Monday, 1 October 2007

Feature: Lee Hazlewood Obituary (JMag)

LEAVING SUGAR TOWN


From the 109th floor of The Stratosphere the view of Las Vegas is overwhelming. The city spreads across the desert valley, hemmed in by mountains, glittering and sparkling with the promises of glamour and wealth that lure forty million people a year to this oversized fun park. Out there in the shadows, however, in the darker suburbs beyond the airport, was where you’d have found Lee Hazlewood. It was where he and I, as his manager, would sit discussing plans while he refused to give in to the kidney cancer that was slowly killing him. Almost to the end we would sit in his lounge, the TV volume normally up, discussing reissue strategies, the possible DVD release of films he made in Sweden in the 1970s, the book he wanted me to write with him – entitled Famous People I Have Met, Most of Whom Are Dead, But It Wasn’t My Fault – and more importantly laughing about the extraordinary life he’d led.

Lee loved life, but this didn’t make him afraid of death. In fact, there was little that Lee was afraid of. Throughout his career he’d done things exactly as he wanted and had few regrets. He had a fearsome reputation as a difficult man to get along with, but for some reason he took me into his world and revealed a heart as big as the tumbleweed wastelands that his songs sometimes inhabited.

When he died on August 4th 2007 it’s unlikely he would have expected the rush of tributes from the world’s media, musicians and a legion of fans that spanned generations. Throughout his career the gravel-voiced moustachioed maverick largely avoided the limelight, which is why even now his name may be unfamiliar. But he helped invent pop music as we know it, and it’s typical of life that it is only in death that he is being recognised for his achievements.

Had Hazlewood not hooked up with Nancy Sinatra and scored global hits as the subversive writer and producer of songs like ‘These Boots Were Made For Walking’ (“sing it like a 14 year old who goes with truck drivers” he allegedly told her), ‘Some Velvet Morning’ (the most unlikely and erotic song ever to make the US Top 40) and ‘Sugartown’ (about kids dosing lumps of sugar with acid), he would still have earned a significant entry in the history books. But Hazlewood wasn’t interested in fame. He’d actually ‘retired’ in the mid 1960s citing the “British Invasion” of the US – led by The Beatles – as the perfect reason to quit and sit by his LA pool, swatting bugs and drinking Chivas Regal.

He’d reckoned without his neighbour Jimmy Bowen, however, a Reprise Records bigwig who invited Lee out for dinner one evening. The meal was cooked by Mama Sinatra and, over spaghetti, Frank Sinatra casually thanked Lee for his forthcoming collaboration with Nancy. It was news to Lee, as he loved to remind me. But even he, obstinate as he was, couldn’t say no to “the Chairman of the Board”.

So he agreed to test the water with a single – ‘So Long Babe’ – whose humble success he triumphantly followed with the chart-topping, quasi-feminist anthem ‘Boots’. He continued by producing Frank Sinatra’s unforgettable duet with Nancy, ‘Somethin’ Stupid’, provided Dean Martin with the classic ‘Houston’, and then in 1970, just as he could have cashed in on his growing reputation, disappeared to Sweden. By then he’d released solo records and enjoyed success duetting with Nancy a number of times, even releasing two albums together. But it was time to step away from the bright lights again, and despite releasing a number of low key but tremendous LPs over the next decades his international career was seemingly over.

In the 1990s, though, a new generation started to discover his music. His songs had often been covered by other acts, but what made this different was that now they were from the so-called ‘alternative’ scene. Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley finally turned the growing admiration into a fanfare by persuading him to allow the reissue of a selection of solo albums. Hazlewood at last recognised that he had what he laughingly described as “addicts”. These people religiously tracked down his out of print vinyl albums on which his rumbling whisky-soaked voice delivered uniquely poetic, sentimental and witty lyrics that made his friend, Johnny Cash, seem no more profound than Jessica Simpson (who of course covered ‘Boots’ for the recent Dukes Of Hazzard movie.)

Delighted at the response, he released a collection of demos, For Every Solution There’s A Problem, and toured Europe in its wake. Then, despite being diagnosed with cancer, he headed off to studios around the world to make what he himself declared would be his “last album”, the characteristically eclectic and brilliant Cake Or Death. No one ever got away with telling him what to do and so his swansong features not only the brassy anti-war song ‘Baghdad Knights’ and a string-laden farewell entitled ‘T.O.M. (The Old Man)’, but also a duet with his grand daughter and another song performed by his best friend Tommy Parsons. It was one hell of a way to say goodbye.

Days before Lee’s final birthday we sat together listening to some of his rarest albums. As he recalled songs that he’d not heard for years he turned to me and said, quite simply, almost surprised, “You know what? I quite like me.” At his typically low-key party there was no glitz and the only cameras flashing were those of his friends, but those there are unlikely ever to forget his final performance with Nancy Sinatra, who sat on the arm of his chair as they sang their hit ‘Jackson’ together one last time.

He died peacefully in his darkened lounge on a Saturday evening a few weeks later. Within days, however, the spotlight was once again shining on him. There was nothing more he could do to hide. If you missed him when he was alive, you’re going to miss him even more now he’s gone.

Timeline
9 July 1929: Born in Mannford, Oklahoma
1955: Worked as DJ in Phoenix and set up the Viv label, scoring his first hit as producer a year later with Sanford Clark’s ‘The Fool’
1958: Perfected the “twang” with his friend Duane Eddy, using a grain tank as an echo chamber to create the sound that helped define rock ‘n’ roll. Secured hit after hit after hit
1963: Releases his first solo album, Trouble Is A Lonesome Town, originally recorded as demos for other artists. The N.S.V.I.P.s followed a year later
1966: Teams up with Nancy Sinatra and producers her first global hit, ‘These Boots Were Made For Walking’. Success continues for five more years and sees them record two seminal Nancy & Lee albums
1967: His label LHI releases the first album by influential Cosmic American musician Gram Parsons (with The International Submarine Band)
1970: Moves to Sweden. Releases a number of rare but cult albums and also stars in a number of films
1995: After lengthy retirement teams up again with Nancy Sinatra to tour the US to support release of duets compilation, Fairytales & Fantasies
1999: Sonic Youth’s Steve Shelley reissues a number of classic solo albums. Sells out London’s Royal Festival Hall, his first ever British solo show
2006: Now diagnosed with kidney cancer, releases his final album Cake Or Death
4 August 2007: Dies peacefully at home. The tributes start to arrive
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Feature: Final Lee - Lee Hazlewood Obituary (Uncut)


FINAL LEE



Wyndham Wallace, friend and manager of Lee Hazlewood, pays tribute to the iconic singer, songwriter, label boss and producer who died of cancer on August 4th, 2007

Two days before Lee Hazlewood’s 78th birthday I sat in his lounge with a pile of CDs playing songs to him that he wrote and recorded years ago. Amazingly he’d not heard them for well over a decade. The itinerant lifestyle he’d always led meant he travelled light, and as well as giving away all his gold discs he had no copies of many of the rare albums that these days change hands on Ebay for small fortunes.

He sat in his chair, legs propped up on cushions to ease the pain of his cancer. After a while he twisted his frail body towards me, eyes twinkling, a smile creeping across his face.

“You know what, Bubba?” he said in a voice that still retained its honeyed gravel quality. “I quite like me.”

Just how many people liked Lee Hazlewood as well is only now starting to become clear. Due to his insistence on shunning the spotlight throughout most of his career most people have little understanding of the extraordinary impact his work had on popular culture. Everyone knows 'These Boots Were Made For Walking', the song he wrote and produced for Nancy Sinatra early in a run of tremendously successful singles and albums. Some people know other songs they worked on, like the extraordinary duet 'Some Velvet Morning' and the subversive 'Sugartown' (about LA kids taking acid). But his influence extends way beyond these ambiguously licentious pop hits of the 1960s.

Starting his career as a DJ, Lee was the first to play Elvis in Phoenix, Arizona. As a producer and songwriter he invented the “twang” that his protégés Duane Eddy and Sanford Clark made famous, and he also gave Phil Spector his first studio experience, something Lee humbly denied had any impact on Spector though the early foundations of the Wall of Sound are clearly evident on Lee’s productions of the period. As a record company mogul he produced and released Gram Parsons’ first album as part of the International Submarine Band. And as svengali he shaped Nancy Sinatra’s career, produced Frank and Nancy’s classic Somethin’ Stupid, wrote and produced Dean Martin’s Houston and even recorded a duets album with Ann Margret.

It’s his solo work, however, that won admiration from the likes of Jarvis Cocker, Beck, Nick Cave (for whom Lee performed his first ever British solo show at 1999’s Meltdown Festival), Richard Hawley, Primal Scream and Sonic Youth, whose Steve Shelley persuaded Hazlewood to allow him to reissue rare albums in 1999 that propelled the growing interest in Hazlewood’s career. At last people could again hear Lee’s solo debut, Trouble Is A Lonesome Town, rich in spoken word vignettes and stunning songwriting; Requiem For An Almost Lady, one of the most beautiful but anguished break-up albums of all time; and Cowboy In Sweden, dripping with Hazlewood’s trademark sentiment and dark humour. They’ll all live on, alongside other albums due for reissue later this year, his latest album Cake Or Death – as incisive and eccentric as ever – and the amazing records he made with Nancy.

But I have lost a friend as dear to me as any. I first met Lee in New York after Steve Shelley hired me to work as Lee’s UK publicist. I was so nervous I started smoking again after two years. He called me Bubba, simply because he liked the absurdity of it. Over the next eight years I slowly became more involved with him, largely due to our unlikely but growing friendship. We travelled to his beloved Sweden, all round Europe, and he welcomed me into his home wherever he lived: Ireland, Texas, Las Vegas. He could be a difficult sonofabitch – he fired me late last year, and I only knew I had been reinstated because in an interview a day later he included me in a list of his three best friends – but underneath the fiery, stubborn exterior beat the heart of a man whose generosity to those he loved knew no bounds.

He celebrated his final birthday surrounded by friends and family. Nancy Sinatra sat at his feet as he regaled us with anecdotes, then they danced together and performed Jackson one last time to the assembled guests. He was as stubborn in the face of death as he was in life, but having made his final farewells he started to fade. When I embraced him goodbye on July 14th I knew I wouldn’t see him again. As Lee sang so poignantly, “Sooner or later we all make the little flowers grow.”



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