Not long before John Lennon died, he wrote a song about his young son that was part of reassessing his role as a father in his life, “Beautiful Boy.”
Recently, after picking up my six-year-old daughter from school, we were driving home while I was playing John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Double Fantasy album. I remembered when the album came out and also remember how the songs blanketed radio stations after Lennon’s death in December 1980. And as the song “Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy)” played, I began thinking of Lennon’s life around 1980, while also thinking of my own family during the autumn drive home.
Lennon knew that he had not been a great father to his first son, Julian, born in 1963 to Lennon’s first wife Cynthia. At that time, Lennon was in his early 20’s dealing with the growing fame of the Beatles. So when his second son Sean was born to him and Yoko in 1975, Lennon hoped to do better and avoid many of the mistakes he had made with Julian.
Lennon began working on a song with Sean in mind in 1979, and he recorded another demo in 1980 before the studio sessions for the Double Fantasy album. The original demo has appeared in later years, including on The John Lennon Signature Box., but in both versions the song is a love letter from a father to his five-year-old son, made more poignant by John’s life being cut short not long after the recording. The song closes out side one of the original record album. And the lyrics begin with the father comforting the son about an imagined monster.
Close your eyes, Have no fear; The monster’s gone, He’s on the run, And your daddy’s here.
Lennon later explained how Sean remained on his mind throughout the recording of the songs for Double Fantasy. ““I was guilty all through the making of Double Fantasy. We had his picture pinned in the studio because I didn’t want to lose contact with what I’d got. We had the picture up there all the time in between the speakers, so whenever you’re checking the stereo, he was looking at me all the time.”
Paul McCartney has praised the song written by his former writing partner, saying, “I think it’s a beautiful song. It’s very moving to me.” Others have fallen in love with the song, which appeared in a touching scene in the movie Mr. Holland’s Opus (1995), where Mr. Holland, played by Richard Dreyfus, performs the song as his own love letter to two people: his favorite artist John Lennon and his deaf son, Cole.
And so, while listening to “Beautiful Boy” as I drove my daughter home from school, I came on that October Fall day to reflect on Lennon’s life, the love of fathers for their children, the meaning and history behind the lovely song, and the tragic too-short reminder of mortality that took away a father from his son with a flash of a bullet.
And as the song played again after I hit repeat, a little tear began rolling down my cheek. . .
And then I heard a voice. It was coming from the back seat in my six-year-old daughter’s voice, getting louder . . .
In 1985, artists in Cleveland aided by local rock station personnel, came together to record a charity single, “Eyes of the Children.”
I recently heard from a few old friends about singer-songwriter Donnie Iris passing away. My friends Bob, Dom, and I had seen Iris perform in the 1980s. On Cleveland radio back in the day, you could not miss hearing some of Iris’s songs like “Oh, Leah” and “Been Injured in the Game of Love.”
I’ve written before how in those pre-Internet days especially, cities often had artists they claimed pridefully as their own. The artists who may have found limited national success but great local success were often an important part of the community and created some great music that much of the world missed.
Many of the stories about the passing of Donnie Iris lead with descriptions like “Pittsburgh rock icon,” connecting him to Pittsburgh more than to any other place. And on the one hand that makes sense. Much of his regular touring as a solo artist was in western Pennsylvania and northeast Ohio. But Iris, who was born with the name Dominic Ierace on February 28, 1943 , had national hits. With the Jaggerz, he cowrote and sang on the 1970 hit, “The Rapper.” After spending some time with Wild Cherry (after their hit “Play that Funky Music”), he had a solo career as Donnie Iris and The Cruisers.
I recall those solo years especially with “Ah! Leah!” (top 30 song in 1980), “Love is Like a Rock” (top 40 in 1981), and “Injured in the Game of Love” (1985).
I saw Iris open for The Kinks in March 1985 outside Cleveland at Richfield Coliseum. While Pittsburgh and Cleveland have had many sports rivalries through the years, they also are connected in more ways than they differ. They are similar cities who grew with similar industries and suffered similar economic ups and downs. And so, not surprisingly, the Pittsburgh boy Donnie Iris found a large part of his regional success around Cleveland too.
“Eyes of the Children” Charity Single
Thus, in 1985, following the lead of group charity singles like “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” and “We Are the World,” members of the legendary Cleveland rock station WMMS helped put together a group of Cleveland artists to work on the city’s own charity single. WMMS’s John Gorman and Denny Sanders began working their network to put together the project, which would raise money for people in Ethiopia as well as in Cleveland.
The project came to be known as “C.A.R.E,” or Cleveland Artists Recording for Ethiopia. The project would include artists with Cleveland connections, including Benjamin Orr of the Cars and Michael Stanley and the Michael Stanley Band
When the Cleveland artists gathered to record a song to help others, the Pittsburgh star Donnie Iris apparently hopped on I-76 and joined them at the studio, apparently about one month after I saw him open for the Kinks.
The artists would eventually release the single “Eyes of the Children.” The song was a joint writing project, created by Michael Stanley with Mark Avsec, Kevin Raleigh, Bob Pelander, and Danny Powers. And the artists came together to record the song the week of April 15 to April 26, 1985, at Beachwood Studios in Beachwood, Ohio.
“Eyes of the Children” from The C.A.R.E Session was released on a long-player LP with different edited versions. In the song, Stanley was apparently inspired by the famous line U2’s Bono reluctantly sang in “Do They Know It’s Christmas.” Stanley punctuated the Cleveland song with “There but for the grace of God go you and I,” echoing Bono belting out, “Well, tonight thank God it’s them instead of you.”
I bought the record, which featured Donnie Iris as one of the artists on the cover. WMMS had the song on repeat play for a long time. It’s a good song along the lines of the other group charity efforts at the time.
Delays in printing and releasing the record after its release likely impacted its fundraising. There does not seem to be any clear account on the Internet for how much money the song made for children in Ethiopia or in Cleveland. But hopefully the fruits of the noble effort paid off.
And that is the story behind the song. You may read more of the history behind “Eyes of the Children” and more on the many participants from Denny and at this website. Below is the song, when Cleveland artists were helped by Pittsburgh native Donnie Iris to make music while giving a little.
Clem Curtis sang lead on “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You” with the Foundations but left the band before their next big hit.
Although the Foundations would have more than one hit song in the 1960s, one of their biggest hits came with a lead singer who left the band soon after that hit.
Clem Curtis was born in Trinidad on November 28, 1940 as Curtis Clements. His life took various turns, including working as an interior decorator and a professional boxer, but his biggest brush with fame came for a brief time with the band the Foundations, singing lead on the hit song, “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You.”
There are various versions of the early history of the Foundations in the UK, but we do know that Clem Curtis joined an R&B/ska band called The Ramong Sound around 1966 as a backup singer. The band unsuccessfully tried to get Rod Stewart to join their band and they went through a few lead singers, including Curtis.
Eventually, The Ramong Sound evolved into a band called the Foundations in 1967 with Curtis as their lead singer. The Foundations were somewhat unique for the time, with a large group of talented professional ethnically diverse musicians with ages from 18 to 38. The band is often cited as the “first multi-racial group to have a number 1 hit in the UK in the 1960s.”
Songwriters Tony Macaulay and John Macleod wrote the song “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You” and originally offered it to another band who turned it down. And so, Macaulay as a songwriter and producer, got the Foundations to record it. They band released the single on August 25, 1967. It became a surprise hit on BBC Radio 1. The song hit number one on the Canadian charts and number eleven on the Billboard Hot 100 in the U.S.
Curtis recorded other songs with the Foundations, including “Back on My Feet Again” and “Any Old Time (You’re Lonely and Sad).” But he soon became unhappy with the band, and in mid or late 1968, he left the band along with band member Mike Elliott.
Apparently, the split was not too bitter, as reportedly Curtis helped the band find a new lead singer, who became Colin Young. It would not be long before Young sang lead on the next Foundations hit song, “Build Me Up Buttercup,” which hit the charts in November 1968. Young and the Foundations would soon also re-record Curtis’s version of “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You.”
As for Curtis, he went on to record as a solo artist in the 1970s. One of his first recordings as a solo artist was another song by Tony Macaulay and John Macleod, “Marie Take a Chance.” The recording, however, never gained the popularity he had with “Baby, Now that I Found You.”
For awhile in the 1970s, Curtis made up his own group of Foundations called Clem Curtis & the Foundations. His Foundations competed in the Eurovision Song Finals in 1977. As a solo artist he had a modest disco hit in 1979 with a disco version of “Unchained Melody.”
Curtis continued to perform and record until he died from cancer on March 27, 2017 at the age of 76. Although he never quite achieved the heights he achieved with the Foundations on “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You,” his talent gave him a lifelong career making music.
Watching his performance with the Foundations on “Baby, Now That I’ve Found You,” though, it is not hard to see a young man in his late 20’s spreading great joy, perhaps thinking of the possibility of the future of the band.
Before the “Dancing in the Dark” video we all know, Bruce Springsteen made another failed attempt at the video with director of photography Daniel Pearl.
In the mid-1980s, I anticipated the first showing of Bruce Springsteen’s video for “Dancing in the Dark” on MTV to support his Born in the U.S.A. album. The rock icon and my favorite artist was entering the modern music video era.
While Springsteen years earlier had released a music video for “Atlantic City” as part of his previous album Nebraska, that video was a grainy black and white video of scenes around Atlantic City with no sign of the artist. The new video for “Dancing in the Dark” featured the legendary live performer in a concert setting, directed by Brian De Palma. While it was obviously staged, right down to his invitation to an audience member (a young pre-Friends Courteney Cox) to join him on stage, it was exciting to be able to repeatedly watch Springsteen perform on TV.
But the video for “Dancing in the Dark” almost looked quite different. There was initially a failed attempt to create a video of Springsteen . . . actually dancing in the dark.
Springsteen Walks Out of Video Shoot
As originally recounted in “The Golden Age of Music Video,” before director Brian De Palma became involved in helping Springsteen with the video that was ultimately released, Springsteen made another attempt at a video with director Jeff Stein and cinematographer Daniel Pearl.
Pearl was already on his way to his legendary career as director of photography, having already shot the landmark videos for Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” and The Police’s “Every Breath You Take.” But this encounter with Springsteen would not have such success.
Stein, the director, told Pearl that the concept for “Dancing in the Dark” was to have Springsteen dancing in a dark room. Pearl did not think it was much of a concept but began his work when Springsteen arrived. (Stein later explained that he also thought at the time that Sprinsteen should have been shot in a concert setting.)
Pearl immediately noticed Springsteen’s new look: “Big sideburns, he’s pumped, rippling muscles in his arms, good muscle definition, he’s wearing a wife beater sleeveless shirt, sharkskin pants, and black pointy-toe shoes and basically, that’s the New Jersey, sort-of early ‘60s thing going on, right? But very manly, right? So I lit him very hard – hard edge lights for his rippling muscles, and just really chiseled him with light.”
But Springsteen did not like the lighting and asked about using a silk lighting filter to soften the look. Pearl responded that such lighting was for a woman like Stevie Nicks and Springsteen was “manly.” Springsteen was not convinced, but the director asked Springsteen to follow Pearl’s way for a shoot and if he still didn’t like it they could shoot it again with the softer lighting.
And so they did a few takes, producing the following video, including Clarence Clemons at the end.
After a few takes, Springsteen went to the green room for a break, but then he disappeared and never returned for more shoots. He took off, apparently with Clemons, without telling anyone, possibly unhappy with how things were going.
Pearl blamed himself for Springsteen’s disappearance, and in later years director Stein, without saying much about the shoot, claimed that it was Pearl’s fault that Springsteen left.
The New “Dancing in the Dark” Video With Brian De Palma
Subsequently, Springsteen went to movie director Brian De Palma, who created the legendary concert video for “Dancing in the Dark.” In Springsteen’s autobiography, Born to Run, he makes little note of the earlier attempt to make a video for the song, only saying, “We had a false start a week or two previous with another director, so Brian’s come to make sure justice is done to waht will turn out to be my greatest hit.” (p. 325)
De Palma shot the video at the Saint Paul Civic Center in Saint Paul, Minnesota, on June 28 and 29, 1984 (the second date was the opening of the Born in the U.S.A. tour).
Bruce still danced, but this time he had an audience and performed before calling up the young actress Courteny Cox from the audience to dance with him in the video. Watching it today, you may see Springsteen using some of the same moves he tried out in the Stein-Pearl video. As Springsteen notes in his autobiography, “We would make many videos in the future — I’d even come to enjoy them — but none would ever elicit the same knee-slapping guffaws and righteous, rolling laughter from my kids as me doing my Jersey James Brown in “Dancing in the Dark.” (“Dad . .. you look ridiculous!” (p. 325.)
Others did not find the video ridiculous. The song went to number two on the charts, held out of the top spot by Prince’s “When Doves Cry.” The new music video went on to win the MTV Video Music Award for Best Stage Performance in September 1985 and was nominated for Best Overall Performance.
Hurt Feelings and a Reunion: “Human Touch” & “Better Days”
As for the cinematographer of the first “Dancing in the Dark” video attempt, Daniel Pearl, he refused to work with Springsteen through the 1980s after his encounter with the fleeing artist. Even while he often was doing cinematography for director Meiert Avis, Pearl declined the work when Avis was directing Springsteen.
But in the early 1990s, that changed. Pearl was working for Avis on a shoot for a band when they went to New Orleans where he expected to continue the shoot. While working at the new location with Avis, though, a surprise walked in. It was Springsteen.
Pearl assumed Springsteen was just visiting the director, and so he tried to ignore Springsteen. Pearl later explained: “I’m not going to talk to him [Springsteen]. So we’re shooting another take and as we finished the take, I get tapped on the shoulder by Springsteen, and he goes, ‘Daniel, the circle becomes complete.’ He says, ‘You were right on how you wanted to light me. I was wrong. This is my song. We’re shooting here now, and this is the only way we could get you to do it. I want to apologize because you were right.’”
The two men buried the hatchet and created the video for “Human Touch.”
Pearl later correctly noted, it “is a great video in a lot of ways.”
In the interview, Pearl does not discuss it, but soon after the filming of the “Human Touch” video, he again worked with director Amis to make the video for Springsteen’s song “Better Days.”
This video was recorded on a soundstage in Los Angeles, with the song appearing as part of a double A-side with “Human Touch.”
These songs appeared on two early 1990s albums Springsteen made without the E Street Band, Human Touchand Lucky Town. Because of the new band, some fans disparage these two albums, which were released at the same time. But I love these albums and listen to them often.
One of the things I like about these Springsteen videos created by Pearl and Amis is that like much of the two albums, they capture a confident and happy version of Springsteen, with a genuine smile coming through that did not necessarily appear in some of his more “serious” videos from the previous decade.
Of course Springsteen smiles in the two “Dancing in the Dark” videos, and there are wry smiles at the end of the videos for “Glory Days” and “I’m On Fire.” But the smiles appearing in the early 1990s videos for “Human Touch” and in particular “Better Days” capture a more mature man, a new husband and father, confident, and maybe a little less nervous about being filmed for a music video.
And maybe there was also a little joy about making amends with a cinematographer he once walked out on.
And that is how a failed video for “Dancing in the Dark” led to a reunion and the videos for “Human Touch” and “Better Days.”
In “What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome,” author Jonathan Bernstein recounts the life, music, and struggles of singer-songwriter Justin Townes Earle who died in 2020 at the age of 38.
In What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome, Jonathan Bernstein traces the life of Justin Townes Earle. The book offers no easy answers for how Earle created great music or how he came to die alone in Nashville at age 38 on August 20, 2020 through an accidental overdose from cocaine laced with fentany. But Bernstein importantly leaves us with a portrait of a troubled man that provides further insight into his musical legacy.
While Bernstein makes no attempts to tie together all of the strands of Earle’s life and music, he provides the reader with a detailed description of Earle’s ups and downs and his music. While he does not delve deep into the recording or writing process, his interviews with others helps bring some insight into the influences and life experiences that helped form the too-short record of a musical life.
The book traces Justin Townes Earle‘s life from childhood through his early musical associations through his solo career and through his struggles with addiction.
Three Themes Running Through the Book
Fathers and Sons. The themes running through the book include Earle’s troubled relationship with his father, musical legend Steve Earle, as well as the son’s devotion to his mother Carol Ann Hunter Earle. Bernstein tries to present an objective perspective of the father-son dynamic, noting it was more complicated than the son often described, with the father — who declined to be interviewed for the book — attempting to play a larger role in the son’s life after the father became sober. But the parental relationships, and Justin’s perception of them, played a large role in his music (which include albums entitled “Single Mothers” and “Absent Fathers”) and in his life choices. Bernstein recounts how near the end of Earle’s life, he sometimes broke down while performing songs like “Mama’s Eyes,” which begins “I am my father’s son. . . .”
Addiction. Another theme running through the book is Justin Townes Earle’s struggles with addiction to alcohol and drugs. Bernstein does a good job of recognizing the story in the context of music history, recognizing “the Myth” believed by many that great music only comes out of addiction and trauma. Although I knew of Earle’s addictions, the book surprised me with the reporting of the persistence of them, so much that the repetition of the problems make you wish you could reach out to Earle. I was surprised to learn that his accidental death was not the result of a short relapse but a long continuing spiral, perhaps a little aided by the isolation during those early days of the Covid pandemic. The addictions often helped make him difficult toward others, such as an eventual break with one-time friend Jason Isbell. But at the same time, as recounted by Steve Earle’s ex-wife Allison Moorer, he was loved and lovable.
The Artist. The third major theme in the book is his ability to make wonderful music through it all, from before he started releasing records, through his debut EP Yuma in 2007 through the eighth and final album released in his lifetime, The Saint of Lost Causes, released in May 2019. Bernstein explains how his music career had its own ups and downs, with the reception of some albums being a disappointment. Near the end of his life, in addition to all his other challenges, he faced what felt like declining relevancy. He found his albums released after 2012 were surpassed in popularity by newer “Americana” artists building upon some of the foundations Earle helped create with his earlier albums.
No Clear Answers
Bernstein recognizes that a person is made up of more than the parts of their lives, and he makes no attempt to tie everything together in a nice bow at the end. But the portrait allows the reader to see the themes and connections, such as the fact that despite the complicated father-son dynamic, Justin Townes Earle’s first recording, the outstanding “Time You Waste,” was released as an extra track on his father’s 2003 album, Just An American Boy.
One may still wonder about Earle’s life and wonder why he was so troubled. It is normal to want more answers. A biographer can never really know everything about a subject. How can one truly know another’s heart and their thoughts? And unless someone is filmed 24/7 since the day they were born, we only know what they and others choose to tell us.
For example, near the end of the book, Bernstein recounts Earle telling an audience about problems in his childhood, includng that he was “abused.” We know that Earle often exagerated his life story, but up to that point, we had not heard that word in the book. Was Earle making it up or just referring to his issues about being abandoned by his father? Or was he referring to something that we might not know about? We can only wonder based on what we know about Earle.
Anyone interested in the music of Justin Townes Earle will be interested in this authorized biography and learn a lot about the singer-songwriter. But, like me, some readers may not find the book an extremely enjoyable read, learning that one of their favorite artists faced so many demons and made so many bad choices.
And it is even sadder to think about all we lost with Earle’s future. Bernstein recounts some of the ideas Earle was considering around the time of his death, such as producing a documentary about John Prine and perhaps finally doing an album with his father.
Then again, I think over time, getting through the sadness presented in the book will make me appreciate Earle’s music that much more. He created such light while facing such darkness in his own life.
What Do You Do When You’re Lonesome: The Authorized Biography of Justin Townes Earle is available at your local bookstore and at Amazon. Note: I “read” this book by listening to the Audible version read by John Pirhalla, who does a great job giving voice to the story.
