Word: promo
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...time you started to part your hair in the middle and wear a hooded sweatshirt under your junior high basketball jacket, you had worn through one copy of Hot Rocks and had the 1972 American tour promo poster on your bedroom door. You got the wimpy kid to call you Mick, and you learned to pout like Charlie Watts as you tapped out the beat to "Jumping Jack Flash" on your plastic pencil case. This was the only music you needed...
Bunky Sheppard works for 20th Century-Fox Records in Los Angeles now. He is a vice president, a successful promo man. Of the six Sheppards, James Allen is dead, and another, Eskridge, has disappeared. Perk Perkins still sings occasionally. He works nights at a Chicago plating company, picks up extra money as a freelance deejay at parties. He likes to reminisce about the days when 5,000 kids in a Michigan City armory charged the stage when they heard Island of Love. Sometimes he plays the Sheppards album. His wife, his children, or his grandchildren will stop and listen...
...that Frank Zappa with the shaggy mane and the gleaming sax? Nope, it's Paul McCartney, as he appears in a video-taped film in which he plays, seemingly all at once, six different instruments in ten musical guises. The show is a promo for McCartney II, a new album that features guess who on every instrumental track. The old Beatles will never reunite, says McCartney: "The others don't seem keen enough." Ah, but why reassemble the fabulous four when one can be cloned into...
McGraw's silver screen appeal doesn't thrill the VISTA people, who wish she and reporters would stick to the issue--their promo campaign. Their prayers are answered when the van pulls off the highway in the South End and parks in front of a VISTA-run refuge for battered women. Tabankin is here to find out how well the VISTA program is working. McGraw is here to learn. As reporters look on, she speaks with the organizer of the home for a few minutes, and the first time she raises her voice above a whisper...
THERE WAS SOMETHING FUNNY about this one from the start. It began innocently enough; somebody arranged an interview, and somebody else found the promo record. If I had to put my finger on it, it was the record that first gave the show away. Some ingenious record company executive had pasted a sticker to the cellophane wrapping, a sticker graced by Stanley Clarke's evaluation of Diana Hubbard's music. There is only one problem. In his glowing tribute, Clarke failed to note that he too played on this album...