Tributes will be pouring in today for Clive Davis, the mega music mogul who has passed away at age 94.
Vital til the end, Clive leaves an incredible legacy in the culture of pop music from discovering Janis Joplin at the Monterey Music Festival to working with jazz greats like Miles Davis, putting Santana and Earth Wind & Fire on the map, not to mention successes with Simon & Garfunkel, Bruce Springsteen, and Bob Dylan — to name a few.
Of course, Clive will be remembered for reviving the careers of Aretha Franklin and Dionne Warwick at his Arista Records, where his successes also included Alicia Keys, Rod Stewart singing the classic American songbook, and his first star at that label, Barry Manilow.
My time with Clive personally goes back forty years, just before Whitney Houston took off and just as Carly Simon had her comeback with him with “Coming Around Again.” I used to pop over to his Arista office on West 57th St, where’d be sitting in his cramped office with stacks of cassettes. He played the music LOUD, and you’d have ask to him to turn it down. He would, if he could stop dancing around the room.
The same thing happened to us in 2015, when he summoned me to his offices high above Sony Music to listen to what would be Aretha Franklin’s final record, “Aretha Sings the Great Diva Classics.” We shared a mutual friendship and love of Aretha, and he wanted me to be among the first to hear what he’d made with her. Only Clive, who had the gift of golden ears, would have though to give Aretha the Adele song, “Rolling in the Deep,” which remains an unheralded gem. It was a highlight of our friendship.
Clive was a family man, almost more than my own dad or anyone I’ve ever known. He was devoted to his four children, and many grandchildren, his partner, Greg, their cocker spaniel Charlie, and beloved cousin Jo from San Francisco. He loved his friends enormously, and delighted in having big groups around for holidays, all kinds of events, and especially his Grammy parties. I’d ask, “How many people are coming to dinner tonight, Clive?” You thought he was going to say, “20, 25” but by the time you got there, there was a valet, seating cards, and 100 of his best friends.
And they were. Just since the first of this year, Clive — who was unwell — persevered. In Miami, New York, Westchester. There was the Grammy party in late January, which was itself preceded by a dinner for 120 at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Then he was off to Miami, where there were stories about dinners, and so on, one with the Bee Gees’ Barry Gibb. Back in New York, he took over the private dining room at Le Bernardin, the best restaurant in America, for a 94th birthday party. And then, three weeks ago, a last hurrah seated, catered dinner for Memorial Day at which he pushed his pal, Motown great Valerie Simpson, into singing “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing.” The title meant a lot.
Clive’s last decade was lived like a grand pasha, with lots of love and fun anecdotes. But he wasn’t always a pussycat. You couldn’t be to have had that career. When he saw a fellow entrepreneur, he made a deal. Such was the case with Sean Diddy Combs, now Public Enemy number 1 but back then, just Puffy or Puff Daddy. Overnight, Puffy created a tsunami of hits, which for Clive was like catnip. He didn’t hang with him socially, or get into personal discussions. If you knew Clive, his main passion was presenting gold and platinum records to his artists. With Puffy, for a stretch, that was everything.
You have to realize the depth and range of Clive Davis. In 1974, he signed Barry Manilow — soft pop king — and Patti Smith, the edgiest ever princess of punk. Who else could see the value in each of them? And how they would last 50 years? We went to see Patti this past November at the Beacon Theater. Clive could barely walk, but he wouldn’t miss going backstage. He was overwhelmed. She was in tears. It was a crowning moment.
So much more to say, and remember, about a person who has been so important to so many people. A great life.
