LUCK AND KARMA: MAJOR PARTS OF A SUCCESSFUL MUSIC CAREER
This is a more personal story than most, because my work at the early stages of k.d. lang’s career seems, in some way, prophetic. The moment I saw her live, as an almost totally unknown artist, I was convinced that she would become a major star. I wrote to Larry Wanagas, her manager: “I have this crazy idea that this whole thing with k.d. is actually going to work…”
Successful people who work in music — the people who make music, and the people who make music happen —all sense what it takes to be a prominent artist.
In no particular order: how about great songs, a distinctive voice, a memorable stage presence, the motivation to work insanely hard, and a strong team behind you? Oh, and focus and ambition as well.
But there’s also a case to be made for the importance of several other factors: luck, karma, coincidence, and being in the right place at the right time.
And luck was a major factor in k.d. lang’s early career.
K.D. LANG, THE EARLY DAYS (PART 1)
Larry Wanagas owned a small recording studio in Edmonton, Alberta, in the early ‘80s, handling voiceovers, commercials for local businesses, and sessions for a few independent musicians. When a local country band booked the studio to audition for a singer, a 18-year-old woman from the small town of Consort named Kathryn Dawn Lang applied.
Wanagas, impressed by her voice, took her for a coffee after the session — yes, she got the job and sang one gig with the band before it broke up. Shortly afterwards, the studio’s independent label put out a single (“Friday Night Promenade”) and a few months later a full album, A Truly Western Experience. And he became her manager.
Meanwhile, Peter North, the music writer on the Edmonton Journal and a part-time booking agent, wrote to me suggesting I bring the artist to Toronto. In a time when YouTube and e-mails didn’t exist I refused point blank; I hadn’t heard the records and I hadn’t seen her in performance.
So, join me backstage at the Edmonton Folk Music Festival. It’s August 10, 1984, the opening night of what has become one of the best music festivals in North America. It’s a strong lineup, including Alberta country star Dick Damron, “Midnight at the Oasis” singer Maria Muldaur, singer and songwriter Sylvia Tyson and New Orleans pianist Mac Rebennack, better known as Dr. John.
I’m not alone. Several influential music business people, including Bernie Finkelstein (then the powerhouse behind True North Records and still Bruce Cockburn’s manager) and writers Peter North and Roddy Campbell are also backstage — specifically to check out k.d.
Working hard for nearly a year to establish herself in Edmonton, she’s earned her festival debut, a 30-minute slot on the opening night concert with her band, The Reclines. As she launched her set of high-energy country rockabilly — resplendent in billowing skirt, cut-off cowboy boots, cropped hair and cat’s-eye glasses — the audience is almost instantly on her side.
Behind the scenes, however, there’s a crisis. The plane carrying the next artists on the bill, American bluegrass icons Peter Rowan and Mark O’Connor, has arrived late — and, having checked into their hotel, the pair have lost their way to the festival site. Urgent signals tell k.d. to keep going, keep playing…
And so she did, ending what turned into an hour-long set with an old Lavern Baker song called “I’m Saved,” during which she strapped on a bass drum and marched around the stage banging it with abandon.
After that showstopper she segued into a stunning finale —an a capella version of “Amazing Grace.” It earned an instant standing ovation from every one of the 10,000 people there…
Back in Toronto, I collared Derek Andrews, who booked a blues club called Albert’s Hall, above a university drinking joint called the Brunswick House.
As I explained that I wanted to book a week for an unknown singer from Alberta — and a country singer at that — he broke in: “k.d. lang?”
How did he know, I asked. “Oh, Sylvia Tyson told me that she and everyone else on the bill got blown off stage in Edmonton last weekend by this woman nobody had heard of.”
Booking a “country” artist in a blues bar is risky, but the deal was made: k.d. and her band would make their Toronto debut: a week-long engagement, starting October 29, just three months after her Edmonton festival triumph.
Now it was up to Derek, her manager Larry Wanagas, and I to redeem some heavy favours from media to make sure than this artist — totally unknown in Toronto — would have an audience. We all leaned hard on local newspapers and CBC Radio, explaining that k.d. had a strong new record, A Truly Western Experience, which we handed out like candy
For my part, I stressed her rambunctious performance style and the eccentric mixture of country, rockabilly and rock and roll she brought to her audiences. On purpose, I never mentioned her voice — let the media people discover that, I thought, when they see her.
What brought out the crowd, however, was the continual play of A Truly Western Experience on Morningside, a CBC radio show hosted by Peter Gzowski with a devoted following across the country. He loved the record and played it frequently.
Visiting CBC headquarters with k.d. that week we accidentally met Gzowski in a corridor. I made the introductions, Kathy limply shook his hand, and wandered off. k.d., whatever her extrovert nature on stage, had few social skills at this point; a friend muttered that she couldn’t schmooze her way out of a wet Kleenex.
The shows were sold out; and the following April she returned to Albert’s Hall— this time to a barrage of press, radio and TV appearances. Derek would pay her $2,500 for the week versus all the door receipts; the week would end the band’s cross-Canada tour.
Three weeks before, while the band was in Winnipeg, I had received a call from Liam Lacey, then the rock writer for The Globe and Mail. His editors had booked a Saturday entertainment section front page story, for which he’d go on the road with a band. At the last minute, he’d been blown out by Tom Cochrane’s management. Did I know anyone on tour he could travel with for a week?
k.d. and Wanagas agreed, and Lacey became a fly on the wall as the band trundled out of Winnipeg and through northern Ontario. The result was a huge article: two full pages in Canada’s national newspaper. The headline named just one of the small towns where k.d. played as Lacey and the band, crammed into the Reclines’ trusty van, played their way to Toronto. The headline: “If This is Tuesday, It Must Be Kenora.”
That article alone didn’t explain the fact that when the band arrived in Toronto three days after the piece was published there was a Tuesday night lineup halfway around the block — what the piece did was alert the rest of the Toronto media that there was a special new artist in town. The newspaper and radio reviews were spectacular, and the lineups, night after night, grew even longer.
Why Toronto Can’t Get Enough of k.d. lang — Greg Quill, Toronto Star
K.D. Scores a K.O. — Wilder Penfield, Toronto Sun
k.d. Show is Goofy, Gutsy and Just Great — Zsuzsi Gartner, Globe & Mail
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To be continued next week: the second part of k.d. lang’s early story.
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CANADA IN 1957. WHAT AN EXCITING PLACE TO MEET YOUR HEROES
The tallest building in Toronto in April 1957 is the Bank of Commerce building. At 32 storeys, it is also the tallest building in the British Commonwealth. The second tallest building is the Royal York Hotel. Both buildings still stand, dwarfed by 50-, 60- 70-, and 80-storey office and apartment buildings.
Wandering down the city’s main drag on my very first afternoon in Canada, I see a sign outside a bar:
Tonight and all this week
EARL HINES & HIS ALL STARS
Amazed, I go in and ask the bartender if this was, indeed, the real Earl Hines — the innovative pianist with Louis Armstrong’s Hot Seven back in 1927, and the leader of a pioneering big band in the ’40s. He nodded as he polished the bar. Dreading his answer, I ask: “How much is it to get in?”
“It’s free,” he responds. “But you have to have at least two drinks.” I tell myself that I can do that, and think that this city must be the promised land for a jazz fan.
That evening, Hines, wearing a spectacular hairpiece, is arguing with the club owner. “Look, I had it done three months back,” he tells the pianist. “It’s in tune already. Don’t complain!”
The band’s members are familiar to me from my collection of 78 rpm records— Darnell Howard on clarinet, Jimmy Archey on trombone, John Lindsay on bass and Earl Watkins on drums — and a boyhood hero of mine, Muggsy Spanier, on trumpet.
I don’t know that this tired, sad-faced, dewlapped man whose nickname fitted him perfectly, is a recovering alcoholic.
On the break, I offer to buy him a beer. He growls at me: “Just because I play jazz doesn’t mean I drink. Leave me alone.”
Sometimes, meeting your heroes is difficult.
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FLOHIL’S RULES FOR PERFORMERS #4
Never, ever, wear sandals and socks on stage, however sunny the day or however hot the venue. And wearing Crocs on stage is, basically, a firing offence.
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SONG LYRIC OF THE WEEK
“If the loneliness don’t kill you, the good times surely will.” — Whitehorse
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That’s it for issue #5 of Stories from the Edge of Music. Next week: more k.d. lang and a bunch of other stuff. Thanks for being here. And if you’re enjoying these missives, please consider upgrading to PAID status — can you afford a monthly bill of $6.00?
Another great story from start to finish, Richard! I remember you sharing parts of your kd lang story with me years ago. It’s great to get all the details. Looking forward to more!
I was a second-year student at U of T in 1984. It truly was a drumbeats-getting-louder-and-LOUDER thing with the media, espcially the CBC. "k d lang is coming! k d just got to Thunder Bay!" I wandered over to the club one evening to check it out. SRO (natch) = SOL for me. I was lucky enough to see lang not long after. It was fun to turn people on this, because k d was so undeniably great.