THE INCONVENIENT ARTISTRY OF PHIL SPECTOR
Phil Spector was a terrible person. No sugarcoating that. In 2009, he was convicted of the murder of Lana Clarkson, and his life story is full of the perpetration of violence, threats, abuse and degradation toward women, his children and most people who came into an extended period of contact with him. It’s easy to take a look at the news of his death on Saturday, call him a monster in the comments somewhere on Facebook and move along with your day.
Phil Spector’s life shouldn’t be that easily shrugged off. Yes, he was a loathsome human and that will forever be his personal legacy. But in doing that, you’re shrugging off his professional legacy and the uncomfortable conversations that arise.
The man was a musical genius, responsible for sounds and songs that are inseparable from popular culture. Songs he co-wrote and produced for the Ronettes like “Baby, I Love You” and “Be My Baby” are, with no exaggeration, perfect. He co-created “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’” and “Unchained Melody” with the Righteous Brothers. The Beatles’ inspirational “Let it Be,” was produced by him and he went on to create a gorgeous soundscape for George Harrison’s
brilliant “All Things Must Pass” and John Lennon’s first four solo records.
If you’re a fan of the movies “Top Gun,” “Dirty Dancing” and/or “Ghost,” you’ve engaged with his work. If you’ve sung along to Lennon’s “Imagine” or marveled at the stunning glory of Ike and Tina Turner’s “River Deep – Mountain High,” you’ve given your approval to his efforts. If you’ve ever wondered just what helped inspire Brian Wilson’s arrangements on the Beach Boys’ masterpiece “Pet Sounds” or why Bruce Springsteen layered so many guitar and piano parts on “Born to Run,” you’ve considered the influence of Spector and his vaunted Wall of Sound production.
Since Spector was a producer and arranger, not the name on the front of the album cover or the artist you search for on Spotify, it’s easy to minimize his role in the music we consume, even if he was the driving presence behind its creation. In having that luxury, we are able to avoid that difficult conversation of separating art from the deeply
troubled artists who create it.
Whether it’s watching something with Louis CK or Kevin Spacey, seeing Harvey Weinstein’s name on the credits of your favorite movie, reading a book by Sherman Alexie or looking at your copy of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” consumers are increasingly faced with an ethical choice: Is it still OK to enjoy a project from someone who’s work we love, even if we know they’re personally loathsome?
I don’t know the answer to that. I know I make equivocations for some folks with unsavory moments in their past, but not others. I don’t mind throwing on “The Chronic” by Dr. Dre, but I blanche at revisiting my Morrissey and Ryan Adams records. I’ll gladly read Hunter S. Thompson or Norman Mailer, but my eye starts twitching when I think of JK Rowling. I don’t think I’m right for my choices, and it doesn’t mean the choices others make are wrong, even if I vociferously disagree with and want to judge them. Admitting that is a bitter pill to swallow, but our cultural discourse would be a lot
less aggrieved if we just accepted that uncomfortable fact.
This brings us back to Phil Spector. The stories of his drugged-out, pistol totin’ recording sessions with Lennon, Leonard Cohen and the Ramones in the ‘70s are part of classic popand-rock lore and add to his mythos as a mad genius. His horrific abuse of ex-wife Ronnie Spector and countless other women, and the shooting death of Clarkson tell the story of a maniac that was controlling, sadistic and deeply disturbed.
In the wake of Phil Spector’s
death, there will be few (if any) tributes. And truthfully, there shouldn’t be. But it is worth acknowledging and considering his contributions to music. They were substantial.
We have to be able to consider the full spectrum of an artist, the good and the bad. That way, we can make sense of that individual or group. But whatever that final consideration is, it says even more about ourselves and how we reconcile people capable of both creating great beauty and committing personal atrocities.