Shawn Campbell style!
So, I happened to have it on when the door to studio A opened.
Now, If you,ve never played music for an artist, you will have no idea about how nerve racking it can be. Especially hip hop artist. You have this one moment in time. This snap shot that determines whether or not you will be on an album or not. You try to be casual and act like its no big deal but you are always aware that this meeting could change your life..literally.
You also know that no artist wants this desperate, needy looking producer leering over his shoulder as he listens to tracks. The music business is in love with winners. They love it when you stroll into a room, dripping with arrogance and pompousness. They cannot abide insecurity. It is a weakness that they can smell like so many cancer detecting dogs. I learned this early. So while I was indeed nervous, as the door opened, I reached down into myself and summoned my inner asshole, something the business likes to refer to as swagger.
As We walked into the studio, I could see already that this was not going to be a regular listening session. Studio A was huge. It was more like a grand, sonic cathedral, dedicated to the gods of sound then it was a studio, and it was packed to capacity. Everyone was there. It seemed that no only was every A&R that Defjam ever employed there, every engineer that I had ever worked with there, but everyone I have ever met in my ENTIRE life was in that room! There was Tina Davis. Tina Davis was the vice president of Def Jam at the time but has moved on to sign Chris Brown and make a ton of Money as a manager. There was Harve Pierre, the Head A&R for Puffy and Bad boy entertainment. And then there were groupies. Lots and Lots of groupies. Finally the ring master of this circus, the center of it all, Method man himself was standing in front of the mixing board bobbing his head and silently listening as the music blared from the speakers.
I was not yet in the main control room, but was standing in the entrance way when i observed all of this. I could from my vantage point see that the music was being played by some trembling new producer. He literally shook as he skipped from one track to another. Seeing his discomfort turned on the beast in me. I could smell blood in the water. I already new what was going to happen...It always went down like this. I was going to stride over, put my cd in the deck and push play. The following thing that would happen is predictable. As my wall of sound blared from the speakers, everyones eyes would get big with astonishment..I had seen it happen so many times before. A&Rs would rush over to me, artist would demand more, and I would spend the next couple of hours basking it the glory of it all and pretending that I was humble. That was the routine. In a way, I felt bad for the young fella and his mediocre tracks. I knew that we were getting ready to embarrass him. It always happened like that. I couldnt wait. My hands no longer shook in fear but in anticipation. I wanted in so bad.
Then Rich looks and and summons me in. I stick my chest out and begin to walk into the room. I am faintly aware of the young producer, who is scurrying out, proverbial tail in legs and his head down. As we past, He is not even able to make eye contact with me. I find this to be unfortunate, as I really would like for him to witness what I am about to do. But then an odd thing begins to happen.....
As I walked towards the cd player, an uneasy hush descends across the crowded room. It happens quickly, more like the gasp of an alarmed woman. The din literally stops mid sentence, and I have the vaugue feeling that this is not really a good thing. So I walk to the cd player and push eject. I put my Cd in. By now Method man is looking at me. Just like everyone else is. With this strange expression on his face, something like the cross between a man choking and a man on the verge of tears. Now it is deathly silent. I look back at my production partner, and for some reason that I can not decipher, he has chosen to stay back in the crowd, huddled by the front door. Thats odd, I note to myself, but keep on. As I open my mouth to begin speaking, I notice that everything is wrong. This is not how it usually happens. I felt as if I stumbled into some alternate universe, or that I was the butt of some joke..but no one wants to tell me what it is.
"This is hot" I say, This is some beat you across `the head and shoulders and steal your purse music my nigga!" I say to method man. He nods his head to me but now I can visibly see it. He is laughing between his clenched teeth. His lower lip is quivering and I suddenly became afraid that he was going to burst out laughing right in my face. ! I look around and as if by cue or command, other people are silently giggling too. I began to feel a little panicked. What was so funny? What could possibly be so hilarious? As I turned my head to the front, I caught a reflection of myself that explained it all.
There I was staring back at myself with a huge 10 gallon hat on, leather vest, big jeans and white sneakers. I looked just like a rodeo clown. OMG! I have stumbled into a room full of industry reps, groupies, rappers, and gangters dressed like a clown! THIS AINT HIP HOP!!!!
Aware that I was now aware...some of the people laughed louder. I tried to distract them by pushing play. No body paid attention. As the music poured out of the speakers as it had so many times before. No one listened. They took the occasion of the loud sound to hide behind it and talk about me even more boldly and with more volume!
The final insult came then. Because I was embarrassed, I turned my back and faced the machine, pretending to be looking for tracks. I would play a track for 5 seconds and then, because I just wanted to leave, rush to the next one. after about 6 of these, I looked up to see if perhaps Method man was bobbing his head. I looked for ANY sign of hope in this catastrophic situation. To my dismay he was running out of the room doubled over in laughter!!!! This embolden the ass kissers and sycophants and they erupted in pure, unrestrained ridicule. It was crazy! I played one or two more tracks and then turned to Harve and told him that I was finished. He thanked me and said bring some more tracks by any time I wanted. Yeah right.
So I turned to leave. There was, if I recall, only 30 0r so feet from the cd player to the front door. I lie to you not...I can never remember a longer journey in my life then those 30 feet. It felt like a cross country trip. Something in my head kept asking "are we there yet?" It was my longest mile. As soon as I made it outside I got angry. For the next couple of weeks when I thought about it, I would rail against their lack of imagination, the sheep mentality, how the hood doesnt recognize individualism. Method mans album went on to do poorly and I felt vindicated. Thats what he gets I thought. Thats what he deserves. Well, in hind site, I learned a valuable lesson from the entire thing. Its simple, but stunning in its clarity. It is this.
"When in Rome, Do as the Romans" or more appropriately " What ever you do, don't where a rodeo clown suit to a hip hop session. It will end badly!"
The end
